Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The rain fell from the sky like a waterfall, unending and unyielding. It filled the air with itself, making it difficult to breath and impossible to hear. Lanterns scattered about the towns’ streets, homes and businesses alike shuddered and flickered. Some had gone out, fully saturated while others torn off the walls completely by the monsoon this place was punished with.

The town he had been summoned to was littered with seedy pubs and brothels, all of which are an ideal place to hide or get caught, but the woman who summoned him said she can make it all worth his wile. The letter was written in too elegant a script and even the paper itself was too rich for him to completely dismiss her claims of substantial reward.

The wax seal was exceptionally fine though he couldn’t place the crest. It was some sort of double star that overlapped into a geometric style with an arch above it. The arch had five thin lines pointing outward from along the length of the curve. It was a plain crest he thought but the arc above it was strange for such a simple array.

He was glad to crack it when opening the letter.

The shape lingered in his mind, blocking out the thundering rain fall and for or a moment he felt a much different type of cold. Shaking it from his mind, he continued his search for this pub she had chosen as the setting for their assignation.

It was an odd thing for a highwayman to do. He never worked for or with anyone else and rarely was any of his “work” planned ahead. Dismas wandered the roads and highways in search of his prey. Indoor theft requires more stealth than he believes he has. His gun staved off anyone who thought to chase him into the wild after he’d finessed them on the open road. He never had to run too great a distance, knowing how to scout the lay of the land was also an invaluable skill.

The letter informed him that once in the slums he wouldn’t be able to miss his destination and true to her word, as he walked a moment or two into this far less reputable part of town, he heard a commotion over the rain. He peaked around the corner of the alley he had paused in and one building over from his vantage point he saw the slanted light from the pubs’ windows undulating in pools of mud thrashed by the rain. The doors burst open as two comrades, arms over shoulders, swayed and sang at the top of their lungs into the street. The door quickly shut behind them, but they took no notice and meandered further into the night unfazed by the rain. Dismas watched as they disappeared down a small street, listening to their drunken tune grow fainter.

Luckily random debris between these two building created an overhead blockage to the downpour, and he was able to collect himself. Dismas pulled his pipe from his breast pocket and inspected its contents.
Moist.

Dismas sighed though he agreed it would be best to keep sharp and alert rather than calm from herb. Other exiting patrons opened the doors and Dismas took his chance to slip in undetected and did so gracefully, barely turning a head. The door closed and as if no longer underwater Dismas felt like he was hearing for the first time with the deluge now muted by the building. The hum and roar of its occupants steadily pushed the rain even further away.

Uncharacteristically Dismas pulled the red scarf down from his face and took a deep breath. He paused, shocked by such an amateur mistake; walk into a bar as a wanted criminal and show them all your face. Slowly he put his head down though not low enough to appear guilty of something and walked to the bar. When the barkeep turned, Dismas nodded his chin upward at him. The surly man surveyed him a moment and walked over. He spoke before Dismas could.

“You Dismas?” he asked nonchalantly. Dismas’ hand moved to his pistol though he was not as unseen as he thought.

“Easy mate. There’s a lady upstairs, on the gallery, says she’s waitin on ya.”

“Oh…thanks”

“Mind that pistol boy, got enough holes in these walls” he added as Dismas walked away. He held up two fingers behind him at the barkeep in acknowledgment.

Once at the top of the steps the sight of the only two figures upstairs were bizarre to say the least. The larger of the two present bodies he had to take in first. An entire knight, helmet adorned, chain mail and plated arm/leg guards. The tunic over his armor made it all stranger. It was a tattered royal blue with a yellow cross stretched over a broad chest, holding his sword, palms over hilt vertically in front of him.

“Ah Dismas!” The second of the two figures spoke first. The woman gently rose from her seat next to the standing knight and did so with such a grace that Dismas swore some force lifted her. She was beautiful, large azure colored almond shaped eyes flanked a strong nose. Her long neck held up a delicate jaw and soft chin. Thick golden hair curled into a style he couldn’t see as a small but elaborate hat covered the rest of her head. Other than that, a rich black cloak of velvet covered her from neck down.

“Please” smiling she motioned a deep ruby silk gloved hand to the seat across from her. Dismas was certain she was a woman with money if not a rank. He walked over deliberately, eyeing the knight as the helmet slowly turned as it followed him. It was unnerving to Dismas that this person, could stand still enough to appear inanimate.

He sat and turned his gaze to the woman gliding down into her seat without a sound.

“Please allow me to introduce myself properly since I’m afraid arranging all this required quite a bit of discretion” she said giggling slightly at the end. Her voice was soft but with a husky undertone of sensuality.
“I am Lady Viara Allard Beauffant but please call me Viara. I have few circumstances left that warrant such formalities” her laugh was light but somehow tired.

“Dismas” he said holding up a hand.

“This is Reynauld” Viara motioned to her left at the towering knight.

The helmet turned again robotically, tilting toward Dismas and then back. Though he couldn’t see his eyes beyond the horizontal slit in his helm, he couldn’t help but feel the knights gaze on him. He shivered and looked away.

“Reynauld is under my employ for the same position I’m offering you. You two would be working together as a matter of fact!” she said chipper.

“Riiiiight” Dismas said looking from Reynauld and back to Viara. She carried on as if asked.

“You see Dismas I’ve recently become the heiress to a rather large estate after the passing of a distant familial relation. This member of the family you could certainly call a black sheep and for various...unsavory reasons, the hamlet and surrounding estate fell into disarray. More so the ruins and almost all of the bordering grounds of the estate have become...overgrown and....occupied.”

“Ah. So, you gotta clean house and need some hired help. Why not ask a law man or another one of him” Dismas said leaning forward on an elbow and gesturing toward the knight. The knight remained stationary.

“I require discretion not just sheer manpower. These are not simple bandits squatting about. More importantly however is the aforementioned need for discretion so I’d rather discuss this at the estate. That way what I can share with you can be immediately corroborated with the surroundings. I would never ask anyone to take only my word for what is actually happening” she said delicately.

“So, you want me to head over to some backwater hamlet to help an heiress clean up her bandit infested estate? That the long short of it lady?”

“To put it plainly yes. I have transportation waiting for us.” she said with a smile. Dismas was confused by the casual air of it all and her confidence that he'd be joining her.

“Aah. Right right, travel with a strange woman and some...crusader? No thanks.”

Before he could stand up, she placed a large plump sack on the table, its drawstring was loose and thick gleaming gold could be seen within. It began to spread flat under the weight of itself, exposing more coin as it opened. Dismas was impressed, it was a lot of gold.

“There’s more with me and more to be gathered from the estate. You would get a considerable share of whatever you find of course but the majority of it would go to the restoration of the hamlet and helping it’s people.” Her eyes were hard.
It was tempting and the promise of having enough to travel far away after the fact and get totally lost sweetened the pot, but it was off. He took a moment to observed her and Dismas could she was fraying but was certain this meeting couldn’t possibly the only reason for the stress that masks her suave aspect.

“Tempting as it is, I’ve no intention on traveling these old roads in the dead of night to the piss end of this place with some noble. I thought you needed maybe a necklace stolen or a statue or whatever you lot cherish. Promises of boon and this sack of coin anyone can jibber jabber on about and produce up front. I’m not waltzing into the darkness with you.” Dismas got up to leave.

“Dismas wait...please” she sounded desperate saying it and it and it gave him pause.

“I am sure you noticed the bounty hunter by the door when you came in. He is also under my employ.” she was less playful now. Dismas was grateful for the dim candle light, practically crimson from embarassment having slipped in such a way to not check for anyone suspicious, bounty hunters seldom look like anything but. He grinned and huffed as he sat back in the chair across from Viara; time for the confidence game

“I have my ears to those things; I don’t have a bounty on my head in these parts.” he lied.

“Oh, but you do, and I put it there. That's how and why he found you. I truly am sorry to have to resort to such measures Dismas, but I hope that in and of itself helps you understand my urgency in all this.” She shocked and soothed him all at once, believing she was genuinely sorry and resented her for it.

“So, I don’t help and you feed me to the bounty hunter?” Though he made sure to appear indifferent, inside Dismas was shaken. This wasn’t what he expected, not by a long shot. He fished his pipe out from his coat to keep with the charade of apathy.

Of course, it’s still wet. He sighed and returned it to its place.

“Oh of course! I suppose I should have put the honey out before the salt” the heiress chuckled. She reached into a delicate silk purse in her lap and removed a small ornate arabesque pouch that she slid gently across the table. He looked to the pouch and then back to her.

“For you, in good faith” she said smiling.

He took the pouch and even before pulling the cords apart the earthy bittersweet smell stung his nostrils. He couldn’t help but grin at the pile of fluffy delicate buds, beautiful green and white nestled within the cerulean pouch. Dismas pulled the small drawstrings closed and looked up at her.

“This is from far away” Dismas said smirking as he put the pouch into his dryer pants pocket, this he did not want to get wet.

“Oh, VERY far” she said matter of fact. The acquisition of such things requires a great deal of who you know and even more so how much money you have, and Dismas certainly believed now this woman has both.

“How did you get this?” he couldn’t help but ask. The out of place knight scoffed and Dismas grimaced obviously at him.

“Well your very welcome Dismas” she said sarcastically hurt.

“You have my thanks for the herb uh...Viara was it? But I don’t like the sound of any of this to be honest so I think I’ll take my chances with the bounty hunter downstairs. Bullets tend to render sizes equal and I don't mind shootin folk in general” he said trying to ignore the entire suit of armor that would do fine against bullets.

Dismas stood and turned to leave but bumped immediately into the muscular chest of the bounty hunter he strolled right passed earlier. This helmed man loomed over him, eyes hidden behind a mask and the rest of his face behind a veil. He was an entire head taller than Dismas with a wide brolic physique. Dismas swallowed hard, he couldn't help but notice the heat radiating off the towering man. He looked from the mans’ face to his pectorals he just planted his face on and quickly back up to the mask, heat rushing up to his face. The silent moment lasted long enough to create a tension and the bounty hunter tilted his head to the side still looking down at the thief, sending shivers down his spine.

This was the second man, within the same hour whose eyes Dismas could not see but feel on him, both piercing through and unto him. In all his years, Dismas has never felt this trapped and chuckled to himself thinking it was bound to be one snare or another but this? Between a crusader and a bounty hunter? What had this evening become he thought.

The bounty hunter grabbed Dismas hard by the shoulders, spun him around and thrusted him down into his seat.

Reynauld took one precise step forward, pausing in form, gripping the hilt of his blade. Dismas looked at the knight and was cartain he wasn’t looking at him this time.

“Musar” Viara said the name gently.

The bounty hunters grip loosened on Dismas’ shoulders and the two took a step backward, strangely in unison. As the knight resumed his position, the bounty hunter Musar leaned on the creaking railing of the steps nearby.

“Dismas....would you believe me if I told you, you would be serving a greater purpose?” Viara leaned in and was almost whispering.

“Is that how you got this one?” Dismas jerked a thumb toward Reynauld whispering in mock.

“I don’t mean serving god. I mean to help the people my family has neglected. I seek redemption for my name. For this I need help...your help.” Viara delicately placed her hand on Dismas. He fully understood how absurd she sounded but couldn’t help believing that she needed him, as bizarre as it was. They locked eyes and Dismas would swear she was holding her breath; whatever this was, every fiber of her being seemed bent on it. He weighed the scenario in search of balance if not escape and exhaled deeply

“Well it’s either assist in your family adventure or number two here takes my head” he said jerking another thumb at the second man that hasn’t stopped watching him since he sat.

“Your right” Viara whispered.

She stood up holding out a hand to the highwayman and they shook their agreement official. Though still exhausted he could see relief in her, something in her finally relaxed.

“Thank you Dismas. I hope you can see I seek redemption in all this. You can understand that can’t you?” Viara said as she lifted a wide hood over her hat and head. She walked away not waiting for a response and Reynauld followed. He knew it wasn’t a question and didn’t like that it sounded like an accusation.

Viara began down the steps first and both Musar and Reynauld paused for Dismas to follow her next. He didn’t turn to see which of them went down after him but smirked to himself picturing the moment in his mind.

He exited the pub and couldn’t believe he was in the same place. The town looked brand new with the storm passed and the sky was perfectly clear. Dismas could see every star and the wind was like ice against his skin as if directly from some artic slope. The difference was stark, and he didn’t notice he had paused to stare until either Reynauld or Musar pushed him from behind. He grumbled as he adjusted his coat and before he could turn to face whoever shoved him, the imposing thing he had been thrust toward rooted him to the spot.

It was an ornate carriage.
Just like that carriage.
Dismas heard the gunshot echo in his mind and his hand twitched.
He shook his head and blinked hard.
A second gunshot.
Smoke burned his nostrils and his breath quickened, turning to frost in his lungs.
Another gunshot and broken glass. His hand twitched again, his heart pumping in his ears, eyes shut tight against the memory

“Dismas?” He heard Viara ask as if from afar and his eyes focused. She was holding the carriage door open half stepped inside it, her elegant visage next to the doors window. His breathing steadied and he pulled his coat closer to him, the wind chilling the sweat on his neck and forehead.

“Sorry” Dismas pushed the vision from his mind and locked it away, not sure why or how such a part of him would surface now. Viara stepped further into the depths of the carriage and he stepped forward, taking slow intentional breaths.

It was large, with nothing exceptional about it, drawn by two black steeds that stood as awkwardly still as Reynauld did. Its driver was an incredibly old man that Dismas only saw momentarily which was enough to unnerve him. The drivers’ eyes were sunken and mad in the icy moonlight and he held a hand up to his mouth, hiding mostly yellowed teeth and chapped skin.

Was he smiling?

“In thief” a muffled voice growled from behind a visor and shoved him again. The highwayman sucked his teeth at Reynauld as he stumbled into the carriage.

Dismas bounced on the plush velvety upholstery of the carriage and grinned to himself. He was glad to see Viara had been staring out the window and didn’t notice his jovial moment but mortified the knight was already sat beside her. He blushed, glad for the shadowy interior of the carriage, surprised at how quietly the knight was able to move in all that metal and leather.

So far Dismas had only gotten two words from him, has yet to see his face and already can’t stand him. The carriage started abruptly and startled them all. Viara sighed, leaned back and closed her eyes, making Dismas feel as tired as she looked. With no desire to interact with Reynauld at all, he fished his pipe and pouch of herb Viara gave him from his pockets.

“You will not indulge in here” the crusader said slowly, carefully pronouncing each word. Reynauld's arms remained crossed at his chest as Dismas narrowed his eyes at the slit in the helmet. He packed his belongings away not afraid of injury but because he knew the knight would absolutely throw it all out the window. He sighed and closed his eyes, suddenly more exhausted than he thought and not even the shaking carriage stopped sleep from taking him.

Chapter Text

Gunshots.

Dismas was trapped again in his mind and tried to look away from the carriage in the snow, from the crescent shaped crack of the window, from that night that began to rush into view.

Blood flowed crimson from the door and he wasn't sure if he was hearing himself scream or if it was the voice of another.

His ears were back in the carriage and he could hear Viara inaudibly shouting as the carriage wildly threw them about inside. The horses were making unnatural sounds, screaming like a chorus of small children terrified. No being able to see the harsh inhale and exhale of their massive lungs made it sound as if the carriage itself were gasping for air. The feral screams and galloping were as loud as the very real gunshots.

He wasn't entirely free from the nightmare and couldn't calibrate reality until a large hand forcefully gripped him by the face . He immediately came to and opened his eyes.

“DISMAS!!” The large helmet was shouting at him surprisingly louder than the commotion that surrounded them.

Dismas couldn’t catch his breath as the carriage raced serpentine down the road, desperately trying to hold anything to keep balance.

“Draw your pistol man they are upon us!” Reynauld shouted, his voice accompanied by the galloping of other horses.

“Here it’s loaded!!” Viara yelled over the roar, thrusting a rifle into Dismas' hands. She brought her own rifle back up to her shoulder and shot through the shattered window at an opponent he couldn't see. Dismas cringed at the of cry the horse she must have shot. She ducked and began to reload without looking up from her weapon.

“DISMAS SHOOT THAT FUCKING RIFLE!!”

He jumped, genuinely startled and adjusted the rifle to position in his arms. Dismas half stood, meaning to sit on the other side of the carriage by the window Reynauld was currently occupying. Rifle raised and bumping into a ducking crusader, they both jostled about as the carriage continued to fly down the road trying to shake off its attackers.

Dismas hated the physics they fought against trying to get to the other side of the carriage. The barrel knocked into Reynaulds helmet several times as they both tried to get out of the others way and switch places.

“MOVE!” Dismas shouted scraping the rifle across the roof falling backward.

Reynauld in one swift motion grabbed the rifle barrel with one hand, scooped Dismas up from his waist with the other and switched their places in an instant. He jerked his armored elbow at the window closest to Dismas and shattered it. The last of the carriage's windows was gone.

“SHOOT!!”

Dismas looked out the window as a hooded man galloped toward them holding some type of short double-barreled gun. The highwayman popped his head out to provoke and the bandit ducked down, beckoning his horse to gain speed, taking the bait. Dismas didn’t wait for him to get closer and took aim, the rifle easily able to close some distance.

The carriage lurched upward abruptly having run something over.

The wheels knocked against the carriage and. Dismas’ shot went into the sky. The wobbling shook them about while Viara desperately trying to reload her gun

“STEADY THE HORSES YOU MAD OLD FOOL!! STEADY GODS DAMN YOU!! Viara shrieked up at the ceiling.

The ancient driver wailed and Dismas hoped he at least still held the reins. He disgarded the rifle and pulled his pistol from his coat but before he could try and see where his enemy was, a gun blast splintered the top half of the carriage door. He flinched at the chattel blowing passed him and Reynauld knelt down over Viara after another shot penetrated the carriage. Dismas steadied himself, strangely invigorated by the chaos, planted his hands on the ceiling and kicked the rest of the door clean off its hinges. He gripped the door frame and stood half outside the carriage lifting his pistol arm in the same motion. The rider was more than close enough.

He shot into the mans’ face and he fell backward on his horse.

“Damn, missed his eyes” the thief chuckled.

For the briefest of moments Dismas remained half hanging out of the carriage and took in the gale force winds rushing around him. Then from behind, over deafening wind in his ears, he could hear the antique coachman howling louder into the night. He glanced at him as he started to hoist himself back into the carriage and saw his arms flailing about.

He didn’t have the reins…and it didn’t matter.

Before he could do anything but reenter the carriage, an explosion rang out and cracked the air. The deafening shatter of most of the roof was all they could register, the force jerking the carriage to the right as the horses pulled left. The axel broke to pieces releasing the terrified steeds, sending the carriage body careening off the road beyond the tree line. At their velocity they steadily soared several feet into the forest before side swiping a tree, hurling it further into the air and finally slammed down on its side. Its halt was abrupt, and the scene was immediately silent.

The pause was surprisingly brief before the damaged carriage began to splinter as an armored leg kicked from within. Reynauld made short work of the semi shattered roof and created a larger opening. He crouched out of the wreckage first helping the lady and then Dismas. Viara shooed the knight away as he tried to assist her.

“I’m fine I’m fine” she said breathlessly.

Her skirt and petticoat were torn here and there, her hat nowhere to be seen, hair was falling around her face in large graceful loops and curves. Dismas felt a different twinge in his neck observing her and squinted from both pain and suspicion. He rolled his left arm over and over in a circular motion trying to desensitize himself to the soreness. Reynauld moved to where Dismas was kneeling swiftly, almost taking his arm into his hands. He paused, hands near the arm Dismas nursed.

“Is it broken?” He asked.

“N-no?” Dismas thought he understood concern in his voice

“Good let’s go” the knight spoke flatly and quickly hoisted Dismas to on his feet..

“Ow! Just pulled from wreckage thank you!”

“You’re welcome.”

Dismas scowled and jerked his arm away, immediately regretting the spiteful motion with his shoulder and neck so tender.

“We need to make haste. They shouldn’t be far behind and I’m certain they mean to come for us” Reynauld said as he crouched half inside the wreck. He pulled out a small pack and his long sword triggering Dismas to feel inside his coat for his own belongings.
Gun. Dagger. Pipe.
Dismas drew his gun and began to reload it.

“Can you do that walking?” The knight stepped squarely before Dismas who was quite adept at reloading a pistol and had finished barely a minute after Reynauld asked.

“I’m done” he said, taking a confident step toward the towering crusader. They were beyond personal space boundaries and it wasn’t until then that Dismas noticed how tall and wide he actually was and had to look up at the helmet to glare at it.

“Hurry up thief. Your kinfolk search for us” he spoke to him behind his visor.

Dismas couldn’t tell which he despised more; the comment itself or that he wasn’t facing him anymore saying it. He was too sore to argue and Reynauld was right, the brigands that ran them off the road couldn’t be far behind. Even with three of their number taken down they may still be outnumbered.

“So, what the hell hit us?” Dismas asked, holstering his pistol.

“My guess a cannon. I’m not sure what else could make such a sound and the sulfur is still on the wind.” Dismas assumed Reynauld was sniffing the air but his helmet kept him from seeing any human characteristics.

“That means some had to have been already waiting in the trees” Viara spoke walking up to them. “If we keep moving this way, we can make it to the hamlet....” she paused looking toward the forest beyond the wreck. “How long were we on the road?” She turned to ask Reynauld.

“3 hours” he answered immediately. Dismas rolled his eyes and the helmet turned slightly at him. He lifted his scarf and turned away feeling heat crawl up into his face.

“Ok that means we would have been on the road for about another hour by carriage. Trudging on foot I’d say it’s about a two and a half hour trek the rest of the way. Obviously off the road.”

Dismas turned and looked in the direction Viara had indicated. The tree canopy was thick and moonlight broke through the shadows in slender translucent beams scattered throughout the visible forest. It was an otherworldly scene, the light was only a ghost of itself, struggling to exist amongst the palpable darkness.

Hooves approached in the distance.

They all turned to the same eerie abyss across the circular clearing they had landed in, big to leave them dangerously out in the open. They could barely see beyond the trees meaning eyes could already be on them and Dismas instinctively pulled out his pistol and drew his dagger. He crouched and began to back up to the tree line behind them, checking the edges for movement. He found a hiding place a bit away from where the carriage lay and Reynauld followed him. Viara moved swiftly behind a large tree to Reynaulds left, and slipped her hand into an invisible pocket on her skirt and pulled out a gleaming dagger. Dismas was staring from his hiding place in bewilderment as she began shed some layers.

She looked up, winked at him over Reynaulds crouched figure and began to unhook her skirt and petticoat from the edge of her bodice. She stepped gingerly out of her garments and stood cloaked, corseted, and clad in black leather pants her dress had concealed.

Who is this woman?

She got lower behind her tree facing the clearing. Between them, Reynauld drew his sword as quietly as possible and held his arm behind him, the blade running the length of his arm, tip dangerously close to where his ears were under his helmet. Dismas swore he could see the knight shrink with tension, locking in kinetic energy, coiled and cocked on bended knee ready to pounce. He took a moment to stare and wondered what color the crusaders eyes were beneath his helm. Green he thought to himself

What?!Pay attention!

Dismas felt judged by this man since the moment he met him and was maddened by the idea of not being able to see his face. He found it difficult to properly hate him and resented the knight further for it. Dismas’ attention was suddenly shifted.

The hooves stopped nearby and they looked to one another, battle being there best chance to not get caught in the dense forest.

There was a collective unconsciousness between them....
The enemy was here to inspect the wreck.
They’ll have to enter the clearing.
The enemy will be exposed.

Two men stepped out from the tree line on the opposite end of the clearing.
Reynauld turned to Viara and pointed at his eyes and then in the direction behind her so she could focus on their left. He turned to give Dismas the same order but, to his horror could only see a hooded figure approaching the edge of the clearing from behind them, Dismas nowhere to be found. Reynauld caught a glimpse of the brigands pistol and assumed since he hadn’t shot, he couldn’t see them.

Suddenly, a gunshot and then another.

The brigand fell amongst the shadows, muffled by the foliage and everyone froze.

Dismas leapt out of the trees and tumbled gracefully into the large circular space, crouched between two sets of men, each surprised to a halt. Reynauld took the chance.

He bum-rushed the pair closest to the wreck and in one swift swing the first of the two fell, head cleanly sliced off his neck. The second brigand drew a pistol and pointed at the crusader. Dismas lunged passed Reynauld from his perched position and dug his blade deep into his enemies’ chest, the two falling over with all his weight behind the thrust. The pair furthest from them drew their guns and fired, one missing all together but the other lodging a bullet into Reynauld's visor, knocking him backward into the carriage.

They drew weapons for close combat and sprinted at the stunned knight. Dismas stepped out in front of Reynauld and pointed his unloaded gun at them, the feint stopping them in their tracks. One of the bandits was suddenly struck in the face by something small that cracked and burst, ceramic sounding. Thick black smoke engulfed his entire upper body, coughing and swiping madly at the air around him. Abandoning his comrade for the crusader, Dismas hastily planted himself between them, ready for combat.

The bandit closed the distance quickly and swung from above. Reynauld hopped up from behind Dismas, wrapped an arm around his waist holding him close and spun him around putting himself in place for the coming blow. The club slammed down on Reynauld's half raised gauntlet and he buckled, dropping to one knee as Dismas took a step back trying not to stumble. The bandit raised his club again and with a fluttering swoosh, a dagger pierced the mans bicep. Viara was running toward them, another dagger drawn and at the ready and Dismas readied himself to lunge, aiming for his enemies exposed underarm. Suddenly from behind, a hand grabbed Dismas by his collar and threw him an alarming distance away from Reynauld.

An imposing hooded man, with the breadth one of the carriage wheels, stepped forward. He held a multi-tailed whip, each strip of leather pierced with small sharp studs and razors, haphazardly pinned.

Viara reached the man she’d maimed and leapt at him, her gleaming blade slid cleanly between his shoulder blades as she jumped upward at him. The two bodies knocked into the massive one, but he barely moved and Viara was now on the ground before him. She raised her arms up in front of her as the huge brigand swung his whip across her makeshift shield. Her delicate sleeves ripped like paper and she fell off the dead man from the force of it.

Dismas had reloaded and shot at the hulking bandit. He didn’t pierce the leather that struggled to stay closed around his barrel like figure but provided enough time for Reynauld to stand and swing at their enemy. He missed and took a lash from the whip but swung again. Reynauld quickly took to the defensive fully protected by his armor hoping to tire the larger man out.

Their earlier foe finally regained some composure after the burning smoke subsided and brandished his blades in a flurry of rage. Dismas stopped reloading and ran over, planting himself behind Reynauld who was locked in combat and paused, squaring each other up. They bounded toward each other and Dismas was quicker, making swift work of him with only two precise slashes from his blade. His enemy fell, a gash across his face and another across his neck.

Before Viara could turn back to Reynauld his body flew in her direction landing a few feet in front of her before nimbly getting on his feet. The giant had grabbed him by the arm and flung him, ripping the entirety of his arms armor fittings off.

She threw a dagger passed Reynauld's head and pierced the juggernauts bare chest. He howled and ran at them furious, his body unfazed by the small blade jutting from his fatty bosom. His agility caught them both off guard and his lengthy arm had more than enough reach, too fast for Reynauld's sword to block, his newly exposed arm taking the hit. The nails and razors stuck in him for a second before following the flow of the strike, taking leather and skin from Reynauld's arm. He stumbled backward from the force, knocking into Viara, sending her tripping over gnarled vegetation. He recovered quickly, rooting one foot behind him and backing a swing with the force of both hands, this time the crusader was far swifter than his foe.

Reynauld's blade lodged itself in the mans’ wrist, and his hand fell limp, hanging half off his wrist. He released his whip and gripped his almost severed hand, yowling from shock and pain. Before the giant dropped to his knees, Reynauld chopped down at the giants’ neck. His head too now hung limply half off his body and for a moment all they could hear was their own heavy breathing.

Suddenly...a rustle in the dark.

Reynauld quickly looked toward the noise and before he could see anything in the trees a gunshot rang out, accompanied by a heavy thud.

Another bandit had fallen face first into the clearing from the shadows, pistols in each hand. Reynauld turned around to find Dismas, watching him as he lowered his own firearm. The crusader felt conflicted in that moment, the murdering thief saved his life.

He thought; the heavens have a strange humor.

Memory of the start of the battle flashed across his mind; Dismas stopped their first enemy from firing their pistol. Twice saved by the murdering thief…strange humor indeed.

Reynauld couldn’t help but notice that Dismas was practically sparkling in the moonlight. He was dotted with beads of sweat that caught the light as his heavy breathing swelled his chest and flexed his neck. He appeared far more fit that Reynauld gave him credit and now wouldn’t doubt his efficacy at hand to hand combat. He kept staring, his mouth agape, his helmet a blessing in so many ways. He swallowed hard and was embarrassed at the saliva build up in his mouth. Reynauld began to recite the verses in earnest in his mind and turned his back to Dismas

The highwayman kept his eyes on Reynauld, confused by his pause, without seeing his face Dismas had no idea how to interpret any of their interactions. Reynauld quickly busied himself, rummaging through their discarded packs while Dismas approached Viara with bandages.

“Here, I’ll move your sleeves” he said handing her a roll of clean white cloth. He hesitated seeing up close how elegant the simple fabric was, not sure how to treat such finery.

“Oh, just tear the damn things, it’s only a shirt.” they chuckled and he tore her sleeves open.

“Thanks for almost asking though” she winked.

“Well it was a nice shirt” he said gently wrapping the bandages around her forearms. All that remained on her arms were cuffs, the rest of the sleeves hung in tattered strips, heavy from soaking up blood.

“Neat work. Thank you” she said as he cut the bandage, her arm tended to.

He turned his attention to Reynauld who was collecting the arm plates of his armor. Dismas couldn't help but notice how massive his exposed arm was without the layer of armor, which he shamelessly took note of before the bleeding. He walked over to him with some bandage left.

“Here there’s still some-“

“No” he said abruptly, not turning around to say it.

“But you’re blee- “

“More may be coming. We have to keep moving.” Reynauld said more to Viara, dismissing Dismas entirely.

“Fine bleed out” Dismas said nonchalantly, putting the bandage back into his coat. He was casual in response but Dismas was seething.

Reynauld ignored the comment, he couldn't be indebted to this man in any more ways. His ears rang suddenly, drowning out all other sound. Reynauld began to sweat and then the many voices that spoke in unison, piercing through the ringing.

And what say the verses?
But he is a thief and a murderer.

And what say the verses?
But he indulges in sin and vice.

And what say the verses?
But how can the verses serve such a man

WHICH verses Reynauld?! Which of the man you have committed to memory serves YOU and not HIM?! WHICH CAN ABSOLVES YOU THAT CANNOT HIM?!

They were all screaming and then all at once, they became silent. A small chink noise brought his attention back to the clearing, the bullet lodged in the slit of his visor popped out and fell onto the grass. He stared down at it, listening to the wind in the trees. Death and Dismas had hovered close to Reynauld tonight and it shook him to his core, still staring down at the dented bullet passed the dented helmet. A wanted thief had kept Reynauld from the ferryman and noting he could do would change that. Dismas watched on, confused while Reynauld stood in place looking at the ground.

“Reynauld?” he asked the knight. Reynauld straightened, turned only his head and spoke over his shoulder,

“The horses they rode here must still be nearby. You two stay here and reload the rifles if they weren’t destroyed in the crash. I’ll fetch the horses and meet you on the road. Stay on the edge out of sight.” Reynauld spoke the words as he moved toward the tree line and disappeared before any response could be made.

Dismas was confused and looked to Viara who simply shrugged it off and went to the two bodies she’d struck, collecting the small daggers from their flesh. Dismas pulled the one good rifle from the dilapidated carriage and began to load it.

“So, do you generally sew secret dagger pockets in your gowns?” Dismas asked without looking up from his work.

She laughed never hearing it put that way. Viara ducked behind a tree and gathered her cloak she’d discarded for agility’s sake. She knew she’d have to explain several points.

“Not all of them no. Originally, I had them commissioned just to have pockets to rest my damned hands, standing about soirees all night doing nothing. But once they told me only men need pockets I did it to most of them. Who knew, pockets for women...a mad fashion” she said, smiling at the memory.

“And your rifle skills?” Dismas asked while gently lobbing the loaded rifle at Viara.

“Oh, that wasn’t anything irregular. My family was a hunting family. My elder sister and two younger brothers all learned to how load and shoot rifles mainly. I’ve shot my fair share in the wild” she grinned fiendishly.

“And did all your family learn how to throw a dagger and fight with a blade?” He asked, walking across the clearing toward its edge. Viara smiled and jogged a step or two to reach Dismas’ side and swung her free arm around his neck, gently over his shoulder.

“At least buy me a drink before prying into my past good sir.” they shared a laugh and she stopped them at the tree line and turned to him, her face serious but somehow still delicate.

“Thank you Dismas.” she said.

“Uh well thank you too-“ he said, surprised by the sentiment

“I know I haven’t given you a choice in all this and I’m sorry. But I can’t say I’m not glad. So, thanks” she said patting him hard on the shoulder.

“Now let’s be off and not keep our sentinel waiting. The sooner we get to some drink the sooner I can explain this madness to you.” Again, with no choice he followed her into the abyss toward the old road.

Chapter Text

Dismas jolted awake from a sharp whistle and then a startling visual.
A towering man was standing in the doorway to the small room, the width of the doorway itself. Beyond that, what startled him most was the veiled helmet he held at his side.

Musar.

Dismas fell off the bed kicking the sheets into the air, landing on his coat that had already been discarded on the floor. He was thankful he fell off the side furthest from the bounty hunter, and crouched, only his head visible. Before he even thought to search for his gun, Musar lobbed his pistol and dagger onto the mattress. He laughed and displayed perfect teeth, disarming Dismas with such a dashing smile. His dark stubble surrounded the stark white and pink of his mouth making its stunning effects incredibly potent.

“Settle down. I’m not here to collect you. We’re on the same side remember.”

“I thought she only hired you to find me.”

“Ah. No no, I’ve been hired long term.”

Dismas stood up, boots and pants still on though his shirt hung off him, closed by only the last two buttons. Musar stepped forward into a column of light from the window and Dismas swallowed hard.

Lit up, his face was regal. His skin was a dark olive tone, tan by nature not by sun. Catching the light, Musar's eyes glowed like honey in glass and his black hair was long enough to slick back. He stepped to the bed, nudging it intentionally into Dismas' shin, and looked him up and down. Before he could think the large man bathing in the morning sun shocked him again.

“I want to apologize for last night” Musar said this lowering his voice, making it smoother. Dismas was bewildered by the statement and took a moment. Then another.

“Do you remember last night?” Musar asked.

The implication startled him because he couldn’t remember. The fight in the forest and the ride to the hamlet were relatively intact memories. Then the hamlet's tavern....and then nothing.

“We made it here and had drinks....” Dismas said more to himself than Musar. He rubbed his forehead, pain slowly flourishing. “...lots of drinks.”
Musar chuckled and Dismas looked up at him indignant. There was silence as he flexed his brain trying to remember until Musar relieved him of his torture.

“When I arrived you and Viara had already begun drinking. From what she says she began to explain herself and you took it well given the information. Though now it looks like you may need to hear it again” he said smiling.

Took it well? The words roused his brain. The memory of the tavern began to piece itself together.

“I do remember!” Dismas almost shouted and winced at the throb erupting at his temples. It was hard to concentrate. He could taste bile and alcohol in his mouth.

“Viara told me...she told me about a letter. From an ancestor...her uncle.” Hearing the words chilled him. The crescent shape flashed before his eyes for a few blinks. He tried to shake his mind free of it, sending waves of pain reverberating across his skull. Dismas sucked his teeth, the radiating headache overwhelming his thoughts. He began to remember his feelings from last night before he could remember its literal events. He knew the letter wasn’t good news and it frightened him. He knew she was also afraid and now he was nauseous. Dismas looked up at Musar, his face asking for explanation and Musar obliged.

“The letter Viara received from her uncle explained how he had unleashed some literal hell upon this place” he began nonchalantly. “He gave vague details and assured that a diary and documents in his manor would explain further. To get her to the estate he sent quite a bit of coin and a trinket or two. Help corroborate things. The ambush threw off how she was planning on telling you.”

“Trinkets? The hell does that mean?” Dismas asked going to sit on the bed. He stopped himself and remained standing, not wanting to be at any type of disadvantage in this mans’ presence.

“Her uncle over some years procured many an artifact and ancient treasure. Some by excavation and others by ways he only described as ‘summoning machinations from the abyss’. Apparently, he was luxurious in his tastes so when they intensified, he sought...otherworldly delights.”
Musar spoke those last two words in a softer tone whilst running a thumb across his lower lip, still staring at Dismas. Dismas went blank.

What IS this morning?

“Wait that doesn’t explain your coming to apologize.”

“That’s right it doesn’t” he walked to the window, pausing for a moment.

“I want to apologize for scaring you.” Musar said, turning to Dismas. The thief narrowed his eyes at him perplexed.

“Scaring me?”

“Yes. When I got to the hamlet, I headed to the tavern and I saw you a little ways away, taking a piss by a wall. Viara says you two had really threw them back so you were pretty drunk.” the bounty hunter said, trying to keep a face straight.

“I....unintentionally snuck up on you and when you saw it was me you...threw up.”

Dismas was mortified as the moment came back to him.

“Then....” he continued and Dismas turned away, the next memory coming in clear, praying Musar wouldn’t keep going.

“You tried to run but tripped over your feet, fell and blacked out.”

He could see how ridiculous a scene that must have looked like and it certainly explained his headache. A particular memory suddenly came to mind.

“And Reynauld?” he asked quicker than he liked, and Musar's golden eyes hardened at the eagerness, almost black.

“Our resident crusader? He went straight to the abbey...after putting you to bed.” Dismas froze and didn’t want to face Musar, feeling himself turn red. He had to; he couldn’t let this man see him vulnerable for the umpteenth time.

“Excuse me?” Dismas asked as dignified as he could.

“Well you were knocked out, so we figured to let you sleep it off. Viara suggested he do it not wanting to risk giving you a heart attack should you...wake up to me.” Again, he spoke the last few words differently than the rest.

The thought of Reynauld taking Dismas into his arms and laying him in bed was absurd. He felt as ridiculous as Reynauld must have looked carrying him up to a room.

“But I don’t remember him in the tavern.”

“He’d gone to the barracks to speak to the smith about his armor. Surprised the man still had fires lit at that hour. I went to get him” Musar was still for a moment.

“He seemed...concerned about you” he spoke it slowly. It made the hair on Dismas neck stand up.

“There’s a surprise” Dismas scoffed trying to not appear as flustered as Reynauld seems to make him.

“Well I wouldn’t know what twists that mans’ balls honestly. Haven’t seen his face yet. Hard to trust a man.” Musar shrugged and Dismas was glad he wasn’t the only one driven absolutely insane by that.

“I guess I was the last to know the truth about all this, he needed no explanation?”

“Looks like it. Viara could only have snared herself a holy knight by telling him a truth like this from the start. A man like him wouldn’t chose to help a woman like her unless it spoke to his beliefs and cause. It’s his only fuel.”

“And what cause it that?”

“Oh, you know, cleansing the land of sin, upholding righteousness, combating evil and so on. I tried to tell him he and I are basically in the same business. Didn’t like that much.”

He suddenly noticed that Musar was now moving toward him from the foot of the bed and backed away, knocking into the bedside table that was closer than he thought. The bounty hunter hadn’t taken his eyes off him since turning from the window and now silhouetted by the sun at his back, he was all the more menacing. Musar stepped up to Dismas, barely two inches between them now. His body heat was intense and if he hadn’t felt it the rainy night prior, he’d have blamed the sunlight. Dismas looked up at him trying to ignore the mans’ candescence.

“Well?” He asked grinning. This time Dismas refused to break the stare.

“Well what?” He said as threateningly as one could put such a question. He felt like a hen before a fox, but he refused to crack.

“Do you forgive me?”

The question turned off all other sound. Dismas was again totally caught off guard by this very dangerous and obnoxiously beautiful man.

“Uh....yea. Sure. Just try not scaring the piss outta someone who’s already pissing.” Musars laugh boomed and Dismas winced from pain. Silence fell between them and Dismas couldn’t tell what about this man made him so anxious. He knew he wasn’t going to kill him, but he knew this man to be lethal.

“I’m glad. Trust is important. Keeps a party together.”

“...I agree.” He couldn’t think and Musar wasn’t helping. The bounty hunter wasn’t just staring him in the eyes, unblinking, he was scanning his face as if searching for something or memorizing his features. He tilted his head and Dismas was certain his eyes went to his neck. Musar appeared fascinated and Dismas all the more confused.

“You stink of sick” the bounty hunter said abruptly taking a step back and headed toward the door.

“The barracks has a bathtub or two. Townsfolk don’t use it and Viaras’ designated it specifically for the incoming help. It’s near the smithy so there’s hot water. If you can’t find Viara amongst the work then I assume she’s up at the manor sifting through her uncles’ bullshit” Musar said, pausing by the rooms exit.

“What work?” Dismas said, walking to the window.

Townsfolk were moving supplies of all sorts to different parts of the hamlet and it came back to him. He remembered Viara telling him at the tavern how she’d spent what fortune her family had left and what amount she’d “dug up”, for the hamlet.

She had sent food and supplies for its reconstruction ahead of her while she fetched Dismas. The town was thankful whether out of desperation or generosity of spirit they had heard her out and accepted her plan. They placed their trust in her family’s hands again and Viara genuinely wanted to redeem her family if not her own honor and Dismas didn’t know if he could admit why he felt compelled to help her. He was moved by it then and now

“Where shoul- “Dismas turned but Musar was gone. How was that muscular statue of a man so delicate on his feet? Dismas shifted his weight from one foot to the other making the floor creak and moan.

How did that handsome bastard do it?

He walked to the foot of the bed, sat and sighed deeply, hanging his head to hide his eyes from the dazzling sunlight. Slouching with his chin on his chest he leaned forward, each elbow on a knee and held his face in his hands. As he sat motionless and devoid of all thought, the sun began to heat him. It became almost too intense to enjoy but he endured it, his skin yearned for it.

The highwayman raised his head, eyes closed, feeling the heat move across his face like waves and he basked. It radiated at him and he remembered Musar. His chest ending up close enough for Dismas to feel how the man himself radiated some type of heat. He remembered the smell...clove. The light from the sun started to hum in his ears and he took a deep breath, trying to recapture the smell.

Dismas shook his head and stood up. He couldn’t believe this; one surreal and endless night had turned his world upside down. He had no idea where he was and could only surmise it was some hour of morning. Dismas rubbed his face and surveyed the room he had no recollection of entering. There was a wash basin near a small desk and a wardrobe stood against the far wall, a clean white shirt hanging on its door.

First a bath he thought, collected his belongings and the clean shirt and left the room.

Chapter Text

The sun shone brightly over the hamlet, the encroaching overcast at the horizon not yet above them. Its occupants moved with a new vigor in this brilliant light they seldom experienced. The air was chilly from rain and the ground muddy but the cold would not cling. The sun was strong today and though it was an out of the ordinary atmosphere, it made them all more productive, more alive.

Dismas stepped out of the tavern, apparently early enough to not see any type of employee. He remembered Viara elbowing his side and teasing about how the rooms at the back of the tavern were, at the behest of her uncle, had long before turned them into a brothel. The town told her that he explained its necessity as an income property to provide for the hamlet.

‘Talk about hard times’ he recalled her saying while spilling some of her drink on them. He giggled at the joke a second time though he tried not to. This woman coerced him into helping her under the threat of imprisonment and or death. She was also raised a lady and that meant, in the art of conversation she was a great proficient, which to him was just a fancy way to know how to lie. So far, the only thing he could believe with certainty was the state of the hamlet.

Dismas took in the sight of an old dilapidated agora, the barracks and blacksmith lay across the small expanse opposite him and the tavern. To his left up the way was a large and imposing building. It had an odd tower making it look a century or two older than the rest of the structures and with so few windows, he couldn’t fathom its use. On the northern side of the hamlet’s center, slightly more detached from the rest, sat the hamlet’s abbey. It was small and flanked on one side by an equal sized cemetery and an even larger cloister. Like the rest of this place it was worse for wear to say the least, stained glass windows broken and panes empty. Statues within were broken, seen through broken outer walls. He could just make out candles still lit glowing from afar, the edifice shrouded in darkness. It was bittersweet to think that people continued to worship there while it fell to pieces around them.

That’s when he saw it in the distance beyond the abbey.

It was a large mansion at the top of the cliffside hill and the sight made his skin crawl. It was close enough to make out that it wasn’t age alone weighing on it, easily able to see most of its remains blackened by flames, however recent he couldn't tell. Dismas turned away shaking off a sudden ringing in his ears.

He walked across the center of town and passed a crumbled statue at its apex, gnarled and twisting roots coiled around its base. This standing rubble had the same skin crawling effect as the manor on the hill and he quickened his pace.

Dismas greeted the blacksmith with a wave and he nodded in kind. Behind the forge were the barracks to the guild Vaira’s uncle had erected. He used to call on all sorts to come and help in his endeavors, now however it was practically abandoned. The space at the end of the barracks was made into an open bath area and given its close proximity to the forge, it maintained a constant state of cozy humidity.

He wasted no time filling one of the two large metal tubs with water from rudimentary and crude piping jutted from the wall. Dismas assumed whatever bizarre plumbing system they created passes by the forge in some manner because the water immediately came out warm, almost hot. He filled a small brazier with glowing coals from the smithy and put it by the tub for extra heat, he so rarely had the time to clean himself properly let alone to soak in a warm tub.

He rushed to undress and let his clothes fall where they may all around him and gingerly lowered himself into the bath. The tub itself was large and being of average height and weight he was able to submerge himself completely, slicking back his hair as he came up for air and laid back, every muscle in him relaxing. The blackmail, the soreness from the carriage crash and fight, his blackout hangover, the knight who probably hates him, the bounty hunter who may literally want to eat him and the overall abysmal tone of this entire less than 24 hour period, melted away.

It lasted all but twenty minutes before he heard footsteps in the barracks and his spirit sank to the bottom of the tub.

“THIS is where we are?!” Viara said dramatically as she came around the corner into the space. Dismas was glad it was at least her. She had two towels, another brazier of coals and a bottle of some type.

“I come with gifts, some enthusiasm, Sir” she said smiling wide at him. He couldn’t help but smile back.

She put the brazier between their tubs and handed Dismas a towel. He kept it folded and placed it behind his head.

“Thank you.”

Viara gave him a sound ‘mhm’ and removed her clothes. He sunk down slightly into his bath water surprised, but appreciated how comfortable she was moving about naked. She was slender, fit and now in the nude he could see her legs made up more than half of her body length. She looked ethereal in the slight mist of the room and began to fill the second tub.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, stepping into her tub. She sprinkled water over the brazier and as it hissed, ribbons of smoke hovering slowly in the moist air. Viara sat back and exhaled deeply.

“Better, I guess. All things considered.”

“Indeed! We’ve arrived safely. And now...a bath.” Viara closed her eyes smiling. Dismas didn’t know if her blasé attitude toward this was endearing or irritating.

“Though I’d like to suggest that hired under the threat of death may not make for the best work environment” he added, deciding to be annoyed.

“Oh, I know” she said facing him a moment as if they spoke of another who’d done the deed and not she herself. She closed her eyes and leaned back.

“And you’re being quite the sport, Dismas, thank you.” Viara took a long and steady breath, settling into a comfortable position.

He became indignant but remained silent. What would challenging her achieve? He couldn’t leave without being at the mercy of Musar and having absolutely no inclination as to where he literally was and wouldn’t know in which direction to escape. It could be worse in a myriad of ways so part of him was glad she was his extortionist. He’d have to roll with this, intransigence wouldn’t help him now.

A comfortable silence filled the space. He had questions for her but couldn’t bring himself to ask, he didn’t want to shift the atmosphere, not yet. The steam snaked around them, suspended opaque waves flowing slowly, their bodies likewise tuning to a lower tranquil frequency.

Time passed and before she slipped into sleep Viara shifted and sat up.

“You feel well enough for a little fun tonight?” she was so relaxed she almost whispered it.

“What did ya have in mind?” Dismas groaned, he too shifting to avoid passing out.

“Well, I found some maps today. Shows some large ruins close by. Seems our little abbey and the mansion on the hill are proxies of some gigantic family plot turned monastery on the western grounds of the estate. I’m certain that it was the main living quarters for the family. It was several large manors that they half converted into cloisters of some kind when some left to lord over their own estates. Was the size of a village and apparently has extensive underground tunneling for heavens knows what. About half collapsed, taking chunks of the place with it into the earth. Townsfolk say it’s ‘haunted” Viara said gesturing quotation marks with her hands.

“That sounds awful. Why are we roaming around monastic family ruins?” he couldn’t suppress a yawn having stewed so long.

“Nothing too strenuous. Mainly just reconnaissance, see what’s in there and if the maps are any good. Maybe take as much loot as we can carry. I’d rather not get lost tonight let alone run into any squatters.”

Dismas turned to look at her. She was lifting a leg up out of the water to massage her calf and faced him as she did so.

“Just us two?” he asked.

“Certainly not. Reynauld and Musar are coming of course.” Viara moved on to massaging her neck and shoulders, taking full advantage of how pliable the heat made her muscles.

Dismas had mixed emotions. The unknown of the ruins was enough to be concerned about on top of potential squatters. The bandits they fought on the road were formidable enemies and it wouldn't be so hard to believe that a giant chunk of abandoned land wouldn't be perfect to set up in. That aside, he was still unsure about his traveling companions, sans Viara though he refused to trust her fully. Not until he knows more.

“They already know about tonight’s excursion?” Dismas started to massage his arms and neck in preparation for the nights intended ‘fun’.

“They do. Reynauld went to help the blacksmith with his arm plates and then to the abbey to help the priest or whomever. Been there all day and told him on my way here to stop and save some arm strength for tonight. I imagine Musar is about, doing who knows what?”

“I imagine doing as he pleases” Dismas said with obvious venom. Viara smirked to herself, knowing how he meant it.

“Yes and no. As long as he’s paid, Musar does as he’s told and with no question. He likes to keep things simple and rarely says much to most” she shrugged. “That’s not to say the man isn’t intelligent.”

Dismas silently questioned that.

“How did you find him?”

“Ha! Bastard found me” she scoffed.

“On...contract?” Dismas asked, confused as to why a bounty hunter would be after her. A sly grin slithered across her face and she looked fiendish. Dismas chuckled, genuinely amused and curious.

“And why is our Lady Viara Allard Beauffant with a bounty upon her head?” he asked her, eyes slightly wide in amused shock at hearing her full name. Viara picked up and took a swig from the dark bottle she brought with her. She passed it to Dismas and he followed suit, enjoying the familiar burn of alcohol warming his throat. He didn’t care what it was, it was lovely.

“The way I funded this whole thing is why. I sure as hell didn’t have enough of my own fortune and my uncle didn’t send me nearly enough for anything. So, I raided the private burial ground of my late husband’s family. Along with some of my own family that were buried relatively close by. Greedy bastards the lot of them. Barely left wills, filling graves and mausoleums with their valuables to collect dust. All I was left with when my UNintended died was debt with people you wouldn’t want to owe a single strand of hair to.”

Dismas passed her the bottle after another swig. For whatever reason none of it shocked him. She chugged deeply and passed the bottle back.

“Sold the house and most of what was inside at a loss but kept the land though...might sell that soon too.” She looked sad at the mention of her old home.

“After that I left for even deeper countryside to disappear. My family had old properties tucked away under different surnames. Who knows where those families went but I knew I wouldn’t be found. Little by little I went back and raided them all. It wasn’t as much as I’d assumed but by then I had a knack for it so I roamed about to other cemeteries. Met some folk, learned some things, killed some other folk. Self-defense of course. I was a lady before I was a grave robber.”

Dismas almost spit out his gulp of liquor.

“Easy!” She laughed at him as he coughed his throat clear.

“That bottle's pretty old” Viara said as she leaned her neck back, letting her hair sink deeper into the water. She ran her fingers through her hair, eyes closing, enjoying her pampering.

“Light help us, this isn’t your uncle’s is it?” He asked half serious as he took a swig. He worried a moment when she chuckled.

“God no. I took it from the abbey.”

Dismas almost choked on the liquid a second time. He held the bottle out in front of him but there was nothing to indicate its source. Viara continued to comb her hair with her fingers, eyes still closed.

“It’s not like they drink any of it. At least not the liquor.” She dunked her head beneath the water. He took one last long chug waiting till she broke the surface.

“Why do they have it?”

“The family had the monks making beer and chartreuse by the abbey for years before my uncle was born. For him it was another source of revenue so he kept them at it for as long as he could” she said wiping the excess water from her eyes.

“So, the bounty?”

“Right! Well, lots of families wanted me dead but only one of them hired Musar and he’s a damn good bounty hunter. He found me the day after I got the letter and package from my uncle. When he came for me that night I had already made up my mind about the hamlet and figured I’ll need help and didn't want to die so...I struck a deal with our striking Musar. At that point I had amassed a small fortune and had most of it in the house when he showed up. I made him an offer and we signed a deal. First, I paid him to take out whatever angry distant relation that was paying him to kill me. Then I showed him the letter.

“Musar is smart and well connected. He’d heard of strange happenings by the estate. Here and there rumors whispered about necromancers and cultists, monsters and mutations, pure evil and the like. At the very least he was curious and I had promised him double whatever my bounty was upfront and endless spoils from this whole business. Then I put him to work finding you which apparently isn’t too easy. Looking for you was quite the Augean task I’m told. Not that he seems to mind looking at you” she winked at him from her tub.

Dismas blushed, still hoping he had misunderstood absolutely every single part of his morning with Musar. For an infinitesimal moment he smelled clove.

He had no words and prayed he only appeared flushed by the heat and that he didn’t turn a new shade of red. Viara laughed but her face was gentle and sympathetic.

“Dismas...I couldn’t care less who you fuck. I hope you don’t care about who I fuck and I’m sure Musar doesn’t care WHAT he fucks.”

They laughed from their guts, long and genuine. Viara gasped and wheezed while Dismas cackled on and on. Their laughter tapered off into chuckles as they wiped tears from their eyes. There was another moment of calmness between them before Viara rose from her tub.

“As I’m sure you’ve surmised, we’re staying at the tavern. The room you were in is of course yours and mine on the other end of the hall” she began as she dried off with her towel.

“If you’re hungry, talk to the barkeep Bastien, he knows not to charge you. We'll meet outside the tavern at half past five” she said stepping into a pair of riding boots.

“Gotcha” Dismas said, leaning back but sat up immediately when he remembered.

“Wait, what time is it?”

“I’d say three” she said, ringing out some of her hair with her hands.

Dismas nodded, almost dizzy and disoriented having been awake so long with no track of time. He had assumed Musar woke him at some hour of morning.

“Actually, how about you join me for an early dinner so we can talk more before we leave. I have some letters to write so...let’s say in an hour?”

“My goodness. Being asked to dinner by a lady. In the buff no less” he said smirking, feigning modesty. Viara chuckled.

“Naturally you’re very welcome. I’ll collect you from your room.” She put her nose in the air and sauntered out of the room, adorned in a towel and riding boots.

Dismas slid deeper into the water and took a deep breath. Tonight would be simple, quick and clean. Just a bit of recon he told himself. He’d never claimed to have any type of heightened intuition but he felt a gnawing apprehension about tonight’s revelries. He took another deep breath and stood up lest he fall asleep in the tub. He’d only just finished fastening his pants and boots when he heard footsteps again.

“Forget your delicate unmentionables?” he said turning around with a chuckle.

Dismas was mortified to see a large and muscular man standing there instead of who he assumed was Viara. He had only managed to fasten the two bottom most buttons of his shirt before freezing in place, exposed twofold.

“Sorry...I thought” Dismas wasn’t sure how to continue, having noticed how tall and shirtless the man was. He was sweating and as filthy as the shirt he held in his hands, chest heaving slightly as if he had been running. His pectorals shone slick, catching the light with every breath. They stared at each other in an awkward silence.

Dismas was struck dumb by his eyes, they were the most vivid emerald he’d ever seen, enthralled by the color and then by his face. A strong brow was held up by his otherworldly green eyes that somehow remained soft through their intensity. His nose was sturdy and most likely broken more than once, only adding to his a charm. His beard was full and dark as opposed to the delicate brown of his hair. It was short but just long enough to curve just right from the sweat.

Dismas flushed red having been so obvious. In an effort to escape the scene as soon as possible, he forsook the buttons he was fumbling with and moved to exit.

“I’m just finished up, all yours” he said briskly passing the man, eyes to the floor.

Cringing, Dismas stopped after a few steps having remembered that he'd forgotten his coat. He took a deep breath and turned only to be startled by the tall stranger that had stepped toward him. He closed the space between them and was holding the coat out to Dismas.

“Oh! Uh...thanks very much” he managed to spit out. Before a response could be made Dismas scooped his coat from the man’s hands and left without even putting it on. He made his way to the tavern without looking up from the ground once.

Dismas lobbed his balled-up coat onto the bed and stood by the door a moment, hating the small interaction practically ruining his relaxing bath. He shuffled to the bed and sat down, searching the coat for his pipe and as he moved it about to find the pockets, a wad of white fabric tumbled out of the folds. He unfurled it and held up before him a large, filthy tunic heavy with sweat. Dismas sighed deep and instantly realized where it came from.

“Shit.”

He must have swept it up out of the strangers hands with his coat in his rush to leave the barracks. Dismas looked down at the dusty mass of sweaty tunic now in his lap, defeated. Slowly the smell of frankincense surrounded him

Dismas sniffed the air and inhaled more of the scent before slowly bringing the shirt to his nose. It was indeed frankincense and this tunic, the source. He hesitated, then brought it closer, recognizing a faint floral scent mixed in as well; jasmine or gardenia. The back of his neck tingled and he took a deeper breath. The floral was juxtaposed by the musk of warm wet skin. He remembered the fierce but sad eyes of the shirt’s owner and held it closer. It had been a long time since he’d smelled the sweat of a man let alone one as handsome as this stranger. The shirt touched the tip of his nose and broke the reverie. Dismas tossed it to the foot of the bed, frustrated and bashful. He abandoned the idea of smoking and laid down half on the bed, deciding a few moments sleep before Viara came to collect him would be best.

Dinner in the tavern downstairs consisted of a light stew and even lighter conversation. Dismas and Viara traded stories of their own exploits as hardened criminals and other morally questionable escapades. She rolled her eyes explaining her tedious childhood of governesses and French lessons. He regaled her with how he learned to swindle people in card games and bamboozle others with lies about palmistry and divination. They laughed a good portion of the hour and it eased his mind some. If she had secrets to keep, he wouldn’t find them out over stew in a semi crowded tavern. Enjoying himself was easy.

The signal to leave was a looming Musar surprising them at the table, smiling wide, glad to have caught them off guard. Dismas avoided eye contact with the man who was obviously staring. He drank from his cup slowly, believing the least amount of communication between them the better.

“Supplies are ready” he said to Viara while looking at Dismas.

“Do you generally interrupt dinners you’ve not been invited to?” She asked, adjusting her wide brimmed hat and looking up at him.

“Generally, no. Unless what’s on the table is too good not to taste.”

Dismas glared up at the smiling bounty hunter and his plump lips. That disarming smile only added to his terrifying mystique. Even in the dim candlelight of the tavern his amber colored eyes glowed. Dismas wondered if his stubble was simply forever that perfect length.

“Dinners over, mate” Dismas said standing, he took a final swig from his cup and put it down harder than necessary. He meant to appear threatening but knew once he was at full height only an army behind him would help in any attempt at intimidating Musar. He’d almost forgotten how much taller than mostly everyone in the room Musar was.

He stepped up to Dismas.

“That depends on what I wanna eat” he said looking Dismas in the eyes, unblinking. He leaned down closer, reaching for Dismas cup. Eyes still on him, Musar traced his tongue across the lip of the cup where Dismas had drank from. He emptied its contents in one loud gulp. Viara appeared shocked but not enough to look away.

“Fuck off” Dismas barked. He stepped around the hulking manhunter and exited the tavern. The man was wholly indecent even in public.

He knew the air outside to be cold but his seething frustration and full belly protected him from the immediate chill of it. More so from habit than weather, he lifted his scarf closer to his nose. Dismas turned his back to the flow of a sudden breeze and adjusted his gloves. There was a scent on the wind....jasmine.

Dismas indulged himself and inhaled the scent deeply. For a moment, he was calm.

“Good evening” a muffled voice came from behind him. Dismas turned to behold a familiar animated suit of armor.

“Yea, hey” Dismas mumbled in response, turning back around.

He tensed up. This was the first time they’d seen each other after Reynauld carried him, blacked out, up to his room the night before. He felt he was protecting them both by deciding not to mention the subject but it gnawed at Dismas...the man had helped him after all. He sighed and turned around, not feeling he’d fallen low enough to abandon all common courtesy. Before he could even try to formulate any type of thank you, the tavern door swung open with perhaps more force than necessary.

“...yeah and there'll be a brothel for that” Viara had finished saying to a now helmed Musar. She adjusted her hat to the wind and smiled broadly at Dismas.

“Ah Reynauld, you’re here.”

“I’ve replaced the spade for two more torches, though the strange caretaker seemed apprehensive to part with them. I believe them more practical since you said you had no intention of traveling deep into the ruins tonight.” Reynaud’s body still faced Dismas as he spoke, visor down, still no eye contact.

It unnerved him just as much as it did last night but there was something else now. Reynauld had seen him not just vulnerable but utterly helpless, completely unconscious in his arms. Now the thought of being stared at by him was all the more penetrating.

Dismas felt suddenly embarrassed and resented the man’s very existence. He hated owing anyone in material ways let alone in this manner. It meant something to repay such a debt and Dismas wasn’t sure how to honor such a thing, especially considering the recipient. Would he even care that Dismas was grateful?

Dismas looked away rolled his eyes at himself.

“Well done, thank you. And I quite agree, we most certainly shall not tarry in such a place.” Viara drew her coat closer as a gust of wind surged all around them.

“Shall we then?” Musar asked delicately in mock. He had stepped closer to the three, somehow silently Dismas noticed. He averted his eyes from Musar who was now also masked, eyes hidden. The thought that unseen eyes might be upon him made his skin crawl, the cosmic .

The four of them stood there in silence, awkwardly placed in front of the tavern. They weren’t standing apart but remained disjointed, the space between them filled with a miasma of trepidation, each of them feeding it. Dismas felt it an inauspicious moment of silence for them as the wind coursed through the broken party.

The scent of jasmine was carried on the breeze again and Dismas felt hope for a moment.

Chapter Text

The silence in the ruins engulfed them as tangibly as its shadows did, their footfalls gobbled up by the starving darkness. The halls were wide and in the all-consuming abyss, the torch light could barely illuminate both sides as the darkness threatened to snuff out the flame with every step they took. Leading with the torch held aloft, Reynauld veered them closer to one side and pressed on, having one blind spot was better than two. The path against the wall provided little comfort to Dismas, as the adjacent was now completely obscured by the blackness. He was surprised when Reynauld immediately opposed the idea of him bringing up the rear. The crusader insisted that Musar take second position from the end to provoke enmity away from Dismas, should he be set upon. They marched forward and Dismas was glad Musar walked in front of him rather than behind him.

The first few rooms they entered were barren and dusty, having been long forgotten. As they walked on, the rooms off the halls became fewer and far between as intersections sprung up, forcing moments of pause to consult the map. The first boon they came upon was a discarded pack filled with heirlooms.

“Finally,” Vaira whispered as she stashed several documents and deeds into her bag.

Dismas couldn’t fathom what possible price they could fetch but couldn’t care less. Each time they paused to search a chest or pack, a ringing in his ears threatened to deafen him. Dismas dared not mention it to the others, afraid that saying it out loud would manifest something from the dark. The dark however did not wait for words from Dismas.

A corpse sprawled halfway out of the doorway to an upcoming room came into view. Reynauld motioned for them to pause and handed Viara the torch behind him. A faint glow could be seen emanating from the room ahead and they all stood perfectly still, straining their ears to hear for any movement from within.

Reynaud drew his sword and he held it at the ready. He cautiously stepped forward and positioned himself next to the doorframe to sneak a peek inside. The source of light they’d seen was from a collection of candles on the wall opposite the entrance. The delicate candlelight illuminated a relief depicting a monk in prayer. Reynauld stationed himself just outside the room as the others filed in to search it thoroughly. Dismas knelt next to the corpse, recognizing the familiar dark green garbs and elementary weapons; the bandits from the old road.

“Leave him something for the ferryman, Dismas” Musar genuinely asked as he rummaged through the room’s solitary bookshelf. Dimas knew he didn’t mean it sarcastically and was touched to hear Musar share such a sentiment.

“Won’t be hard, whatever killed him left him more than enough for a ride with ol’Charon” Dismas said as he held up various pouches of coin and jewels.

Reynauld suddenly hurried into the room and snatched the torch from Viara, plunging it into a puddle on the floor. Now the only light came from the few candles on the makeshift altar.

“To the walls” Reynauld whispered.

Musar and Viara moved to one side of the doorway and Reynauld and Dismas to the other.

The party listened as hefty footsteps moved slowly down the tenebrous hall, and as they drew nearer, breathing became audible. They could hear only a hollow inhale and no exhale. The sounds grew louder, keeping a lethargic pace.

The steady march stopped directly outside the room.

Every atom that Dismas was made of tensed up and fear poured into his lungs, slowly rising in them like ice water taking his breath away. Even the candle flames shrank, as if holding their breath. Could one drown from fear?

They froze when a large and unnaturally long arm slowly crept into view from the shadows. The hollow inhale was closer and on the verge of becoming a wheeze. The arm hovered across the body and in the light, they were horrified at its state. From fingertip to elbow, its’ scarred and hairy grey skin, was wet with blood, the arms musculature shone slick in the candlelight. Tendons in its clawed hands and forearm flexed as it seized a fistful of the corpses vest. With ungodly speed, whatever was outside the room dragged the lifeless body into the hall. Dismas closed his eyes and readied his pistol. They all strained their ears.

The steps began again and for a moment time stopped.

Which way would it go now?

It began to shuffle away from them, steady thuds now accompanied by the scarping of a corpse against the stone floor. They remained petrified until it grew too faint to hear and even then, when total silence invaded the space, they didn’t dare move.

Reynauld turned his head to Dismas as they stood with their backs against the wall, and watched him take slow and intentional breaths. His eyes were closed in focus and it gave Reynauld the chance to take him in. The last time he beheld Dismas in a moment of stillness he was in bed, bathed in moonlight. Then, Dismas lay heavy on clean white linens, adorably red cheeked from drink and drooling just a little at the corner of his mouth. He remembered how gentle his breathing was, chest rising slow and steady from slumber. Reynauld felt bashful remembering how he lingered by his bed that night, selfishly taking in the sight. Presently, Dismas was trying to steady his breathing and Reynauld loathed seeing him in such a state. He was suddenly overcome by the all-encompassing need to protect this man.

“Are you alright?” he whispered. Dismas opened his eyes, caught off guard hearing the question spoken so softly, abating his fear momentarily.

“Yea. You?” Dismas was barely audible to himself.

Reynauld unjustly took complete advantage of being able to look directly into his eyes, safe behind a visor. He would never confess to him how greedily he ate up his visage at such a time. Fear and desire smothered the verses in his stuttering mind, and he centered himself with a slow steady breath. They need to keep going.

“Don’t move,” he said touching the back of his gauntlet to Dismas’ chest.

The crusader turned to the others across the threshold and motioned to Musar. The two men stepped toward the entryway and Dismas was now eternally grateful they could be so light on their feet. He watched Musar turn and whisper something to Viara. She delicately unfastened a torch from his back and handed it to him. Viara struck a flintstone at the saturated cloth wrapped around the one end of the torch and as the flames burst forth, Musar dashed into the hallway, Reynauld in tow. The two men stood back to back, peering into the darkness around them. Viara and Dismas followed suit soon after with their respective weapons at the ready. They were alone in the dark and the silence pressing against their ears.

They stood again disjointed and looked between each other.

“Let’s press on, shall we?” Viara slowly whispered.

“Are you insane?” Dismas asked baffled. His mind, body and soul cried out to leave this place with as much haste as humanly possible. That arm wasn’t human, and he didn’t need it confirmed.

“Viara maybe- “Musar began but she quickly silenced him, snatching the torch from his hands.

“Were not leaving empty handed,” she said sharply. “We can make a left here, double back around and come to the exit from the other side” Viara finished more delicately than she began.

“Why, because you know which way whatever that was went?” he rebutted.

“We don’t need to know. If we stay quiet, we can safely gather some loot while making our way out” she said trying to convince herself rather than anyone else.

“You still want to raid the place with some creature roaming about? Please remember that it dragged that corpse away” Dismas whispered as strongly as he could.

“I see no reason why we can’t peak into some rooms while we take the long way back to leave.”

“Monsters lurking in the shadows seems like a reason to me. Which speaking of current ruins residence, I thought you said bandits were squatting in here.” Dismas tried to whisper.

“That looked like a bandit to me” she snarked back hooking an eyebrow.

“Fine smart ass, what the hell happened to this being a recon miss- “Dismas was abruptly interrupted.

“Enough of your fatuous prattle!” Reynauld tried to mute the bark as best he could. He stepped toward them and took the flame from Viara, her face appalled.

“We need to keep moving” Musar said as he closed the small circle that they created at the base of the torch held above them. It was the first time Dismas heard urgency in Musars voice, and it unsettled him.

“Which way did you say the map could take us around?” Reynauld looked to Viara.

“The left behind you” she answered, her arms crossed at her chest.

Reynauld turned to lead them on and was suddenly struck from one side. He flew off his feet back into the room, the torch falling to the ground before the remaining three, its light now cast upward and exposed a hideous beast. It stared down at them with huge, lidless eyes, white with no iris, no pupils. Could it see?

Viara leapt into the room after Reynauld, dodging a second swipe from the towering creature’s abnormally long, ape like arms. Musar stepped forward and planted his feet shoulder width apart, rooting himself to the spot. He bent his knees, lurched upward and slammed into the monster’s slacked jaw with a powerful uppercut. It stumbled backward, becoming semi shrouded in darkness. As it stepped back into the light’s periphery, Dismas was sick to behold large skulls slung across its chest like some profane string of pearls. His pistol trembled in his hand and his mouth went dry. The ghoul shook its head abruptly, trying to regain focus, its long, fanged mouth hung open and bloody. It arched its back, stretched its neck to its fullest extent and let out a horrifying hellish howl that reverberated and shook the very walls. Dismas had never heard such a sound, it was both a shrill screech and a deep bellow. The pair were paralyzed from horror.

Dismas’ body eclipsed his mind and he instinctually raised his gun and fired, the bullet logging into one side of the beast’s jaw. The gunshot bounced off the walls, combating the residual howl with its own vibrations. A second later, a dagger flew from within the room and pierced the beasts’ chest. Blood frothed pink in its mouth as it tried to cry out again. The monster swung wildly and Musar tackled Dismas out of harm’s way into the vacant room. The monstrous fiend stomped on the fallen torch in the hall, engulfing them in heavy darkness. It paused, framing itself in the doorway and all that shone now were the few candles burning behind the party, the feeble light blurring the ghoul's image, making it more fearsome wreathed in shadows.

It stepped inside and Reynauld moved first. He swung confidently and in perfect form. His strike was true, giving Musar and Dismas enough time to stand up. The highwayman moved backward a safe enough distance to reload while Viara moved forward and flung another dagger at their grotesque enemy. Reynauld absorbed a strike from above, forced to take a step back.

“COVERYOUREYES!!” Musar shouted from the other side of the room.

They quickly turned away as he pelted the hideous beast with a small bomb. It exploded in a blinding flash of light and stinging sulfur, crackling sparks swarmed about its head like furious wasps. It opened its jaw as wide as it could, cracking one side out of its joint and howled again. In the contained space, its vibrations bounced off the walls, cascading the sound over itself, each wall now howling at them independently. Reynauld knelt under the weight of sheer terror and clutched his chest, unable to catch his breath. Viara stumbled backward into Dismas, sending his pistol fumbling from his hands and she onto her backside.

It pulled a skull from its chest strap and threw it at Musar with terrifying speed. The skull collided with his midsection and he crumbled to his knees, gasping for air. Reynauld took another strike from above but, only half blocked it sent the crusader tripping backwards against the wall. Reynauld straightened himself on a wobbly knee and brandished his sword. Dismas lunged forward to interrupt the next blow, utilizing his stature to pierce upward directly into the monster’s armpit. The beast stumbled, dizzy from the strike giving Viara an opening to lunged next, her dagger sliding between two of its emaciated ribs. She leapt away from an attack in a burst of black smoke and with Viara no longer visible, it turned to Dismas, its jaw swinging out of joint. It struck him with a quick backhand but Dismas parried, slicing up the length of the things forearm.

It arched its back again and flexed its entire body. The howl rang out, multiplied again by the walls of the room. Viara dug the balls of her hands into her ears screaming, and Dismas started to hyperventilate as tears blurred his vison. They all shook from horror and silhouetted shadows moved like new bodies in the room from the trembling candlelight. The sound was otherworldly, the beasts mouth a portal to some pit in the deepest hell. The shaking floor sent Dismas tripping over his own feet trying to back away from the wailing monstrosity. Viara stood up, tears silently streaming down her cheeks, her face determined. She threw several daggers at the creature and each one dug deep into its grey flesh. It wasted no time in ripping another skull from its strap and hurled it at her. Viara turned and raised her shoulder to act as a shield against the vulgar projectile that burst into a small cloud of dust, coating half her face. She doubled over coughing, battling for breath.

The ghoul wretched up and thick strands of bloody membrane dripped down its broken jaw. It moved toward Dismas again, alien like arm raised high. Reynauld stepped out from the shadows of Dismas peripheral vision and stood squarely before the incoming fiend. He yanked a scroll from his belt and as it rolled open before him, beams of light burst forth. The paper seemed to be made of flames and its letters glowed white hot, its rays singeing the ghouls’ entire body with brilliant light, The flash lingered in the room a moment and irradiated the space, and even the candles were invigorated, burning brighter from the dazzling burst. The ghoul stumbled several steps backward, swinging wildly as smoke rose off its charring skin. Musar whipped his grappling hook chain and coiled it around the abominations shoulder and neck. He heaved with all his might and brought the monster down to one knee. The bounty hunter let his axe slide through his palm, catching it by the very tip between only two knuckles. He swung down at the beast in an exaggerated arch and reaching twice his arm’s length, his axeblade cleaving into the monsters’ shoulder, lodging itself into bone. The ghoul yowled in pain and shoulder checked Musar in his chest. The bounty hunter staggered to the wall, never surrendering his grip on the chain.

Reynauld ran up to the kneeling horror and slashed horizontally at its shoulder. The towering creature lurched forward on bent knee, its gapping maw biting down on Reynaud’s helmet. Dismas watched mortified as its broken jaw gripped the crusader by his head. Reynauld quickly unfastened himself from his helm and stumbled away. The helmet fell from the monster’s mouth and it reached for Reynaulds’ exposed neck with its free hand. Dismas frantically scanned the floor, spotting his pistol between him and the demon trying squeeze the crusader to death. With a graceful dash forward and a quick tumble, Dismas scooped up his gun and slid to his feet. He leveled himself with the kneeling fiend, now the same height and shot it point blank between the eyes and it swayed before sinking under its own dead weight.

They were each out of breath and barely made a sound, even the candlelight remained still. Viara moved over to Dismas and grabbed him by the wrist, tears had borne streaks in the dust that coated her face. Her lips parted as if to speak and she quickly sealed them, and took a deep breath only failing to speak again.

“I don’t know…” Dismas whispered, trying to keep his own voice steady. He knew she meant to ask what they all were thinking.

What the fuck is this thing?

They were still for a moment, each not wanting to look at the hideous thing they’d conquered. Dismas took some solace in that and sighed in relief. Nothing could explain this being, but they triumphed over it. The candles remained enkindled by Reynaud’s holy scroll and illuminated the room more than before. It was a comfort to be surrounded by such a resilient light even in the presence of such an unholy abomination.

“Is anyone injured?” Reynauld broke the silence as he fastened his helmet.

Dismas could see small dents in the metal and was glad the monsters jaw was broken before it tried to eat Reynaud’s head. If the nightmarish thing had all its strength behind the bite, he couldn’t imagine the scene he would have witnessed. For the first time, Dismas was glad for the crusader’s helmet.

As reality calibrated itself, the invigorated light brought the room into sharper focus. They looked around at the blood that had been splattered and splashed all about the field of battle. The felled beast took up more space, no longer cloaked by darkness, the room itself now visibly smaller without shadows adding facets of depth all over.

Dismas began to reload his pistol in a feeble attempt to divert the manic energy that surged through him. Relief and terror were bizarre to feel at once.

Reynauld stepped up to Viara as she wiped skull dust off her face. She put her hands up in surrender.

“Yes yes, we’re leaving. We most certainly are leaving,” Viara adjusted her hat whilst observing the devastation. The candles dimmed; the essence of the scrolls holy purpose succumbing to the crushing dark once more. Musar removed his grappling hook from the large carcass and secured it to his belt.

“Let’s move. If we’ve made our presence known, we can’t linger. Heaven only knows what else roosts here” Musar half whispered. He unfastened an torch from the rooms wall and ignited it with the candles at the altar. Dismas watched as he flexed his hand, adjusting his grip repeatedly around the torch. It was strange to see Musar anxious but he agreed that leaving was paramount to everything else in the world right now.

“Quickest is right back the way we came” Viara told the bounty hunter.

Musar didn’t wait for an exchange of any kind and made for the exit, Viara wasted no time in following him.

“Go. I’ll be behind you.” Reynauld said to Dismas as he motioned to the exit. Dismas didn’t hesitate and couldn’t deny it made him feel safe knowing Reynauld separated him from the ravenous clutching shadows of this place.

Musar was careful in his steps but quick with his pace. His urgency was palpable and Dismas feared what consequences they may suffer forsaking stealth for speed. Viara tried to interrupt his strides asking about the map but he simply grunted and continued to lead them.

He stopped suddenly, jumping backward. A clang and unsheathing of metal rang out as long slender spikes erupted from the ground. Dismas caught Viara by the elbow stabilizing her while Musar leaned against the wall, having lept away quick enough not to be impaled. His thick leather boot however was sliced clean along his calf and though the wound wasn’t deep, it was bleeding substantially. Viara sucked her teeth at him as if his wound somehow inconvenienced her more.

“Where the fuck did that come from?!” Musar breathed as aggressively as he could without shouting and immediately began to remove his boot. Dismas walked over to him having been designated to hold the bandages while Musar lowered himself to the floor and extended his leg out.

“Do you need help?” Dismas asked offering up the pristine roll of cloth.

“No thank you wasim” Musar spoke calmly, almost a purr as he took the bandages. Dismas didn’t understand what he said but decided not to question the man and let him tend to his injury. Either pain or fear appeared to have focused him and he wrapped up his calf with an efficient haste. Musar cautiously put his boot back on, wincing from behind his veil. Dismas instinctively went to help but Reynauld stepped in. He hoisted Musar to his feet and handed him the torch he had dropped.

“Slow down” Reynauld said, jabbing a finger into his chest. Viara interrupted Musar before he could mouth off.

“To hell with slowing down! This trap wasn’t here before because this isn’t the way we came in. This fool has us lost and I’m the idiot that gave him the map.” Viara walked over to him with her hand held out as Musar presented the map to her. She snatched it with an exaggerated swipe and turned her back to him to study it.

They had paused at an intersection a few feet beyond the trap that almost killed Musar. The path directly in front of them was blocked by an apparent cave in, the rubble was piled from floor to shattered ceiling. Viara looked from left to right at the two paths that remain clear of debris and took care to interpret the ancient parchment properly to avoid getting lost in the labyrinth of the ruins.

“Well, if we carry on this way,” she indicated left “it looks like there’s a courtyard we can cross to an exit on the other end of the ruins.”

“On the other end? As in the wrong end? We’d be outside but the ruins would still be between us and the road back” Dismas asked trying to remember the lay of the land.

“This is true but I’d rather a walk through the woods to the old road rather than traverse this place any longer than we have to” Viara said more disappointed than afraid.

They didn’t need to communicate any further; all questions and comments about the ruins and all therein would have to wait till much, much later. They didn’t have the supplies to linger and this place was far different than they originally thought. Escape and regroup became the implicit strategy.

Musar shoved off of his support boulder and they had barely left the crossroads when they heard an echo of wet bare feet slapping against stone. The bounty hunter drew the last torch and lit it by the flame of Reynaud’s, and jammed the lit torch into an elevated sconce, Reynauld following suit on the opposite wall. The light from both ends lit up their immediate space, setting a proverbial stage nd they readied their weapons.

Down the darkened tunnel a glimmer of light shone coming around the corner. The barer of the light came into some focus, showing a robbed woman, face covered from nose up. Dismas immediately noticed her helmet creating the same five spiked arch of Vaira’s family crest. Her mouth curved into a sick grimace like smile and she glided forward, no feet visible beyond the hem of her robes.

A man next to her appeared, scarcely clothed, crouched and bent forward rocking back and forth. Shaking hands clawed at a cut up and bleeding scalp, obvious that his hair had been pulled out and he the culprit. He sobbed as he picked scabs open and jabbered on under his breath. Before anyone could react, the strange woman bent down and hissed something at the tortured man. He cowered lower, slapping himself in the head harder and harder. He bit his lips bloody trying not to scream. She hissed louder in a strange language at the man and he yelped as if in pain, clawing at his forearms so hard they bled. The woman raised a crude scepter above her head and shadows erupted from the ground at his feet. He screamed until the veins in his neck threatened to burst, his eyes bulged and he began striking himself in the face. In an unnatural burst of speed, he ran down the hallway, stopping halfway toward the group and slammed his head against the wall repeatedly. He knelt and wept, shouting hoarsely in pain, the woman was still slowly floating toward them looking pleased.

Dismas made the mistake of making eye-contact with the mad-man. His bugged-out eyes welled with tears and he clawed at his cheeks, wailing with such inner force that blood vessels popped in his eyes and they bled. He stood up perfectly straight and pointed an outstretched arm at Dismas, eyes blackened and pouring blood. The psychotic man cried out in the same disturbing language as the foul woman and a whip like shadow lashed out from his arm.

It streaked through Dismas and there was a sudden quiet. He instantly started to feel the chill of snow on his neck and heard a woman screaming in the distance. He could see that carriage in his mind’s eyes. He stepped back trying to hold his ground against the vision, but the very walls writhed like black tentacles. Each time he blinked he saw more snow and the room phased into that night on the road so many years ago. Dismas shook the screaming images from his mind refusing to succumb to madness. He shot at the man, glad the pistols reverberance could silence his hallucinations. Dismas missed and started to reload. Viara swung at the jittering madman with her pickaxe over and over. His frightening mania fueled a sickening agility that started to agitate rather than scare her.

The hovering witch moved swiftly toward Musar as if carried on some wind. She raised her arm and a gust of black shadows surged at him like visible waves of force and broke across his body. Dismas watched him recoil and shudder on his newly injured leg. He laughed and shook the fear from his entire body like a dog shaking off rain. Musar charged roaring, snubbing the searing pain up his calf. She shouted back in her devil tongue and a slit tore in the very fabric of space before her. The pocket of reality dilated and a massive tentacle curled outward, pushing a stunned Musar onto his back.

The lunatic leapt into the center of the battle ground and wailed into the darkness, his shout bursting outward in a wave of doom. They each were weighed down by visions of the end times. They saw the world burning and heard the tortured cries of hundreds thundering in their ears. Cities crumbled and the street ran red with blood. Viara cried out as the occultist summoned another tentacle from the abyss, shoving her at the wall. Reynauld dashed forward to the screaming lunatic and bashed his skull with the pommel of his sword, stunning him silent, saving them from the apocalyptic nightmares.

Reynauld turned to the occultist and didn’t waste the chance. She opened her rotting mouth and shrieked a vile incantation at him

“BY THE LIGHT BE DAMNED!!” He bellowed over her voice.

The crusader launched himself forward and skewered the woman on his blade. He slid her off the sword and stomped down on her face several times, stuffing her final curse back into her crushed mouth. Dismas rushed over to the stunned lunatic and executed him with a clean shot.

The area was still again, the torch light dimming from each of the sconces and they tried to collect themselves. Viara was standing perfectly still, trying to catch her breath, her face had gone so pale Dismas swore she’d glow if the torches went out. The thief was suddenly close and gripped her forearm. She looked from the ceiling into his eyes, tears threatening to overflow and he bent down to pick up her hat.

“Put your hat on” he let his voice crack just a little. Viara brushed the hair from her face before securing her hat.

“Thank you Dismas” she said as cool as a cucumber. He adjusted her hat while she patted dust off his shoulders.

“You gonna…adjust me up too?” Musar said grabbing at himself, his laugh abruptly breaking into a cough.

“Get up” Reynauld growled as he pulled Musar off the wall. For a moment they had each-other by their respective collars, deadlocked.

Dismas rolled his eyes and tore one of the torches off the wall and without a word he began down the path he believed led to their salvation. Reynauld and Musar turned and watched him make his way, the light he held becoming dimmer with each step. Reynauld couldn't understand his rush of anger at the crude bounty hunters and understood less the image his mind currently held onto for hope. The cinnamon glow of Dismas eyes in that rooms’ candlelight, he now feared he would never be free of.

For by grace I have been saved through faith. By the light I incline my heart to your testimonies and not to selfish gain. Walk by the flame and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh.

You will not indulge.

You will not indulge.

You will not indulge.

Chapter Text

The party exited the woods that flanked the ruins relatively unscathed. They were surprised when greeted by a few of the more able-bodied residents of the hamlet waiting on the road back to town with horses and water. Viara expressed gratitude but scolded the young men. She asked that they remember, they are the future of the hamlet and that the road is far too dangerous for anyone just standing about waiting for a party that may not return. She sent them back with their few spoils and Musar as to not agitate his wound. The remaining three now walked at a brisker pace without their injured comrade, making the trip back a welcomed blur.

They paused at the hamlets center when they arrived, only the tavern and the blacksmiths forge still emanated light.

“Well I’m off to the barracks, Musar is staying there and I want to make sure he’s alright.” Viara tried to sound bright, “I’m certain we can agree that discussing the nights’ events can wait till we’ve had a good rest.”

Dismas could not agree more.

“I’ll say good night” Viara tipped her hat gingerly and walked off to the barracks as they called out their respective goodnights at her as she went.

Reynauld turned to face Dismas, the thief not yet facing him. He followed Dismas eyes up to the night sky and fully understood why he stood so captivated. The evening was so clear that star clusters glinted and glittered, the Milky Way a sparkling river of stars and smoke across the visible expanse. The hamlets fire light was drowned out by glowing blues and white, the galatea moon melding effortlessly with the severe navy of the night. But even the moon appeared meager against the limitless profanity of the stars.

They turned away from the heavens simultaneously. Dismas only just realized this was the first time he was alone with Reynauld and shoved his hands in his pockets, unsure.

“I’m not certain the time but I imagine its quite late.” Reynauld said, fighting the impulse to step toward him. He couldn't comprehend this gravity that surrounded Dismas and understood less his desire to succumb to it.

“Yea, I don’t really know how long we were in there” Dismas replied, a chill running up his spine at the mere mention of where they had been.

“Certainly not the simple task we expected” Reynauld shifted on his feet.

“I used to say nothing surprises me but now I’m worried I may have tested fate all these years sayin that” Dismas said chuckling perhaps more to himself than to the crusader.

Reynauld grinned like a fool behind his visor seeing and hearing Dismas laugh for the first time. The moonlight lit the mans’ eyes aglow, a stunning vermillion burning like a flame in the dark. Even Dismas’ skin took in the light from the stars and became ethereal, almost ghostly against the stark darkness of his clothing. Reynauld waged war against a singular thought as they stood awkwardly together; he’s beautiful.

Dismas too embraced the silent pause between them and stared. This faceless person not only fought beside him but protected him. Dismas is a stern believer that actions do indeed speak louder than words and in the case of Reynauld, he’s an armor-clad contradiction. He hadn’t said much to Dismas in general but the little he did express was either a tepid insult or he interrupted him just to dismiss him entirely. In the heat of battle though, they orbited each other effortlessly. Some quickened osmosis in the fervor of combat, brought them nearer and nearer each other at just the right time, each step kismet. Dismas resigned to not needing to see his face to feel endeared to him and he hated that.

Reynauld caught himself, almost muttering a verse almost aloud. It stung his mouth and a whisper grazed his ear, an echo of the many voices. He shuddered in his armor fittings and felt their weight for the first time all evening.

“Well…bedtime seems like the right time to me” Dismas mimicked shooting a pistol in each hand.

He broke the silence and regretted every syllable he had uttered. Reynauld chuckled heartily, genuinely amused and now heard only the soothing rustling of trees swaying in the wind. Dismas both summoned and banished the verses from his mind and what he loathed more was that this stranger, challenged his piety by simply existing near him.

“I should be to the abbey” Reynauld said it abruptly, surprising even himself.

“It’s kind of late for construction no?” Dismas asked puzzled.

“The prior has given me a spare room since the abbot and several of their number died. It helps me to focus staying there…it’s comforting” Reynauld seized the word ‘focus’ and took a deep breath.

“No yea I get it. Good to have a place for that in times like this. A person should keep things that comfort them close.” The melancholy in Dismas’ voice caught them both off-guard and he internally cringed at every word he spoke in the past three minutes. Reynauld again combated the innate gravity of this man and how he jeopardizes the obstinate inertia of his mighty principles. For the first time, after all he’d learned of himself on his travels through the east and across the continent, Reynauld once again stood on the bladed precipice of self-awareness. Would causality be his damnation or deliverance?

“Goodnight” Reynauld said first, he couldn’t bare anymore push and pull.

“Goodnight”. Dismas replied immediately, he couldn’t bare anymore looks from unseen eyes.

Once he locked his door, Dismas undressed, needing to shed everything connected to the evening. It was too late for a bath, so he was glad the porcelain amphora by the water basin was full. Dismas lit several candles and stood topless by the basin gently wiping down his arms and chest, only just then realizing how sore he actually was. He washed his face and retreated to his bed where he removed what was left of his attire. He didn’t need to fight back tears; he was too tired to cry. Tonight, made no sense in and out of the ruins and on top of all that, the suit of armor that keeps saving his life makes him act like a teenage fool.

Finger guns?

Dismas was mortified anew by the thought and buried his face in his pillows. Luckily, his brain and body were both so depleted that chaos and confusion couldn’t keep sleep at bay. His eyes began blinking in slow motion as he drifted off with the blurring candles still lit, delicate shimmering orbs floating in the distance. He would let them burn and gladly admit that after tonight, part of him was absolutely afraid of the dark. Their subdued radiance reminded him of the candles in the ruins and for a moment he felt fear but then remembered Reynauld. He was with him in that light and it gave him courage. As he began to accede to slumber, the image of a crusaders helm shining brilliantly, illuminating the darkness lingered amongst the flickering lights. Before the memory faded to black, Dismas swore he saw a glint of green and hopelessly grasped at his vision, knowing sleep would make him forget.

Dismas woke slowly and naturally. It was light out but heavily overcast and with no scent of rain coming, he didn’t mind the bit of gloom in the air. He was glad he wouldn’t have to be oppressed by a beating sun and instead held to the calm, comforting and still bosom that is the color gray. The sky was tufts and piles of pillowy ashen clouds that kept any possible indication of time a mystery. Dismas’ entire body was so contentedly in a state of torpor that he couldn’t care less what time of day it was.

What woke up with him however was a reel of the perils they faced the previous evening. Part of him was made tired again and he sighed. How and what would they have to overcome next? Before the fragile mental dam sleep had erected cracked and crumbled, he focused on taking on a far more soluble obstruction to his sanity, hunger. He rinsed his mouth with some gin from his flask, never wanting to offend, and strapped his wide waistbelt around him over his shirt taking a deep breath, it may as well be a corset he thought. He paused by his pistol and blade and decided to leave them and his coat behind. Once downstairs in the almost desolate tavern, he sat at the bar and asked only for water.

Dismas’ shoulder was gently tapped but he still flinched ever so slightly, the gesture plucking him from the whirlpool of scenes from last night that threated to pull him into some unfathomable depth of dread.

“Forgive me sir” a wizened man said, looking far too worried relative to the action he seeks forgiveness for.

“Not really been called that before.” Dismas said it more naturally than intentionally trying to ease the moment. The old man chuckled though it was saturated in anxiety.

“Can I help?” Dismas quickly added to avoid any type of awkwardness. It was far too early for him to have to socialize with anyone let alone this rickety stranger.

“Ah, it is not I that needs assistance. Her ladyship, the marchioness, has asked me to wake you. I’m glad to find I did not have to be such an inconvenience.” He smiled at Dismas far more relaxed. He could understand a provincial old man may be worried having to knock on the door of a sleeping criminal. That aside, Dismas didn’t understand him.

“The marchioness?” he asked puzzled.

“Yes, lady Viara.”

It’s too early for this

“Where is she friend?” Dismas wafted ambivalence and filed away ‘the marchioness’ for later.

“The sanitarium. Several doctors arrived this morning and one of them wore a plague mask as if we all are contagions of some sickness. I believe it unsettled the sisters.”

Dismas sighed trying not to ponder too much on what a plague mask is, it was clear he was about to find out. He put his cup down and the old man stepped to the side as Dismas rose from his stool. He was off put by the combination of fear and reverence this stranger so transparently felt. He was saddened by the behavior; he was here to help these people. Leaving the tip of that ice-burg alone, Dismas exited the tavern and made for the sanitarium up the road. He saw from his small distance away Viara standing amongst five others, the two other women amongst them were engrossed in a heated debate. Viara turned to Dismas’ approach.

“Good morning my love” she spoke softly trying not to interrupt the other two women. Her clothes were casual but still exceptionally fine in detail. As always, most of her fingers were adorned with bejeweled rings of all types and sizes, her hair up in a perfect bun.

“Morning…uh what’s going on?” Dismas asked nodding his chin up at the arguing couple.

“Well the sisters that run the sanitarium don’t seem to agree with the doctors I’ve summoned for the hamlet. Particularly the one woman amongst the four. Apparently, their treatments are far too modern for the sisters,” she said smirking, crossing her arms and taking in the scene. There stood the sister in question wearing her simple frock and dramatic cornett, looking stoned faced as she listened to the smaller woman speak.

“Amateur blood-letting would surely exsanguinate him!” she said at the ruthless sisters’ sever countenance.

“Amateur?!” the sister gasped at her. The smaller framed woman wore heavy dark green robes adorned with spiked shoulder guards Dismas thought strange for a doctor. Her hair fell slightly beyond her chin, as black as pitch and her skin a pale olive tone. She was delicately featured but her nose was strong and pronounced. He observed her profile as she spoke and would wager Mediterranean blood flowed in her veins, she was classically beautiful. He caught sight of a strange and unsettling mask hooked at her waist. It looked like the skull of a giant bird turned into a helmet and Dismas refused to ponder the function of its design.

“Yes! Amateur! I assure you he is most certainly poisoned and if an antivenom is not administered gradually, bloodletting alone won’t save him and in fact kill him.” The plague doctor piped rather than barked at the shocked sister.

“You’ve only just seen the patient and are challenging my techniques and authority?! You barge in with these pretenders and begin to dictate orders to the nurses?! My lady please, dispense with this pontificating fraud!” the sister finished as she turned to Viara. The plague doctors’ mouth was agape as she too turned to face their patron. Viara smirked impishly at them both, not at all hiding her amusement.

“Mother Superior please, her tonic worked to stabilize him, and I’d like to see if we can avoid draining Musar of his very life when a simple injection may be all he needs. We must all trust and learn in these new ways that are proving far more effective. I believe the good doctors’ regiment is what is best for him” Viara began far more diplomatically than she continued.

“I hope it is not vulgar in me to suggest that you overcome your bias and surmount your own ignorance. You were made chirurgeon by the grace of the late Lord Allard and now I mean for you to remain in the seat of that vocation. You will please work with and learn from our esteemed guests as I seek to gain knowledge with you, dear Mother. Will you not help me? I know not the people yet and need you.” Viara was well versed in the vagaries of language and tone, sour then sweet seems to be her gambit in getting what she wants. Her rank was apparently substantial and though her uncle wronged these people in some unknown ways, they still knelt to the gentry.

Dismas resented Viara a tiny bit and almost felt for the sisters as someone also in a position with little to no say in any current matter. What could the sisters do now? Challenge a marchioness with proper and lawful claim to this entire town and its occupants? She had inherited all the control and fear her uncle had over them, and Dismas was part of that fear by association. He felt the same tiny sadness now as he did with the panicky old man.

“Of course, my lady” the sister spoke through gritted teeth and silently seceded. She turned with a huff and stormed toward the sanitariums’ large oaken doors, leaving them wide open to mean the doctors could follow.

“Please accept my sincerest of apologies. The sisters here are set in their ways so I’m afraid colorful tonics and leeches are far too exotic for their delicate sensibilities. I can assure you that you have her cooperation. I can be quite…determined” Viara spoke only staring at the plague doctor and Dismas sighed, recognizing a familiar predatory hunger in her eyes. It was indeed too early for this.

“Please tend to Musar's wounds immediately and afterward we can discuss the economy of your medicine.” Viara said, the words silken and her wink playful.

“By your grace, my lady” the three men bowed slightly and before they glided away in their robes to the sanitarium, the plague doctor handed them a substantially sized syringe and a jar of leeches. She remained outside for the moment.

Now facing them, Dismas was surprised to see that framed by her thick onyx hair, her large doe shaped eyes were colored a vibrant lapis. Her mouth was dainty and plump, her somewhat masculine brow crowned her face statuesque. Her eyes like oceans narrowed at them confused and Viara the aristocrat swooped in.

“I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced” Viara said.

“No, we have not, Marchioness.” Dismas interrupted, emphasizing her title. Viara laughed and smiled a toothy smile, squeezing his hand tightly. He titled his head and grinned, the gesture lukewarm and put on.

“Yes, I am indeed the Marchioness Allard Beauffant, heiress to the étoile jumelle estate” she said allowing her laugh to taper off by the end of her self-introduction. Dismas had no interest in where she ranked amongst the court and was far more concerned with how much Viara has been omitting along with their comrades’ current state of health. He was certain she’d argue that she never technically lied to him and she would technically be right. Viara stepped closer to the doctor and took her hand gently into her own.

“And you are?” her question a breathless whisper. The small framed woman shook Viara's hand rigorously, oblivious to her smoldering gaze.

“Hello! I am Doctor Perimede Augeas! Well mostly doctor…almost doctor. I am a surgeon and scientist. Well more so alchemist…biochemist, both really. I try not to split hairs when it comes to titles,” she seemed to be discussing the matter more to herself.

“I suppose a doctor has more living patients than dead ones. Though experiments still work on deceased bodies, given of course their freshness. I mean flesh is flesh whether the brains synapses can initiate motor function or cognizance am I right” Perimede held her belly, her laugh booming loudly, snorting once or twice as she finished. Dismas turned to Viara, confused that she herself was also laughing. He couldn’t follow the scene before him.

“The human body is just squishy carbon matter held together by just as squishy skin.” she added casually giving her own cheek an aggressive tug, distorting her jovial smirk. Dismas and Viara both simply smiled, utterly bewildered.

“Well Doctor Augeas I’d like to thank you for coming, a physician as brilliant as yourself must be terribly busy.” Viara still held the doctor's hand in hers, the latter still oblivious.

“I’m happy to help! I’m also quite excited to have living breathing patients to experiment and treat.” Dismas squinted at her hoping he hadn’t heard the word experiment.

“Ah yes, and you have my sincerest thanks for helping Musar,” Viara said, both of her hands cradling the doctor's one.

“Speaking of Musar- “Dismas began, unnoticed.

“Pray, where did you study to have become such an exceptional doctor of medicine?” Viara continued as if Dismas wasn't standing next to her.

“Uh…a university?” Perimede stated as a question, another thing for Dismas hoped he'd heard wrong.

“Ah, of course I’m sure it is one of great prestige to have nurtured such natural skill and talent” Viara cooed at her. Perimede looked confused now, not sure how to respond whilst Viara gazed steadily through her.

“No need to be humble, especially when I’m sure the patriarchy that unjustly rules the scholastics and sciences would often turn their noses up at an exemplary female mind,” she said letting Perimedes’ hands go and taking a step back to blatantly take her in from head to toe. Dismas sighed.

“Hey Perimede, ya wanna give us a moment?” he asked abruptly, pulling Viara closer by the elbow.

“As amusing as it is to see you’ve taken a bizarre page from Musar's book, can you explain what’s happened to him please” he asked more concerned than he thought he’d be about the bounty hunter.

“Yes, of course” she said slightly turning toward Perimede to include her though her tone was less flirtatious.

“I went to check up on him this morning and found him laying there, barely conscious with a fever. His wound looked as if something had opened it through the night” Viara began. Perimede stepped closer to them and Dismas figured the doctor should probably hear about this if she hadn’t already.

“At some point in the night the wound became extremely painful he told me, so he applied a salve he uses for smaller injuries when traveling. The doctors believe it’s the only thing that slowed…what was the word?” she turned to Perimede

“Sepsis” Perimede answered flatly.

“Mmm yes sepsis, thank you.” Viara gave her a smile as if she’d won a prize.

“Sepsis?” Dismas simply asked.

“His blood has been poisoned by infection. Given when he was wounded, I’m surprised he hasn’t gone it septic shock and died” Perimede stated casually as if over tea. Dismas sighed though still confused by the diagnosis.

“Doctor Perimede believes that the trap that injured him was coated in some…bacteria?” Viara asked referring again to the doctor.

“A venom. A proteolytic venom…I think. Could be a cytotoxic venom. Anyway! His blood is clotting where it shouldn’t, but his wound also won’t close which is most likely causing a coagulation cascade in his blood, not to mention possible thrombosis in superficial veins.” Viara seemed entranced and Dismas grew considerably more confused by it all. Perimede didn’t stop.

“It quite fascinating that within him the blood clots irregularly but the exterior laceration wont clot at all leaving him bleeding! Multiple secretions coated whatever trap he sprung. Toxins with such effects are commonly found in snakes and spiders and other various venomous creatures. The medicinal properties when harvesting these venoms is absolutely remarkable, you can treat various ailments with proper doses of some augmented venom or another. Sometimes even just the venom, though that’s a more ethically ambiguous trial and error process,” she giggled and snorted, pausing for a breath.

“Just like the syringe I gave my colleague is filled with a type of antivenom…not just venom…” Perimede spoke the last sentence to herself and trailed off, looking into the distance. She pulled another syringe from within her robes and studied it carefully for a moment before her eyes went wide. Dismas and Viara exchanged alarmed glances.

“Please excuse me!” Perimede shrieked, bowed mechanically and ran into the sanitarium.

Dismas and Viara turned to each other, obviously feeling different things. He was lost entirely on the subject of the good doctor Perimede Augeas and she was plainly focused on it. She read Dismas’ face and raised her hands to her chest in surrender.

“I know, I know…I will explain, come.” She tried to soothe him, but he felt patronized.

“Thank you, MARCHOINESS.”

“Hey, I didn’t think I needed to elaborate on that!” she protested as she led him back toward the tavern.

He was surprised to see Viaras’ room was quite plain with sleek black leather cases of all sizes in neat piles scattered about. He wasn’t sure what he expected from an inn room above a practical den of sin, marchioness or not. An imposing closet, Dismas had no idea how was brought through the doorways, he assumed encased the aristocrat's wardrobe. Her desk was strewn with various documents and stationery along with several of bottles of spirits clustered on flat surfaces. He almost missed the small open weapons case of daggers and other strange things he couldn’t recognize.

“Please sit” Viara motioned to the bed, littered with extra pillows and a heavy fur blanket. Hesat at the foot of the bed as Viara turned her desk chair around to sit facing him. She opened her mouth to speak but paused having remembered something.

Viara pulled a small metallic case from her boot and as she opened it Dismas smelled an all too familiar scent; rich soil and chocolate, all shadowed by some delicate citrus wafted forth. She brought one of the three thinly rolled cigarettes from the case to her mouth, smiling wide at him. She reached behind her for a lit candle on the desk and ignited its tip. Viara fed the glowing ember with a deep inhale and held it in her lungs for a moment. Dismas was pleasantly surprised and welcomed the ease it would bring amongst this incoming onslaught of unknown revelations. She coughed slightly as she handed it to him and along with his own deep exhale of the burning herb, the room filled exponentially with a delicate smoke that hovered in veils.

“Much better no?” Viara whispered and Dismas simply nodded at her, as euphoria gently wafted over him.

“Suckle on that,” Viara said winking and handing it back to at him. He gladly took care to slowly enjoy such a consoling indulgence. She sat back and pulled the intricate pin from her tightly bound updo, letting her golden hair fall gently around her face and took a deep breath.

“The letter my uncle sent me was mostly vague, but he sounded crazed and fearful. Spoke of digging beneath the manor for some ‘fabulous and unnamable power’ as he so described it. He studied the arcane and all sorts of esotericism, gathering relics and artifacts, all being used to delve deeper into the earth below the manor. Besides rousing some great evil we need more knowledge on, he polluted the land around us with his malfeasance and abuse.” Viara stopped and motioned to Dismas for a pass, he of course obliged. She took a long drag, savoring it.

The Dismas of a few days ago would hear the word arcane and only remember times he robbed folk after charming them to come close, claiming he could read their palm. Dismas’ present self, however, wouldn’t know how to discuss the matter having seen the bizarre and unnatural things in the ruins the prior evening. What else could explain such a creature other than some occult malignancy ripped from the void and made flesh? What beings existed that could pull at the ether and bend it to their will? His fear of these things was joined by the unexpected memory of Reynauld's scroll. The paper almost flame itself singed and stunned their unearthly enemy in a dazzling light, as if written upon it was the zealous accusation of a god. Was that not arcane? Magic? Dismas opted for compliance in this matter and figured if the arcane works with both hands, light and dark, then it was a weapon they themselves can wield. He tucked it all away and focused as Viara continued.

“The only other information that I have so far is the journal we fortunately found in the ruins.” The two paused, staring at one another for a moment, both remembering the ruins and the fear therein. They didn’t say, but both could still hear that unholy howl.

“It doesn’t speak on anything about the ruins though” she said, answering the question so evident on Dismas’ face. He was torn between glad to not have to discuss it and terrified that they have no explanation for what went on. Viara snuffed out the cigarette after Dismas’ silent decline of it. They were sufficiently inebriated enough to carry on with Viaras testimony of her uncles’ malign shenanigans.

“The entries we obtained tell how he complied a great many rare and elusive tomes on herbs and alchemy, studying them in depth. I can’t imagine why but some woman kept calling upon him at the manor and soon he discovered she had an aptitude for horticulture and other arcane practices. He invited her to stay and they…studied. My uncle was known to be quite a letch, so I’m surprised it was so professional a relationship. Unfortunately, she taught him things and together they cultivated and brewed all manner of creations. According to his accounts she soon began to use her own herbs and concoctions for self-experimentation, becoming wild and grotesque. So he banished her to the weald.”

Viara stood up and filled two silver goblets with water from an ornate jug on her bedside table. They drank silently for a moment, glad for the refreshing chill of the liquid amongst the smoke they enveloped themselves in. She sat back down and gazed into the depths of her goblet and Dismas could see her mind churning, searching for the right words to carry on.

“Some time after she’d gone, the townsfolk told me a disease crept through the wood and claimed many of them. It didn’t just kill the people though; it grew inside them. The mind only died, the body became malformed and mostly fungus and mildew, shrooms and shit growing from within. Apparently the sentient mold took over and made them beasts, frantic and mindless. Most ran off back to the weald, but the poor townsfolk didn’t know better and the few they killed here infected more, spreading via spores. So many of the sanitarium staff breathed it in.” Viara leaned back in her chair. Dismas was indeed glad for the sedation prior to the conversation at hand. Still, it seemed difficult for her to continue and Dismas couldn’t blame her.

“My uncles’ solution was to burn anything with any residual fungus on it. He had thugs play police and rounded up the doctors and few nurses that governed the sanitarium who were infected and brought them to the manor. They were never seen again but the bastard came out of his makeshift quarantine with a vaccine of some kind. He managed to keep the weald from growing over and blanketing the hamlet entirely.”

“And the issue at hand now?” Dismas asked.

“Apparently my uncles estranged shamaness still infests the weald and now its cursed, and its unnatural roots are spreading, and this hag is to blame. The people say she roused the forest itself with brews and ritual to create more monstrosities out of caught bandits and travelers. The townsfolk have seen and killed spiders the size of dogs coming from the woods. This bitch is also part of our trading route problem. She moves the very trees with her magics.”

“She alters the road?” Dismas pepped up.

“Yup. I think she’s hired some bandits too, either that or she started to encroach on their turf and now and they’re just stuck.”

He wasn’t sure how to react or how to be properly concerned. she sounded ridiculous. Men and women becoming plant monsters and infecting others? After the ruins he wouldn’t dream of ruling anything out as impossible and understood that you could never be totally prepared for the unknown. This he learned in a way he would never have imagined down in the ruins of the ancient estate. The information Viara had on the weald he didn’t fully comprehend, he couldn’t. How could one believe such things without proof, even with accounts of an entire town. That was precisely what terrified him, the proof he would need he'd obtain first hand.

“I take it we’re to stop this hag and her mushroom monsters?”

“Yes,” Viara laughed her response and soon they cackled in unison.

“There it is, we’re just goin in. Maybe she’ll cook something up for us with some of these extraordinary herbs of hers.” He was genuinely calm but still aware that there were new unimaginable hazards to this new task. Viara's laughter faded to giggles and they both sat in a heavy silence.

“This why you summoned the doctors?” Dismas asked, remembering the earlier entourage.

“No actually. They should have been here three days ago. When my letters went out, I didn’t have any idea what was going on in the weald, I hadn’t found those journals yet. It’s not just lucky they came when they did but that adorable woman, I believe knows a great deal more than just a doctors’ usual knowledge.” Viara noticeably smiled at her recollection of Perimede and Dismas noticeably rolled his eyes. She laughed and kicked at his chair and in this moment, he was glad at how casual an approach she has to most things, including potential death by toadstool.

“This means were going to need some help” Dismas stated with genuine concern.

“Indeed! I’ve already cast a few nets, posted very particular bounties in some more unscrupulous places, called on old connections to make new connections, you know, crime” she said smirking at him.

“And Reynauld?” Dismas asked as immediately as the thought entered his mind. With obvious exaggerated mock in her mannerism, she rolled her eyes and threw her head back dramatically. They laughed when Dismas’ kick missed her chair.

“He knows where and what we have to do but doesn’t care about the details of my uncles’ sins, just how to absolve them.”

A sudden knock at the door.

“Viara? May I come in?” a deep, muffled voice asked from beyond the door.

“Fabulous, speak of the devil” Viara said, giving Dismas a knowing glance, the thief's mind going blank.

“Come in” she sang it more than said it.

The door opened and a tall muscular man stepped into the room. Dismas was flabbergasted to behold the beautiful green-eyed stranger from the baths. Reynauld wasn’t covered in sweat and soot this time and rendered Dismas just as speechless as before. His soft brown hair and black beard were tidy, his tunic clean and crisp. In this state, his emerald eyes were all the more stunning. He was taken back by how wide and muscular he was out of his armor, as if his plates and fittings were too small. Dismas hadn’t the slightest idea as to how to feel now that these dots connected, aside from lightheaded. Seeing his face for the first time made everything that he had experienced with Reynauld replay all over in an instant.

Dismas stood up quickly as if to say, ‘It’s you!?’ but instead just stood there, silent, looking like a surprised idiot. Viara's social etiquette reflex kicked in and she also stood up but not sure why. She looked from between them as the pause filled the room in a miasma of tension. Reynauld was as surprised as Dismas looked, more so than ever now that he wasn’t behind a suit of armor and completely exposed. He felt foolish for being so shocked, thinking how obvious it is that at some point he would be in Dismas’ presence without his helmet. The obvious however didn’t soothe his nerves and Reynauld went suddenly cold. Dismas could see him now, see where his eyes go and where they linger, see how his lips part when he watches him. how he salivates when his copper colored eyes catch the light and glitter.

Chapter Text

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude” Reynauld said far less shocked than he was. Dismas was the only and the last person he wanted to see so soon after such a sleepless night. In an exercise of futility, he chanted many verses well into the evening but could not free himself from the grip of his craving. All he could think of was Dismas; the image of him lit up by the moon in his bed, lit up by the candlelight of the ruins, at peace in bed and terrified in the darkness. The thought of going back to his room was a suffocating haze that filled every space in the abbey, that he tried to find respite in as he restlessly roamed the halls the night prior. Even now, he wanted to move toward him, simply to be nearer. Reynauld, against every beat in his chest, kept his eyes on Viara.

“Not at all, come in.” Viara glided back into her chair reading the room. Dismas was still standing, staring at Reynauld as Reynauld stared at Viara. The marchioness chose to play sleuth, feigning a debutants naivety.

“My goodness Dismas, you’ve turned into a pillar of salt. Surely you recognize the hamlets resident crusader” she said reclining, crossing her arms and legs.

“Unless of course…you’ve only just now met…face to literal face?” she asked Dismas, curving one eyebrow as wickedly as her smirk.

“NO” Dismas said louder than he meant to. “No...it is not the first time.”

“Oh?” she said pausing, knowing that the pressure of silence and stares can keep one talking.

“We came across each other in the baths” Dismas said with far more assurance than he had.

“Ah…the baths.” she said, both eyebrows now arched, threatening to disappear into her hairline. Dismas took a breath through his nose knowing she would not relent.

“He was there for the baths” Dismas stated, thinking again he sufficiently defended this hill he was about to die on.

“HE was and you were…?” she asked, looking between them. Dismas sucked his teeth as silently as he could.

“Leaving” Dismas answered sternly turning to Viara.

“Oh, that reminds me, I believe you have my shirt” Reynauld had finally chimed in and Dismas wished he hadn’t, seeing Viaras’ pupils dilate.

“His shirt?” Viara asked tilting her head slightly.

“I only took it on accident when he handed me my clothes.”

“Handed you your clothes?” she tilted her head to the other side.

“Just my coat, I was fully dressed” he huffed walking to the nearby window, imagining leaping from it the only appropriate resolution to the conversation. Dismas glanced at Reynauld and swore he heard himself blush, the way ones’ ears hum during a yawn. He remained silent, refusing to give Viara another inch to stretch into a mile.

“I’m sorry Reynauld, you needed something?” Viara asked, sated. Reynauld stepped forward and right into the flow of this new dialogue, thanking the Light.

“Yes, the doctors have finished with Musar and other than observation they said he’ll just need rest.”

“Wonderful” she said smiling wide at the news.

“I’m glad he’ll make it” Dismas said, sincerely glad the man wasn’t going to die. He had his gaze still focused on the world beyond the room, missing the glance from Reynauld that Viara hadn’t. She smirked at the momentary look that Reynauld unknowingly let linger.

“Yes well, that aside the issue now is lodging” Reynauld straightened his posture, standing at full attention.

“What state are the barracks in?” Viara asked the knight.

“Musar claimed the only intact cot amongst the rubble there and currently we haven’t the means to restore the barracks into a suitable living space.”

“Not with that crazed woman in the weald wreaking havoc on the roads” Viara complained, bringing a finger to her lips in contemplation.

“She’s halted most of the hamlets construction since supplies are only trickling through, leaving the only available and most suitable place for the doctors being the sanitarium. Another point regarding the road is there’s no way of knowing if any other recruits have tried to get to us. Given that one of us lay wounded already, this does not bode well for our numbers in general. If our arrival has stirred this hag then it seems she means to cut us off from anything that seeks to come here. I believe she needs be dealt with sooner rather than later.”

“I’m not sure whether to be irritated or impressed by your initiative Reynauld” Viara said smiling as Dismas laughed out the window.

“With all due respect, my Lady, you asked me to help organize certain tasks.” Reynauld would have straightened up even more so if he could. Viara sighed at the truth, she indeed offered him a commander type position to help manage reconstruction efforts.

“Too true my dear Reynauld, too true. You have my thanks. We can discuss the weald this evening but first I must show our guests to the sanitarium properly and mend some fences while I’m at it” Viara said about to stand up.

“I’m not sure that specific task should be handled by you” Reynauld spoke with a cool certainty. Indignation flashed across Viaras face for an instant as she gnawed on his words.

“Yea, sounded like a rough morning for the sisters. Perimede seems like she needs help communicating with living people AND you did defend the doctors” Dismas added as he moved from the window to sit back down. Viara smiled at the doctors’ mention.

“Musar was dying, I couldn’t uphold the time-consuming formalities of social etiquette for the sake of the sisters and their sensibilities, he needed immediate attention. I believe, with appropriate pleasantries and grace, I can help recreate their initial meeting and give birth to a fresh first impression” Viara said with the drama of an artist describing their next masterpiece.

“I’m pretty sure that fresh first impression ship's sailed” Dismas almost whispered to boost the sarcasm.

“Thank you Dismas” Viara said flatly at him as he shrugged and crossed his arms at her. She reached for the candle, and inhaled deeply from the cigarettes reignited herb.

“I cannot help but understand the abbess’ position” Reynauld was trying to sound as impartial as possible, leaning away from the plume of smoke that billowed slowly from Viaras’ puckered lips.

“Oh, Reynauld please, don’t side with her on this” Viara pleaded as she slouched forward, passing the burning herb to Dismas. He stared at Reynauld has he took a deep drag, wondering how the pious man would react but the crusader kept his eyes on Viara.

“You know I’m not on her side. The doctors’ methods are superior, that’s just fact. Her intransigence stems from her belief that this knowledge is an unholy and abominable craft from some evil origin.”

“Well, my uncle wasn’t exactly gentle when presenting the people to ‘new ways’” Viara sighed.

“I mean, they’ve never left this place, anything strange or new from the outside world is enough to frighten them. Their lives have been about survival for so long…I’d fight to keep any semblance of peace I found in this place too” Dismas said with an empathy that permeated the space, his face more melancholy and his eyes farther away than he knew, lost in the tranquility of the indulgent herb.

He himself was a strange outside thing and the apprehension it bore into the townsfolk made him sadder than anything else. Dismas took a deep breath, not knowing how to carry such an unfamiliar weight, trying to plunge it into the depths of his psyche. He couldn’t escape however, the virgin desire to do some good in this life, especially since his current line of work isn’t prone to bestowing an excess of longevity. The others stared at him in his distant contemplation, Viara pouting with wide glassy eyes as Reynauld stood transfixed. Dismas inhaled deeply from the burning plant and paper, holding it out to the marchioness unaware of the effect his words had on them.

“Perhaps a more unpretentious and eloquent gentility is needed here” Reynauld offered lightly, tearing his eyes away from Dismas.

“I honestly couldn’t care less about how this woman feels” she looked at Reynauld blankly and Dismas laughed into his hand while Viara tried to contain her own giggling behind tightly pursed lips. Reynauld remained statuesque before them, unmoved.

“Decisions must be made” the towering knight stated.

“Ok. You do it. Who better to prepare the sanitarium for our guests than a knight with holy purpose? Surely that would soothe her nerves since I refuse to argue with a nun, let alone give her a choice in case she’s offended. Why not bring the prior along, he can bless the rooms” Viara smiled wide at Reynauld.

“I’m certain my presence wouldn’t make a difference. She probably believes me corrupted by sheer association” Reynauld said motioning to the two seated before him. Viara scoffed a laugh, her mouth agape.

“Ok, hurtful” Dismas chuckled heartily, only half surprised at Reynauld's words.

“As much as I appreciate the candor, I’m not sure what you mean Reynauld” her mouth less open than before but her face still amusedly stunned.

“I mean that she’s seen our sort before. Along with whatever cruelty your uncle personally perpetrated upon these people, she’d assume me some fraud with a cross on his chest, another thug with a sword.”

“Maybe that magic scroll of yours you could help her see you’re not just some goon, showing her that the higher power she believes in is actually real” Dismas heard himself and worried he was far more barbed than he intended.

“Actually real?” Reynauld asked, choosing to ignore ‘magic scroll’.

“Come on, don’t catch me out. How often can you witness your faith performing some miraculous feat? Things like that scroll and other mystical whatnots, are fueled with will and belief. You filled up that room in the ruins with light after searing a monsters’ flesh, all with a roll of parchment.”

Dismas never thought much about the spiritual until the evening prior when he felt for the first time, the unseen vibrational force of an individuals purpose manifested in this physical plane, and the sheer will power that drove Reynauld's attack of scorching light. Even the bleeding madman and his frenzied primal desperation gave him power that he pitted against their minds, trying to rip at their souls, while the occultists incantations moved shadows like water and tore open the very fabric of space. Dismas wondered if in such scenarios, would one’s inherent virtues be emboldened or would the darkness within consume you?

“That scroll is not some magic trick to impress or repulse the sisters of the sanitarium, it can only be used against the evil and unholy” Reynauld lied. He didn’t know he was going to use the scroll that night because he wasn’t sure how to use it to begin with.

All he knew was that he felt no malevolence from this item he was gifted long ago on mount Cadmus. The first and only time he was able to use this blank and blessed parchment was to protect Dismas. Reynauld called out to the Flame for strength many times throughout all his travels and had never felt inspired to even consider the scroll let alone execute a feat of some holy thaumaturgy through it. Reynauld felt almost violated at being examined with such precision but mostly felt charmed by Dismas’ testimony of subtle admiration. Reynauld averted his eyes from Dismas' mouth and neck, blinking the images away from the forefront of his minds’ eye, suppressing the forbidden heat that began to course through him. He struggled desperately to ignore that Dismas was the enkindling for his burst of supernatural vigor in the ruins.

“Yes yes, that’s all well and good, use any scroll you like, just alert the sanitarium that I’m forcing new residents upon them. I have the doctors to confer with.” Viara spoke to her reflection in the small vanity mirror on her desk, meticulously putting her hair back up into a delicate bun, secured with a far simpler hair pin than the last.

“You mean doctor” Dismas said emphasizing the words singular tense.

“Pick one” she said cheerily, unfastening one more button of her elegant shirt, her eyes never leaving the mirror while she fussed over herself. Reynauld audibly sighed and Dismas couldn’t help but smile at him. Viara broke their momentary eye contact strolling between them to the door.

“If you’ll excuse me there’s business to be made and guests to entertain” she said motioning an arm toward the exit, signaling them to leave. All three exited and Viara locked the door behind her.

“Don’t forget to give Reynauld back his shirt, his room's right over there” she said pointing in the direction of Dismas’ room the entire time she sauntered away. The thief glared at the back of her as she glided down the stairs to the tavern. They stood frozen on the gallery, eyes never sure where to go.

“Sorry bout the shirt, didn’t know it was yours. I’ll be right back with it.” Dismas walked away toward his room before Reynauld could respond. He moved so quick that the crusader barely heard the lock, the key, or the door make a sound. Being impressed by such a surreptitious skill was ridiculous to Reynauld given Dismas’ history as a wanted criminal but like most of what plagues him these last three days, it was entirely Dismas fault.

“Here you go” said the swift thief that had come back just as soon as he left. Reynauld took the still filthy but neatly folded shirt from his outstretched hand, the distance between them awkward. Dismas was determined to preserve his state of serenity but more so was too inebriated to attempt any type of conversation especially with this man and his gorgeous face.

“Well I’m off to find something to eat. Or maybe I'm just off” Dismas chuckled at himself while Reynauld stood unamused, his gaze fixed downward at the shirt in his hand. Before the silence bore into either of them Dismas cleared his throat and made his way to the tavern below. Reynauld stood on the gallery with only himself, regretting his mention of the shirt, realizing that this small imagined link to Dismas was now severed.

Dismas ate an early dinner in a solitary corner of the tavern, a perfectly obscured enough post to observe the patrons and their infrequent comings and goings. After he’d requested a meal, he tried and failed to strike a conversation with the barkeep Bastien. His name was all Dismas could drag out of him, since he was plainly bothered by any and all social interaction. He knew he wasn’t making much progress with the bar maiden either, thanking her maybe louder than necessary for anything she did for him. After an unknown length of time he reclined in his seat, his belly pleasantly full and warm.

Not before long did his marchioness keeper waltzed into the tavern, the curious doctor Perimede in tow. The latter of the two women appeared pleasantly confused and largely misplaced. After a brief scan Viara spied Dismas at his tucked away table and made her way toward him, guiding the doctor to move on ahead of her.

“Hello flower” Viara smiled wide as she arrived at his table.

“Love” Dismas said his hello softly, sated and still dazed.

“You remember doctor Perimede” she said motioning to the doctor and swiftly beckoning her to the chair she had pulled out.

“Sure do, hello Perimede” he smiled at the fair woman now across from him. Suddenly in a jab like motion she thrust her hand at him from across the table.

“Nice to officially meet you Dismas” Perimede smiled wide. Dismas couldn't help but chuckle as the doctor vigorously shook his hand. Viara sat beside her, observing like a proud mother, Perimede appearing pleased with herself and the interaction.

“Bastien” Viara said just loud enough over her shoulder.

“M’lady?” the brusque barkeep responded from the nearest point of the bar.

“Two ales and a wine. MY wine, not his late lordships” she said turning her full attention back to the table.

“And how are things at the sanitarium?” Dismas asked looking between the two women. Viara paused in her response as their drinks were gently placed among them.

“I’m sure it’s going swimmingly” she said lifting her wine to Perimede who in turn lifted her pint of ale and pushed harder than normal at Viaras glass. The marchioness was swift enough to move with the exuberant cheers from the doctor, not spilling a drop of wine. Viara and Dismas shared an amused glace as they gently rapped their cups together in the more customarily gentle fashion.

“How was your rude dinner you ate without inviting anyone else?” Viara asked, obviously amused and Dismas laughed, the two still silly.

“It was delicious” he defended, only half lying. It was decent relative to how he usually eats, and from what he expected when seeing the hamlet.

“Is it rude? I quite like sitting alone with a meal here and there” Perimede chimed in after another hefty swing from her glass.

“Thank you Perimede” Dismas said reclining again, his face smug. Viara narrowed her eyes at him briefly before turning to Perimede.

“Would you join me for supper my dear?” Viara asked the slender doctor with smoldering eyes.

“Of course! Dismas would you like to eat again but with us?” she asked smiling wide, Viara's gaze lost on her.

“I would love to” Dismas said to Perimede, feeling the marchioness glowering at him.

“Perhaps we should ask Reynauld before he has a rude dinner alone as well?” Perimede said to Viara who loaded the ammo she just gave her. She turned slowly to Dismas.

“That’s right! Reynauld should absolutely join us for supper” she said, a fiendish grin spreading across her face.

“I’m sure he’s finished with the sanitarium by now and in need of sustenance” Perimede added spritely.

“Dismas why don’t you go and fetch Reynauld and we can all have a lovely meal together” Viara said. “That way we can discuss tomorrows excursion since we’ll be leaving quite early” she injected quickly, seeing Dismas about to rebut.

The two women smiled at him from across the table, each with infinitely different meanings. He knew he wouldn’t win on this especially if the pretense of the gathering was meant for official business. He didnt know which was more terrible, going to fetch Reynauld or having to sit down and discuss what hellish landscape they'd be delving into next. He stood up to leave and took a long swig from his glass and just as he looked up from it, he watched Reynauld's towering figure enter the tavern.

“Found him” Dismas said pointing at Reynauld and sitting down immediately, glad he was spared searching for him. Viara smiled and waved at the crusader, turning to grimace at a grinning and relieved highwayman. Reynauld greeted Bastien with a handshake and by name as he made his way to the three of them. His presence and the space he took up in the room was prominent and powerful.

“Good evening everyone” the crusader spoke softly in the quiet hum of the tavern, looming over the table. The sky could be seen blushing dusk from the windows behind Reynauld and Dismas noticed he, again, had no idea the time of day. Times’ constructs behave more like suggestions rather than laws here and it unsettled his mind and spirit.

“Good evening Reynauld, please sit” Viara said motioning to the seat next to Dismas, who stared vacantly at her, tight lipped. Reynauld said a small hello at him as he sat and Dismas nodded in kind, burying his face in his drink, both to hide and become inebriated as soon as possible.

“Bastien a glass of wat- “Viara tried to say at the bar.

“Cider” Reynauld finished for her.

“Glad you could join us” she smiled and winked at him

“I enjoy good company with a good meal.” Reynauld said jovially, a tone Dismas hadn’t heard from Reynauld let alone accompanied by such a dashing smile and he couldn’t stand it being so stunned by it. Even Viara stalled, momentarily charmed by the knight's unfamiliar glamour.

“Hear hear” Perimede exclaimed, almost startling Reynauld's cider out of the barmaids hand.

“And how are the new residents of the Sanitarium?” she asked nonchalantly. Reynauld took a swig before answering and Dismas hated the tiny puff of foam that got stuck in his mustache.

“Settled in relatively easily I must say. One of your number, doctor Malcom, shared a tome of medical theories written by a saint that I believe they all found remarkable. They were engrossed in conversation so the prior and I left since the rooms were divvied.

“Thank you Reynauld and yes, he is the more eccentric of our small group, studies the abstract properties of elements and science” Perimede giggled and snorted at the mention of her peer. Dismas and Viara exchanged a smiling glance hearing Perimede accuse someone of being more eccentric than she.

“Well that’s all music to my ears. I knew you’d be successful” Viara said holding her glass up to no one in particular and emptying it in one gulp.

“No you didn’t” Reynauld chuckled at her and Dismas giggled into his cup, spilling just a tiny bit of ale. The four of them shared a laugh that pleasantly lingered around them.

Once their meal had come and gone, Dismas noticed a shift in Viaras face as she emptied another glass and knew she had chosen her moment.

“Now my dear friends, we have affairs that need attention, namely the weald” Viara spoke softly, leaning in toward the center of the table, each of them mimicking her just enough to avoid being a blatant huddle.

"It has become a real problem for supplies" Reynauld mentioned.

“And I've given it much thought besides setting the lot of it on fire, liberating the weald from within is obviously the best way to approach our supply problem“ Viara began.

“Wait, did you genuinely consider just burning the whole forest down?” Dismas asked.

“Well obviously it's far less effort than exploring it but it’s not the most practical solution” Viara defended.

“I guess that’s one way to put it” Dismas said more amused than surprised she'd have opted to burn it all.

“Oh no, to lose all those specimens” Perimede turned to say it to Viara, her face imploring her.

“We are not burning down the weald” Reynauld said sternly, trying to lay the topic to rest.

“Certainly not” Viara cooed at Perimede, placing her hand over the doctors for a moment before slowly sliding it off, not breaking eye contact.

“Great! I must learn more about this genus of fungi” Perimede said, slapping Viara's hand twice and pulling a small jar of powdery mushrooms from amongst the folds of her dark robes. She placed it near the center of the table and Viara immediately swiped it away and out of sight onto her own lap.

“My dear, no visual aid needed, not here” Viara smiled wide at the doctor as she passed it back to her from beneath the table. “But please, tell them what you’ve told me” she said gently to Perimede who smiled wide, as if never having been asked to keep talking.

“Yes, well you see there was another member of my group, Pascal. On our way here, we had stopped on the road for only a moments rest before he was set upon by some crawling mass of fungi” as Perimede went on, her face softened from its tight smile to quiet reflection.

“It clutched at the hem of his robes and pulled with more strength than something that size ought to have. It then suddenly shook violently, and dust and spores spit up from cracks and crevices amongst its entire body” Perimede paused and took a swig of her ale, her face turning whiter before their eyes.

“While he was in a cloud of it and the thing somehow pulled him to his knees and took his mask off...just took it right off, I couldn’t see how. It kept shaking and by then he was covered, inside and out, choking and seizing.” Perimede emptied her drink.

“He tried to fight the spasms and with his very hands tore at the creature clutching to him, easily ripping toadstools and shrooms from its mass. But it overtook him and we backed away with the cloud of spores and mold still engulfing them. I tried to stun them both with a flash bomb, but they only fell over and started wrestling on the ground. I tried again with an acid from a small explosive and it worked at stopping the grapple…but.” Perimede trailed off and took a deep breath as her audience held theirs.

“The small crawling creature had scurried off into the trees leaving Pascal, his seizures growing increasingly more vicious. His skin had begun to bubble and burst with puss, things like veins slithered under his skin. When his body went still, his sternum cracked and his chest cavity broke open to a bloom of various fungi that spread over his body with their exponential growth. When they stopped expanding, the entire bouquette fell over limp and wilted. I cut off and jarred a few specimens for study of course” she finished her sorry tale with a chuckle, tapping what sounded like several other small jars tied to her waist.

“…and?” Dismas asked, still holding his breath.

“Oh, then we left” Peimede said, casually sipping her ale. Dismas leaned back in his chair, exhaling his lungs flat, watching Reynauld drag his large hand down his face from forehead to chin.

“Have you been able to discern what they may be?” Reynauld asked.

“I can only guess that it's indeed fungal and has a drive to self replicate, spores are almost always used to propagate a species. Oh and this species is entirely unknown. Nothing I'm aware of is this sentient or violent for that matter. We have absolutely no idea what these things are” she said, more excited and not at all concerned.

“Great story Peri” Dismas facetiously praised Perimede, chugging the rest of his drink. He had hoped she’d have had some other information instead of only confirming that some vile perversion of nature awaits them in the weald. He was glad however, that the monstrosity may not be a total shock to the eyes now with this fresh account.

“ I like that! Peri!” Perimede said cheerily and rosy cheeked, the birth of her nickname apparently the take away in all this.

“Thank you for the insight my dear. Now since we’re all abreast…we leave in the morning” Viara tried to sound as pleasant as possible.

“And the plan of action?” Reynauld asked.

“I don’t believe we’d find much by way of loot in these woods, so I want to go in there to find out what’s actually happening and kill anything in our way. We need to make the roads safe for trade and travel if we want to continue anything.” Her words were final whether she meant them to be or not, there was simply nothing more to consider.

“We should leave before first light. The sun may flood the lower forest before it rises and becomes blocked out by the wealds dense canopy” Reynauld suggested as their first steps.

“I agree” Viara said, Dismas and Perimede nodding in accord with the plan.

“I’ll arrange for necessary supplies to be ready before departure” Reynauld said with the distinct discipline of a soldier.

Dismas woke to Bastien's husky voice calling out to him after several strong knocks at his door. He responded to the man but heard him already down the hall outside Viara's room, apologizing to the marchioness for his intrusion, though his intrusion was no doubt at her behest. Dismas dressed immediately lest any pause risk him falling back into the warm comfort of his bed. The prior evening was uneventful and consisted mostly of Perimede describing her time at university, dissecting a dead professor, leaving said university, stealing corpses for the sake of scientific experimentation and burning down a laboratory she’d broken into to steal from. All in the name of science.

He and Viara emerged from their rooms simultaneously, puffy faced and nodding their hellos to one another, it was too early for words. Once outside their yawns were stifled by shivers, the air still gripped by the icy fist of the dying night, clinging to the sky as the horizon began to devour it. Perimede and Reynauld were already outside the tavern and Dismas noticed the crusader holding his helmet to his side and noticeably straightened up at their approach.

“Good morning” he said to Dismas first.

“Morning” Dismas replied timidly. The thief stared at the crusader while he addressed Viara about their supplies.

In this time of light and no light, the strange moment before dawn, when all the world is caught in a zone of night and day fused, Reynauld's eyes were alien. Their color shifted from the seductive ethereal blue reflection of the morphing heavens above to the emerald glint of his natural eyes, even more alive in this peculiar light. The breathing glow and color change of them shone like a predatory trait meant to dizzy and dazzle prey. Dismas couldn’t help but stare, wanting to remain fixed in this space between day and night so long as Reynauld's incandescent eyes would hold him there.

“Off we go!” Perimede clapped Dismas hard on the shoulder. “Time to cultivate knowledge and specimens from eerily self-aware fungi!” she finished, poking the crusaders metal belly. Reynauld fastened his helmet and Dismas pulled up his scarf, turning to observe the silhouetted woods beyond the edge of the hamlet. No detail could be discerned from this distance and the shadowed weald now resembled a monstrous being having fallen across the land and they would soon be traversing its back.

Chapter Text

The first and foremost thing that one would be behooved to acknowledge when simply nearing upon the shadow of the weald, is its odor. The second and if not graver side effect the weald inflicts is the taste of it. As it singes past the nasal cavity it falls heavily on the back of ones tongue, putrid and acidic. Dismas grimaced and almost gagged underneath his scarf, having always been sensitive to the deception of taste that smell imposes. He turned to see Viara, her face twisted into a scowl that mimicked his own beneath the scarlet fabric that provided little defense against the foul wreaking stench.

“What is it?” Perimede inquired, looking between the two faces contorted with disgust.

“You don’t smell that?” Viara asked Perimede, jealous that she either didn’t smell it or it simply didn’t bother her. Perimede grabbed her mask by its beak and lifted it delicately to only expose her face from chin to nose.

“Oh dear” she chuckled after taking in a deep breath and setting her mask properly back on her face.

“So that mask completely blocks out this stench?” Dismas asked, also envious of how unaffected she is.

“Not entirely but it’s stuffed with mint, rue and lavender” Perimede explained as if it were common knowledge.

“Oh my god that’s why you smell so good” Viara breathed aloud what most certainly would have been a silent thought for anyone else. Dismas laughed louder than appropriate given their location, which Reynauld made clear as he sucked his teeth audibly through his metal visor.

“Prepare yourselves” the crusader whispered as he drew a torch and ignited its hessian tip. His theory of the hours of sunrise being able to illuminate their path were proven false in the here and now as the sky above was so heavily overcast one could confuse dawn for dusk and visa versa.

Light could barely be seen through any part of the wood, its depth an unfathomable and living darkness, a sentient thing that threatened to inhabit every corner of the visible land before them. Dismas stared into the limitless expanse of trees and exotically alien flora and felt a sick and strange beckoning from this gigantic living mass. Each vine, leaf and root an extension of some singular consciousness, each thing craving the same thing, at the same time, all tied to the one source. The weald outnumbered them in every conceivable way and Dismas already began to combat the fear this entire forest bore within him, terrified that they’ve been beaten before they even began.

Their first steps amongst the trees unsettled them, their footfalls barely making a sound muffled against mosses and soft, living or rotting plant species. Gnarled and twisted roots were sewn about the forest floor, barbed and bloated. Dismas didn’t stare too long at any one thing, each appearing to swell as if breathing with lungs, writhing with an unknown flowing lifeblood or some invasive arcane force that bent these once living things to its will. The atmosphere was infected with an odd latent malignancy.

Dismas remained by Reynauld as to guide the knight with his raptor keen eyes, scouting for a potential path or trail to follow which became surprisingly easier the deeper they delved. Perimede followed at the rear with Viara, attempting to sketch some mapping of the weald for future campaigns.

At first Dismas felt the observation of a more visible lane would be welcomed, easing his fear of being completely lost, but the way began to appear not entirely wild and even recently used. Slowly they each noticed strange tracks on the widening road, considerable in breadth. The length between said tracks added another layer of trepidant curiosity; what manner of cargo needs be carried by a thing with such irregularly large dimensions? Reynauld paused, holding the torch slightly higher and toward the tree line, the distance created between the flame and floor intentional. He crouched, his focus on something in the middle of the road the rest could not see.

“Gun powder” he said, gently raking several fingers through the barely visible black dust. Reynauld rose and began to scan the distance before them, trying to find any other evidence to formulate an idea of what lurks along this deep path so recently traversed.

“Could just be from a pistol maybe?” Dismas suggested.

“There’s some more along the track, but I see no footsteps or hoof prints” Reynauld said stepping slightly ahead.

Dismas aimed his gaze at the ground and though the torch light was not completely near him, the shadow it created helped in the confirmation of his earlier fears. He watched on as a footprint in the soft dirt, began to disappear before his very eyes. He was transfixed as the easily recognizable shape slowly inflated until smooth and nonexistent. Merely inches away he then watched a small animal skull of some kind began to sink slowly beneath the mossy dirt, completely vanishing, the ground looking as if it hadn't been disturbed. He rose and decided to remain silent on the matter, not wanting his own confusion and fear infecting the others.

“Oh, this is quite strange everyone, I believe I’ve found a tombstone.” Perimede had taken several steps away from the party, pointing at a space amongst the trees. Viara, the closest to the doctor, gingerly bounded to her position.

“Yup, I know a grave when I see one” the grave digging marchioness fondly mused.

The fallen over tombstone was a thick grey marble cross, cracked and forgotten, half eaten by the seemingly inert ground. Reynauld joined them with the torch, further revealing the humble burial mound and after a slight pause between them, he stepped through the party and handed Perimede the light. Reynauld knelt at the tombstone and raised his visor.

“Flame, grant to them eternal rest, let light perpetual shine upon them and illuminate their way to everlasting divine solace, held forever by the Flame.” Reynauld remained in his position for a moment, his companions silent, touched by the gesture to honor the dead that have been desecrated by the corrupted woodland.

Viara motioned to Perimede for the torch and walked a few paces further from the group.

“By the Light” she whispered into the challenging darkness. The torch now shone upon a small row of alike gravestones, neglected and half swallowed. They had no idea what to make of this new addition to the already bizarre terrain.

“Has this place not always been here?” Reynauld asked Viara.

“The forest or the graves?” Dismas questioned.

“I haven’t the slightest idea. I have maps of the general area that I’ve studied but nothing ever suggested a cemetery was here, nor have any of the townsfolk ever mentioned it.” She answered, her face concentrated on the memory of said maps.

“I suppose this place could be much older than many may remember” Perimede offered to the brainstorming.

“I don’t mean to sound callous, but I don’t think this should be our main concern” Dismas said, growing more tense by the minute. The longer they stood still, the more he could see everything around them almost twist in slow, purposeful movements. He tried to remain calm, blaming the shadows for making him see the bark of trees shift as if uncomfortable and mushrooms leaning toward him. Dismas was caught off guard at how quickly he became unsettled, telling himself it was all just a trick of the light.

“I agree. Let’s step out of the trees and follow those tracks” Viara glided over the many thorny roots that snaked along their feet. They each emerged onto the path and carried on, Reynauld once more in possession of the torch, leading them forward. They walked on feeling no breeze or wind, and yet the torch sputtered and flared, the thick air threatening to smother the flame.

As the light from the torch dimmed and dimmed, everything slowly began turning grey, blurring Dismas’ vision. The trees appeared wet in the dying light and he could make out thin streaks of black tar-like fluid pouring slowly from the bark, the semi darkness suddenly highlighting such a feature. Dismas turned away from the bleeding trees, repeating loudly in his mind ‘Its resin and trees do that’, trying to drown out the hisses and whispers coming from the plant life that surrounded them on all sides. He wiped the perspiration from his brow and monitored his breathing with steady inhales and exhales, eyes fixed on the shining metal of the crusader that leads him. There was no awkward affection in his focus of Reynauld as his mind raced, trying to focus on anything other than the threatening sentience of this place.

“Are you well?” Perimede asked Dismas quietly though abruptly beside him, causing the man to flinch and recoil.

“For fucks sake woman are you trying to give me a heart attack?” the startled highwayman rasped at Perimede, trying to contain his shout. She remained motionless by his side while Reynauld and Viara busied themselves with a rotted tree stump some feet behind her. Dismas hadn’t noticed how they came to this pause nor when the fresh torch that Perimede now held above the two of them was lit.

“You appear flushed and are perspiring” she tilted her head left and right trying to observe Dismas at all angles, her mask adding an avian aspect to her and the mannerisms of her inspection. Perimede thrust the torch at him to hold and removed her glove to check his temperature.

“No signs of fever. Are you anxious perhaps?” she said placing two fingers at his neck, groping for his pulse. Dismas swatted at her prying hands several times, trying to thwart her gentle persistence.

“Will you- “Dismas said, still swatting.

“Will you please steady that light” Viara called from her position with Reynauld on the ground, uprooting the decaying stump having noticed a large coffer stowed away within it. It was a good amount of gold and glittering gemstones they were glad to have shattered the spade for. The two excavators divvied up the haul between two packs to spread the weight and turned to the others who’d paused their delicate grapple, standing awkwardly close.

“Dismas is swe- “Perimede started to say.

“Dismas is sweating because this infernal place sucks in more air than we do and blocks out the damn sky while it’s at it” said the frustrated highwayman, rustling his coat off his neck once or twice in a feeble attempt to waft air down his back. Mention of the skies absence sat on Dismas’ chest, the heaviness threatening to occupy more and more space in his lung with each breath. He felt winded even though their pace since entering the weald was just only slightly faster than sneak.

“Can we keep moving please?” Dismas asked audibly annoyed. He wanted to appear agitated rather than fearful more so to convince himself that the stinking unassuming forest was simply that and not a maleficent semi rotten entity actively trying to smother him. They carried on, wading through the encroaching miasmic atmosphere of the weald.

Dismas focused on his steps, one foot in front of the other, one long breath followed by another. After an unspecified bout of time spent focusing on the steadying monotony of ones’ breath, he jumped to attention having walked right into the back of the crusader. Reynauld turned, the light crash not having shifted him from his position in the slightest.

“Dismas, pay attention” the knight whispered. Dismas batted his eyes clear and heard himself whisper a small apology to the back of the knights’ head.

Against his better judgment Dismas looked up from his boots to peek at his surroundings and was repulsed. The trees were overgrown with large fungi and mushrooms that slowly flexed, spread out along the length of the tree trunk while smaller ones in tight bunches seeped dark orange infectious vapor that slithered slowly to the forest floor. He blinked hard feeling his eyes becoming increasingly drier but each time he did so, the colors around him would shift. Some plant life appeared to blacken to a smokey pitch while others became iridescent and glowing.

Dismas was both disgusted and bewitched by the lights of these bizarre florae, their unearthly bio-luminescence was threatening even in its stillness. Their glowing points turned slowly toward him, the predatory aim evoking primal fears, and yet he remained transfixed. His breath began to quicken, his skin went cold and his heart was beating in his ears.

He could hear his party discuss something but Dismas couldn’t turn away from the rows of sentinels amongst the dead and dying shrubbery. He began to believe it, they were shifting, each tree his eyes revisited were closer than before, each tree swelling and writhing. His eyes darted between them, almost bulging from concentration, determined to catch them moving and call out, prove that he wasn’t going mad where he stood. Dismas took a step forward determined to expose his enemy and immediately froze when a hand gripped his arm like a vice.

“Dismas. DISMAS” Perimede said, her grip intensifying to inflict intentional pain that he didn’t expect from the soft hands that had earlier tried to poke at his throat. Dismas blinked and squinted at the blinding closeness of the torch, another deliberate action from the doctor.

“Don’t pay attention to the glow and don’t get close to the vapor these shrooms are seeping out all over this place. At first, I thought it was just sap, especially given the humidity but it moved like a gas when I went to gather a specimen. Generally, such things one can assume are toxic and maybe lethal especially since the ventilation here is so poor. It might even be flammable. Though I wouldn’t worry too much about any type of contamination or infection…or burns? In general, it would be best to stay away from the trees and their big mushrooms. Don’t want to end up like Pascal now” she snorted and laughed. Dismas was so lightheaded it was a surprise he could follow any of the barrage of information she’d riddled him with.

“How do you know about this place?” Dismas asked, choosing to not yet question how her comrade’s untimely and graphic death was funny.

“I don’t, not really, just some educated guesses. Smells and colors are especially useful indicators of a things chemical composition and once you kind of know what a thing is you can guess how it works and interacts with its environment and other…things. Then of course I was able to observe how this all has been affecting you, which thank you, we collected valuable data here” she said pointing at her temple.

“Observing? So, you were just watching me slip and figured let’s see how it plays out?” Dismas asked incredulously and annoyed.

“You didn’t appear to be in any distress or at risk of and don’t worry, I wasn’t about to let you near those trees never fear. This place isn’t right...Fascinating.” Perimede said excitedly, slowly turning to look at everything that surrounded them. This abnormal world that sluggishly swallows up anything foreign isn’t right at all. Dismas scanned their periphery and found no Viara or Reynauld, a fresh surge of anxiety.

“They went to scout the edges of the clearing just ahead” she explained to him before the question could breach his alarmed expression. Her words didn’t soothe him but rather shifted his energy to the idea of a clearing. His mind was filled with thoughts of the sky, the chilling winds rushing down from elevated altitudes, even hoping for rain from the mornings’ steel colored heavens he couldn't see.

“There’s a clearing ahead?” he did nothing to hide the twinge of mania in his voice. Dismas’ lungs tightened, feeling a desperate need to see beyond the wealds dense canopy, to be exposed to the open upper cosmos and breathe properly again.

“Yes, just there” Perimede pointed with her masks' beak rather than her hand. Dismas turned without another word and moved toward the indicated point. He rushed to the clearing and immediately turned his gaze heavenward once breaking the perimeter.

The bland dreary sky was none of those things to him. The steely pillowy tufts that blanketed the heavens above him were a consoling mental respite amongst the surrounding rot and his chest expanded with a rush of cool air. Dismas felt grounded and in the present once more, the familiar sky a reminder that he hadn’t been transported to some alien planet on the fringes of the beyond. Dismas could feel gravity properly and felt physically reconnected to the earth beneath his feet, rooting him in this reality. He closed his eyes against a gentle breeze that chilled his wet neck and forehead, the shivers it produced unable to hinder the relief this tiny ephemeral blessing granted.

Dismas stood facing upward for a moment, savoring the icy graze from above until a familiar hooded form crept into his peripheral vision.

“Peri I swear to god” he said through gritted teeth, staring from the corner of his eye at her slowly approaching hand. Perimede straightened from her creeping hunched position, from half behind Dismas.

“Aw, you showed platonic affection using the informal abbreviation of my name. Thank you…D” she emphasized the letter and clapped a hand firmly on Dismas shoulder, pointlessly winking at him from behind her mask. Dismas closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.

Viara swooped in and gracefully replaced Perimede's hand with her own on Dismas’ shoulder.

“Don’t pet the cat dear. SO, the camp is empty and was made so in rather a fabulous hurry, I say let’s pack up what we can and get back since now we know how best to leave” Viara said winking as she unfurled a map she had found.

“Agreed. Coming upon this place abandoned is far too serendipitous to not take advantage” Reynauld said rejoining the group at the camps edge.

“It’s quite a decent size and I don’t want to know why they left so much behind, so let’s be quick about this shall we?” she sounded excited but a nervous urgency persisted. Viara moved swiftly and began to poke around and in the few tents, pilfering anything that could fetch a decent price or be of some use. The others separated, no plan need be discussed, raid the place. Dismas stood in the center of the camp and took in their surroundings, the break in the canopy not only purified the atmosphere but refreshed the senses.

The camp appeared to be meant for operations rather than lodging in the wilderness. There were piles of supplies strewn about, several marquee tents dotted the edge and desks of various crafting sat unorganized here and there. Weapons and empty braziers were oddly scattered about though nothing indicated combat and the braziers were snuffed out with sand and water hastily.

“We must not linger” Reynauld spoke at a cautious volume, still enough for them all to hear him as they spread throughout the encampment. “The ground just under that tent bares the same track marks as we had seen on the road. Its trail leads to the trees but there is no visible path beyond the edge, just this damned vegetation” he crept quietly through the camp.

“I smell gunpowder” Dismas said from the camps apex, following his nose and turning completely around to find Perimede.

“That’s because there are barrels of it here. Looks like somethings been stepping in it too, it’s all over” Perimede told them, motioning to some type of strange and crude smithy like crafting table.

“I guess these must be the cannonballs they shot us off the road with.” Reynauld was still near the tracks he’d discovered with one foot propped up on a large and unrefined metal sphere of primitive looking construction. It too was almost entirely sunk into the ground.

“Great, now they’re making them explosive” Dismas commented, leaning over a work bench where a large metal sphere split in two was semi hollowed out. He looked around and knew it wasn’t much of a stretch to guess that with all the gunpowder kegs and no campfire, it was exactly what the bandits were trying to create.

“If a cannon is lumbering about, lets hope it makes enough noise so we could hear it coming” he said while stuffing a satchel full of valuables and supplies that Viara had brought to him to help pack away.

“Are we not still in search of this hag woman?” Perimede asked whilst collecting fungal chunks strewn about the camp and scraping powders from surfaces into small glass vials.

“Technically yes, but this deliciously empty camp has far too much capital wasting away, it's a sin really” Viara casually answered mid swing of her pickaxe, breaking open a large chest.

“And knowledge” Reynauld added as he too unfurled another map. “We can study these and any logs, come back later far more prepared and now knowing not only a definite way out, but how to navigate whilst within. I also have thoughts concerning our two enemies perhaps being one. If she IS bending the very trees to her will, she may also be doing it for them” the crusader said as he studied the map of the weald he’d discovered.

“What for?” Dismas asked, dusting off a peculiar residue that seemed to cling whenever he touched or brushed against something.

“Who knows what one could possibly need from the other” Viara questioned the bizarre affiliation her two foes may have.

“Her motives I’m unsure of but an alliance of some kind with whomever controls these bandits would explain how they’ve been traversing through these shifting roads and paths” Reynauld said as he tucked away the map and pulled his visor down.

“While dragging a cannon” Perimede chimed in as she carefully tried to pull bark from a nearby tree and stumbled backward when it suddenly tore off.

“I say if we’ve packed enough to not be over encumbered let’s wrap up this lovely stroll into the weald and discuss all this back at the estate” Viara suggested.

“Aye” Reynauld nodded and hoisted the largest of the packs over his shoulder.

The rest started to collect the smaller loads of loot until a sudden rustle from an unknown part of the camps perimeter rooted them to the spot. They slowly closed ranks toward the center of the basecamp until back to back, trying to have eyes on all sides of them. The waiting in ominous silence created a sense of déjà vu in Dismas.

“I never want to step foot in another forest with you ever again” Dismas whispered to his left at Viara, each drawing their weapons. Viara scoffed.

The rustling became more consistent, allowing them to home in on the sounds position as Reynauld readied his blade.

They each held their breath, overwhelmed by an unsettling combination of awe and fear. The indescribable thing that stepped out from the trees was human in aspect, but they could not fathom what perversion of nature could befall a man to become this. The thing was tall and bipedal, a half human half fungal abomonation, stumbling over the bramble roots, slowly toward the group. They knew at least it could not see them as no face and more to the point, no head was present. From where a clavicle and neck should sit on a torso was the base of a giant mushroom and scattered along the length of it in various degrees of size and number, similar fungi were sprouting. The largest one, acting as a head to the vulgar and bloated human body, flexed slowly, sensing for them.

The group remained stationary, only turning their heads to follow it fumble slowly right passed them. Its deformed, sponge-like body was bloated at the belly while its rib cage sank, gaunt and half exposed. The grotesque creature dragged its feet, and they couldn’t understand what sense it could be using to guide itself forward. The party shifted their feet to continue to watch it and it instantly froze. Its foot jerked in their direction and its shoulders slowly followed suit, the giant mushroom that replaced where a human head should sit was now ‘facing’ them. Without warning and with unsettling agility, it lunged at them, arms groping blindly.

They leapt away from its clumsy swings effortlessly and managed to separate into pairs on either side of it. Once more, each of them and their enemy stood perfectly still and silent. Perimede and Dismas looked passed the monster to Reynauld and Viara, neither sure if making any type of noise may trigger it in some way. Before Reynauld could provoke it Perimede cried out.

“Viara!” she shouted and threw a small sphere at a second humanoid fungal monster that appeared from behind Viara. The orb burst on contact at the feet of the creature and it was engulfed in a plume of hissing noxious mist that dissipated quickly but left behind a foamy and viscous acid. It burned the porous skin of the beast and it emitted a bizarre muffled sound as the blight steadily ate away at its flesh.

They watched it trip as its legs burned apart, brutalized by the corrosive bomb Perimede had struck it with. It’s dense sponge like body shook and seized, creating again that profane vibration as if something flapped or huffed from inside it and then a moan like the ringing of thick leather.

Perimede cried out a second time, her calling to Viara having provoked the foul beast they had originally surrounded, immediately drawing its attention once she had thrown her bomb. Viara and Reynauld turned to see Perimede stumble backward by the swipe. Dismas lunged, digging his blade into the things chest and immediately recoiled, clumsily tripping backward, the feel of it made his skin crawl, nothing like the delicate human flesh he’s accustomed to knifing. Dismas grimaced at the sensation in his hand and found his enemy far more disgusting than horrifying now up close. He drew his pistol and fired directly at large mushroom for a head, and the things reaction appalled them. The sound was reminiscent of a barely audible scream through a pillow and the pain that translated caused each to take a step back, heavily disturbed as it crumbled to its knees. Reynauld and Viara left the other fungi abomination to melt away and joined Dismas.

“Pascal?!” Perimede shouted, having stepped a few feet away with her back to them, addressing some new bestial thing crawling on the ground.

Dismas could barely make out what it was before Reynauld pushed passed him to tackle a third newly appeared bipedal fungal monster from the trees. He struggled to load his gun watching Reynauld and Viara combatting the new stumbling brute and trying to get a better view of who Perimede was speaking to. The thing she walked toward was the contorted shape of a man, bent over backward, wrists and ankles broken at unnatural angles like some vulgar miming of a spider. The torso was cracked open and a large putrid bouquet of alien fungi with one large shroom at its center had blossomed from within. What shook Dismas most was that the macabre and gruesome head ornament of this foul crawling horror was an actual head and most certainly Perimedes’ associate Pascals’.

“Amazing! Have you managed to remain self-aware at all?!” she asked drawing closer to the beast, producing a pad of paper and a small stick of graphite, now even further from Dismas and the rest.

“Peri!” Dismas shouted, his hands stumbling to reload, trying not to take his eyes from Perimedes’ excited walk towards this bizarre danger.

Perimede furiously sketched and scribble as the monster began to shudder, the large mushroom on its back vibrating until from its spongy form a small slender fungus shot forth and collided with Perimedes’ shoulder. The rotted projectile popped, wet and dusty on her robes leaving a residual stain.

“Perimede!” Viara and Dismas shouted in unison as the doctor stumbled backward, Viara leaving Reynauld for the beast that was Pascal. She vaulted forward in leaps and jogs, a graceful predatory feline gait that closed the space between she and her enemy quickly. It leapt to the side avoiding her lunge and they stood before each other, Viara disgusted and horrified now spotting its gruesome features. It began to twitch and shake grotesquely and Viara recognized the tell of an incoming attack. She and the horrendous creeping fungi leapt backward away from one another, Viara in a burst of black smoke and the beast in a putrid cloud of some unknow noxious gas.

The marchioness landed near Perimede and when the smoke dissipated she saw next to the evil thing, yet another fungal abnormality step forward from beyond the camps’ edge.

As Reynauld combatted his own hominid shroom beast, it stopped abruptly, and the large mushroom seated as the things head contracted and inflated several times as if sensing some chemical change to the air. The newly arrived monster did the same and in unison, from opposite sides of the camp, ran awkwardly at Perimede.

Without hesitation Viara ran at the pair of enemies immediately before her, and as she raised a dagger to throw, the contorted form of Pascal fired another dart like fungus and struck Viaras thigh. The rancid fungal dart popped, leaving a spot of acid that had quickly burned through her leather trousers and started to eat away at her skin. She faltered mid swing, the dagger missing the lumbering monster, still running at them. Perimede ducked under Dismas’ gunshot to the creatures’ ankle, giving her enough time to reach the kneeling grave robber. Perimede uncorked a small glass bottle and immediately sloshed an iridescent green liquid over Viaras wound. She winced sharply and muffled her shout behind gritted teeth. She attempted to wipe the fluid away but Perimede caught Viaras palm in hers and squeezed their interlaced fingers against the painful sizzle of Viara's flesh.

The fungal humanoid that had escaped from Reynauld reached the focus of its frenzied state and struck Perimede as she helped Viara to her feet, the two women falling over from the blow. Perimede rolled away clutching her struck bicep as Dismas stepped forward to the beast before it could swing at the crouched marchioness and sliced across its belly. Puss and ichor spat out from the visceral laceration and Dismas gagged from the virulent stench, leaving him open to a second strike. He raised an elbow at the incoming blow, and it connected clumsily, the vile hybrid monstrosity now exposed to a parrying slice from the agile thief. It buckled from the attacks and Viara finished it off with a heavily arched swing from her pickaxe. Reynauld regrouped and moved to the fungal thing Dismas had shot to its knees and hacked chunks off the upper torso as it fell limp.

Viara stood unsteadily trying to desensitize herself to the humming sting of her freshly cured wound and moved in on the remaining broken figure of mushroom Pascal with Reynauld. As the enemy readied itself to attack, Dismas shot at it from afar as cover for Viara and Reynaulds advance but from his pistols hammer strike, a slash of sparks and a ribbon of fire shot outward in an arch before dissipating in an instant. Dismas recoiled from the pistols surprising outburst but his grip on it remained.

The moment slowed for Perimede as soon as her mind questioned the strange way the pistol reacted. In a flash of insight time froze and Perimede saw the answer come together before her. The simple chemical reaction she recognized had far graver implications given the circumstances. She tore her mask off and practically dove at Dismas.

“Don’t shoot that!!” Perimede cried out, grabbing at Dismas’ hands in a mad attempt to stop him from shooting his freshly loaded pistol.

“Are you insane?!” Dismas shouted as the doctor almost bowled them both over. He was again shocked and impressed at the strength of her grip. Perimede pulled Dismas close, her eyes sparkled prismatic, every shade of blue streaking behind her pupils like the strips of a planetary storm. He was overwhelmed and almost afraid of how the colors moved on some unknown axis and how he wasn’t sure if she was actually looking at him or not.

“The spores and pollen Dismas, they’re everywhere!”

“Ok and?! Pascal is trying to kill Viara and Reynauld!!” he shouted back, struggling against her clenched hands. As they tussled a rush of footsteps broke the perimeter on the pairs opposite side and another sickening fungal abomination appeared as if summoned. Without hesitation Perimede flung a small bomb at the cursed thing and it stumbled about the camp, burning from the acidic explosion.

“I assumed the air here may be toxic to some degree but wouldn’t have thought it was flammable without at least one of you succumbing to death via extended periods of inhalation or the torches spontaneously combusting. Since none of that happened, I counted flammable out. But the spores…” she said bringing her hand to Dismas face and rubbing her fingers together. Her fingers were so close Dismas went cross eyed but still noticed a type of metallic green pigment staining streaks on her gloves.

“They’re not only carriers of cells and pheromones, which is I’m sure what’s attracting the larger ones, but carriers of anything! You see?! They’re sticky! They’d easily pick up a dust as fine as gunpowder only amplifying both of their flammable chemical properties” Perimede whispered her last few words, her eyes still manic and glowing.

Dismas was torn away from her by the sound of both Viara and Reynauld shouting. The misshapen crawling mushroom had sprayed the two with a cloud of fumes that each dodged enough to not inhale but part of them, Dismas could see from his distance, became covered in the greenish mustard dust Perimede smeared between her fingers. He looked around noticing streaks and smudges of the same color all over random surfaces in the encampment and to his alarm, all over him. Dismas locked eyes with the doctor and she guided their gaze to the smithing table, filthy with gunpowder from several large nearby kegs whose general area was strewn with cannonballs. Dismas understood that they sat on a literal powder keg whilst flammable spores waft about.

“No fire” Dismas said to Perimede, suddenly very aware of the pouch of gunpowder he keeps strapped to his vest.

“No fire” the doctor parroted back.

Suddenly they heard a bizarre language becoming more audible and they turned their eyes again to the smithing table.

A shriveled and stout old woman limped toward them, wearing vulgar antlers on her head, a filthy tattered robe almost tripping her as a crude smoking thurible swung for a sinuous rope belt. She spoke wildly and her mad face flapped and jiggled while she uttered her profane magics. The censer glowed a sickening orange from within as she cursed into the air and started to swing it out before her. Dismas and Perimede battled the sudden wave of fear from the grip her damnable words tried to take on their minds.

Reynauld rushed to their sides with his helmet already in his hands, his sword nowhere in sight, and flung it with all his might at the small crone. Perimede and Dismas watched in horror at the two metal objects set on a direct path to each other, one already burning from within.

The spark created by the clashing metal, ignited a perfect sphere of opaque green flame. It swallowed most of the crone in a lighting quick burst of heat and flames, sucking up all the air in the immediate vicinity. The group was pulled then pushed by the deceptively soft pop of the chemical burst and the screams of the crone who was half ablaze. As her arms flailed, she released her hold on her burning thurible and it hurtled into the closest tree, almost instantly setting the larger mushrooms along its trunk on fire. The fire spread quickly to the canopy that circled the camps perimeter and branches began to fall, aflame to the floor. The crone stumbled in the other direction, screeching and setting the shrubbery she collapsed in on fire. An entire half of the camps edge was about to be swallowed by foul green and orange flame.

Viara ripped the bandits map from her belt and opened it with shaking hands, pockets of air exploding sporadically around them.

“Behind us, we can leave on a path behind us!” Viara shouted over the growling flames that began to engulf either side of them. As they turned to sprint to safety, they heard terrible yowls of pain from the crone who had risen, now completely ablaze, stumbling toward the smithing table powder kegs.

“RUN!”

Dismas wasn’t sure who shouted, it may have been himself but either way he was a dog let loose and dashed toward the trees behind them, his terrified mind never considering to look back. He heard explosions over his heart beating in his ears and felt a heat following him through the trees and onto the path Viara shouted directions to. As Dismas sprinted, he could see light out of the corner of his eyes, the ignited camp having set forth a mass of explosive chain reactions. The flames felt alive, like some beast clawing at anything before it, anything to feed on to propel it further. The fire grew exponentially as the kegs at its source exploded, sending flaming debris everywhere, the fire cascading on itself like waves.

The highwayman was familiar with this feeling, running at top speed for his life, filling his lungs with the air he wildly surged against. For the first time since stepping foot in the weald, he finally felt his lungs properly expand and his fear was stripped to its’ most quantum form; adrenaline. His pace would be interrupted by nothing, he zigzagged and dashed over gnarly roots and shrubs, ducking under incoming branches. Up ahead as the path opened to a clearer road, another demented fungi monster appeared, arms flailing and on fire. The blaze was spreading at a furious rate, gaining on them in a fearsome pincer formation, inching closer from the left and right.

He steeled himself, maintaining top speed, calculating the distance and holding his pistol out before him, waiting for perfect pointblank range. Dismas shot close enough for the blast to push his enemy backward and lost no momentum, leaping over its withering form.

“WOOO!! BULLSEYE!!” Dismas heard Viara shout in exhilarated excitation from behind and he was invigorated, his comrades were alive and with him.

The path they raced down soon led them into a far less dense part of the wood until a complete break in the tree line placed them on the old road, the hamlets silhouette on the horizon. They stood a moment trying to catch their breath but turned to face the fire raging in the forests depth, ominously at bay as if choosing not to follow them. Perimede helped steady Viara, her wound surging with fresh pain now that her body was still enough to compute it. Dismas sat on the ground and leaned back on his hands, gulping in the chilly air flowing down the road. Reynauld dropped the large pack he’d managed to keep with him while they ran for their lives next to Dismas and followed suit with himself on the other side.

“Actually carried one off?” Dismas asked, impressed. Reynauld smirked through deep breaths and pulled the pack open exposing logbooks, maps, scrolls of paper and various letters.

“Just the necessary swag” Reynauld exhaled, still trying to steady his breathing.

“Glad we left with only paper” Viara said obviously dissatisfied.

“I thought you said we weren’t going to set the weald on fire?” Dismas’ playful jab a whisper for only Reynauld to hear. The adrenaline focused all his thoughts on how alive he felt that he didn’t flinch when Reynauld leaned in close, leaning onto the pack that separated them.

“Care to trade for your silence?” Reynauld asked, reaching stealthily into the pack and pulled out a fistful of gemstones. The sly smirk on Reynaulds face, Dismas would remember till the end of time.

“Offers the crusader to the thief” Dismas chuckled as he absolutely took the stones.

“Sounds like the beginning of a bad joke” Reynauld said and the two laughed together. For the first time Dismas was able to look him in the eyes without any fear of persecution, and blatantly admired them.

“Hey Rey, I thought you said we weren’t going to burn down the weald!” Perimede called out at them, giggling awkwardly. Dismas could see Viaras red face trying to contain laughter from behind the doctor, the true author of the accusation. The two made eye contact and cackled heartily at the sky as Reynauld hung his head between his knees, smoke billowing up from the weald in the distance.

Chapter Text

Dismas woke with a start and sat bolt upright in bed, his heart pumping wildly as his eyes darted around the room trying to penetrate the semidarkness. As abruptly as the fear coursed through him it abated and his eyes began adjusting to the comforting shadows of his room. Dismas had a bittersweet love affair with the dark, knowing parts of him are bound to it, some willing and some damned. Many times, he found himself praying to the dark to protect him in its profound embrace. Then there were the nights when he hid from himself in the dark, succumbing to shadows and silhouettes filled with groping hands and hungry mouths. Dismas avails himself to darkness, teaching him long ago how to find comfort in his sins.

He stretched in bed, the fresh surge of blood to his muscles warming him from within against the chill of the coming evening. Apparently, his midday nap lasted longer than he’d thought. The hour aside, he was glad to be back in his room at the tavern after spending a few days in the sanitarium for decontamination. After their trip into the weald Perimede insisted they all quarantine to not spread any potential contagion. Each were given separate rooms and even when they were liberated, it was a sister that brought them their belongings. Perimede commandeered the upper most floor of the sanitariums tower as her own laboratory and decreed that all are expressly prohibited from disturbing her unless it was an absolute emergency, of which she provided a written list of appropriate emergencies.

He stood up out of bed groaning after a robust yawn and a second good stretch. Thankful for his woolen underclothes Dismas shivered over to the worn-down fireplace in his room and began to assemble a fire. The hamlet was in various states of decay but Dismas could see its bones were quite grand and that even this inn turned tavern and den of sin, was at one point beautiful. As he looked around the room, he knew that it wasn’t that the structures and lands were weathered by time but weighed down by some unnatural force. A stygian miasma smeared itself all over in an insidious and penetrating way. He felt a sadness for the room, the invasive dinge threatening to smother and stain the space evermore. Dismas was glad to ignite the flame, for himself and the room.

His uncharacteristic moment of reverence to the growing flame in the hearth was short lived, a roar of laughter erupting from the tavern below like nothing he’d ever heard before. What surprised him more was that he was certain it was made by only one person. He listened for more noise as he dressed but could only make out smaller muffled sounds of laughter. Dismas adjusted his coat as he descended into the tavern and paused in its fastening when his eyes discovered the two culprits of the bombastic mirth. The taverns usually surly proprietor Bastien was standing, arms over shoulders with a man almost twice his size. He was more shocked by Bastiens’ laughter than the half giant man, whose dark reddish-brown skin was so rare in such a far-flung boondock. Dismas would never claim to be a man of the world but he has visited many a seductively sinister underworld, nexuses that connected people of all walks of life, from continents near and far. Some of “his” most prized possessions were trinkets and baubles from lands halfway across the planet he knows he’d never stepped foot on.

The bizarreness of this brawny man was his armor regalia, representative of some position in the upper echelons of military hierarchy. Whatever his reasons for being in such a forgotten corner of the world, Dismas felt he could trust anyone who could crack through Bastien's impenetrable grimace and bring him to full bellied laughter. Their inaudible chatter burst out again in celebratory roaring as Dismas made for the door, unable to control his own smiling. The booming sounds of the armored gentleman bolstered something in him simply by hearing it and Dismas walked more confidently, confused but confident. Outside the tavern, the highwayman came upon a second scene and this too provided another unfamiliar face.

Viara was discussing something with what Dismas understood to be a nun of some sort, though he couldn’t attest to having seen a nuns’ robe armored in certain places, and found it ironic that beside the holy book of Light and Flame fastened to her belt, was a mace. The woman is gently featured with soft eyes and fair skin. Her delicate face possessed a rigidity he assumed was grafted into her by the discipline of her faith, her hood casting a hardness over the sandy gold of her eyes. The woman focused on Dismas as he approached and Viara turned following the line of sight, smiling genuinely when discovering it was him.

“Ah, always right on time” Viara said outstretching her arm at Dismas, her gloved hand beckoning him closer. Her hair was set high on her head in a tidy bun and her large strikingly white lace ascot cascaded extravagantly over her tightly closed floor length black velvet coat. Viaras proverbial best foot forward was wrapped in silk and jewels and Dismas was certain her efforts were not for this meek woman, an entire head shorter than the marchioness

“May I introduce, Dismas. Dismas, this is Junia” Viara gingerly offered them to one another.

“Hello” Dismas said nodding, poking his neck out as if to bow, unsure how to appropriately address this woman of faith.

“Nice to meet you Dismas” she said, her deeper than lighter voice a small surprise against her slightness. It was smooth and just breathless enough to remain appropriate. She cleared her throat and looked away from him.

“Junia is a vestal of the Light. She has answered our call for aide” Viara said, smiling from Dismas to Junia.

“I hope to help the Light cleanse this land. I lend myself willingly to your cause” she said firmly, her eyes aimed at the ground than to either of the two standing before her. Dismas and Viara shrugged at one another.

“Quite the declaration, I’m honored and humbly accept your assistance” Viara extended her hand and nodded to the priestess as she shook it with her own. Dismas wasn’t sure what they had discussed before he arrived, but it was enough for Junia to join their ranks then and there.

Once again Junia's situational awareness, or what Dismas believes is more anxiety, averted her attention to the left of them and their eyes followed. The same older man that sought out Dismas that first day at the tavern approached with Reynauld in tow. The three turned to fully face the incoming two, though Dismas keeping his focus on the elder. After only a few days in containment, feeling bashful as if it were the first time seeing Reynauld ever, surprised Dismas more than anything else. The second feeling was excitement which he refused to entertain. In doing so meant that he absolutely, for the tiniest of moments while alone in the sanitarium, thought about seeing him.

Dismas looked at Reynauld and swore he saw the knight tense up and had he bet on it he’d have won. Reynauld wasn’t expecting Dismas to be present and found the visual of two murderous criminals standing next to what he certainly recognizes as a Vestal of the Light, extremely odd.

“Mr. Drew thank you” Viara smiled genuinely, holding the man affectionately in her eyes.

“M’lady” the kind man said with a precise steady bow.

“Mr. Drew could you tell Bastien to prepare some hot cordials, the elderflower please, but the spiced bramble for the general…and yourself” she leaned in with a playful wink and smirk. Dismas knew now her finery wasn’t meant for the humble woman but for the lively gentleman he had passed in the tavern, his prestigious attire making perfect sense now with the knowledge of his rank as a general.

“Yes m’lady” Mr. Drew spoke while bowing before making his way to the tavern.

“I present our very own crusader, Reynauld” Viara graciously motioned to the holy woman, her face almost proud.

“I no longer crusade for anyone” Reynauld corrected Viara who completely disregarded his intensity.

“This is Junia a- “Viara attempted to continue the introduction.

“A vestal of the Light” Reynauld said flatly to Junia and not Viara. Thief and graver robber alike were surprised by the lack of immediate reverence for the vestal, she, being another of the faithful.

“A son of the Flame” Junias response was solemn in tone. Dismas and Viara exchanged intrigued glances this time, neither could tell if the simple exchange was confrontational or not. Dismas was ignorant of the specificities on the religion of the Light and Flame beyond the faiths’ divine trinity: The Light, the Flame and the Vessel. Neither of the two criminals greatly aware of the faiths principles and worship nor how these separate sects of the spirituality interacted with one another.

“Reynauld commands the reconstruction efforts and stratagems for our campaigning, along with assisting the prior with any and all needs of the abbey” Viara said confidently, determined to keep this second arrival of new faces from becoming a complete disaster.

“I pray all servants who bear the Flames blessing do so righteously. None are above the Light; none shall indulge hubris” Junia remained somber in her countenance but now gentle in her tone.

Reynaulds eyes went practically black, unnerving them with his shark like aspect.

“Pride is the path to foolishness” Reynauld said, his lips thinning.

“So say the verses.” Junia held her eyes closed for a moment before she spoke.

“Lady Beauffant tells me she’s witnessed you wield the Flames’ blessing against darkness. Temperance is a blessing of the Light, none shall indulge wrath” she said it warmly as if a prayer but still, in some way forceful.

“Always know, never exceed thy limits” Reynauld's statement sounding more like an answer to a question she didn’t ask.

“So say the verses” Junia repeated. There was a hush over the strange moment that only Reynauld and Junia appeared to comprehend. With only conjecture, the astute marchioness wasn’t sure how to proceed without risk of social faux pas. It had become so awkwardly still, Dismas shifted on his feet and cleared his throat thoroughly. Junia shot a quick glance at him and then back to Reynauld.

“Trust not armed men, for they seek to wound. None shall indulge in-” she attempted to say only to Reynauld.

“So say the verses” Reyanuld practically growled at the vestal, the two sinners remaining transfixed upon this bizarre scene between the pious.

“My lady if I may- “Junia turned her attention to Viara in a flash.

“Oh, Junia please, call me Viara lest I forget myself” the marchioness cheerily exclaimed at the modest woman she towered over. Junia giggled nervously as Viara laughed out loud, pouncing at the chance to regain control of the conversation.

“Forgive me, you were saying?” Viara said making obvious and intentional eye-contact, her determination to keep Junias attention absolute.

“I wondered where I’ll be- “

“Where you’ll be staying? Of course!! I’ve already had a room prepared for you at the south end of the cloister. The prior is expecting you with the abbess of course,” Viara silkily explained while slowly eclipsing Reynauld completely with her body, turning she and Junia to face the road leading to the abbey.

“We’ve prepared a room for her to move back in as well since our new physician can better manage the sisters of the sanitarium alone. Mother superior finds it difficult to indulge the good doctor's…eccentricities” Viara smiled casually.

“Yea, she's certainly got those” Dismas chuckled and Viaras serene visage faltered, a giggle escaping her pursed lips. Reynauld looked away and scratched the corner of his jaw through his beard, looking positively furious.

“If I may, I’d like very much to speak to the blacksmith before I see the prior and abbess” Junia tried sounding chipper through her fraying nerves.

“By all means” Viara obliged, more than grateful she avoided having to give her a tour. The three stood quietly watching the vestal head to the blacksmith, the air taught, like the string of a bow pulled to loose an arrow.

“I wasn’t aware you’d called upon a vestal of the Light” Reynauld said pointedly.

“She’s rather a surprise really. I’m glad the prior is so amenable to her joining our ranks, he and the abbess wanted to claim her as a permanent fixture at the abbey when they discovered she was coming.”. Viara fiddled with the clasp of her pearl earring, not speaking directly to Reynauld.

“The prior has been aware of this?” Reynauld asked as carefully as Dismas listened for any lapse in his composure, watching fury bubbling in him.

“Certainly. I saw no reason why our quarantine would have to slow any construction that need be done, especially when time was of the essence. It was only two rooms to renovate” Viara explained while adjusting the buttons to her lace gloves, her eyes now focused on her hands.

“How did you get post while our eccentric doctor had us locked up?” Dismas asked.

“I had Mr. Drew bring me and send out my letters from my room” Viara answered casually.

“Why do you make that ancient man do things?” he had to finally question her.

“That’s actually kind of an adorable story” she smiled fondly at Dismas.

“So, the prior didn’t ask that you send for a vestal?” Reynauld loudly interrupted.

“I’m not sure why what he and I discussed is important” she answered annoyed.

“So then why is she here?” the knights’ tone was on the verge of demanding.

“Why shouldn’t she be Reynauld?” Viara questioned with blatant indignation, a brief silence following the small clash.

“It seems an odd addition to our numbers rather than to the abbeys’. Was repairing the cloister the only thing you and the prior discussed?” he asked, awkwardly shifting his weight from one leg to the other.

“If you must know we discussed him focusing on his confirmation and benediction to abbot.” Viara replied turning her body to completely face Reynauld now, folding her hands neatly over her abdomen. The relief flashed across his face for but a moment before confusion set in.

“That’s…unexpected of you both. Why?” Reynauld wasn’t sure how to compute her sentence.

“I have plans for the abbey” Viara said, looking at her hands again. Reynauld looked to Dismas who could only shrug being just as confused. Viara looked between the two men staring at her, their silence screaming for explanation.

“Well, I’d like to revitalize our position in the county as soon as we’ve purified this place and I think the abbey is important to the people. Does that soothe your nerves, or should I defer to you on all things in future?” the aristocrat snipped.

“That won’t be necessary, if you will excuse me…m’lady” Reynauld was cavalier in tone, putting emphasis on her honorifics.

“No, I do not excuse you” she gently answered, Reynauld stopping mid step to turn, his face like thunder.

“I didn’t summon you here to watch you have some bizarre verse sharing moment with a nun, who by the way, I didn’t send for and nor did the prior.” Viara stepped toward the knight, her face softening and her tone quieting.

“The guest I want you to meet, who I thank the Light Bastien knows, wrote ahead of his arrival that he’d met a vestal searching for the Old Road and brought her with him. It’s suspiciously auspicious that a healer would come searching for us instead of the reverse. Moreover, she refuses to take a stipend and I’m not looking that gifted horse in the mouth” she explained.

“And whom would you like me to meet?” Reynauld asked, practically urbane.

“A Nigerian Chieftain general” Viara answered.

“A chieftain?” Reyanuld sounded more snobbish than he meant.

“Don’t be misled by terminology sir knight, he outranks us both. By all rights amongst the gentry, he’s a Duke. Luckily for us he’d rather be a man at arms standing amongst soldiers than sitting amongst the aristocracy he was born into”

“Seems a strange change to make from cushy Duke to laboring soldier” Dismas shared.

“To live by a code of honor rather than sloth and self-interest?” Reynauld said unintentionally curt, hating everything coming out of his mouth. Dismas and Viara scoffed in separate directions, each audibly snickering. Viara cleared the laughter from her throat, straightening her ascot.

“Well, from what Bastien has told me he’s killed enough for nobles in too many places. Hopefully, we can bond over hating our own blue blood and he’ll help us” Viara smiled at her plan.

“How does he wish to be addressed then?” the knight inquiring more than the man.

“By his name not his title, Ugwu Obiefune” the marchioness carefully annunciated. “Or his rank for that matter, I’m not sure he remembers his glory days with any great fondness.” Viara said turning to Dismas.

“Now come help me sell our cause before we have to sell ourselves”, she smirked at the thief and linked their arms, Reynauld sighing deeply as they walked away.

“We know, we know. ‘Preserve thine own virtue above all else’”, Dismas said over his shoulder as he went, rooting the crusader to the spot by the jest.

“So say the verses” Reynauld whispered to himself, watching Dismas disappear into the tavern. The cosmic joke of hearing that verse from that mouth was not lost on him and he felt mocked by the entire world.

The general Obiefune or simply Obi as he now goes by, was slightly taller than Reynauld, twice as wide and positively dashing. The sterling white hair on his head and suave face shows so stark against his deep sepia skin that one barely acknowledges the eye patch amongst his regal handsomeness, his seasoned age and charming accent impossible to guess. Formalities were briefly exchanged before the atmosphere became so comfortable; it was jovial.

As dusk set the sky ablaze outside the tavern, within libation flowed at a steady pace while they listened to tales of the generals’ infinite campaigns and missions. Reynauld exchanged moments when he himself commanded men and the two warriors nostalgically bonded over bittersweet battlefield memories. Obi and Viara indeed mocked their ranks and cherished together times they rebelled against the shackles of their societal traditions. Dismas charmed the decorated noble with jokes and cuss words he could recite in Obis’ native tongue that he’d learned from an Igbo assassin that tried to kill him twice. He couldn’t help but relish in how impressed Reynauld looked. When Musar arrived per the guidance of Mr. Drew, he was easily absorbed into the merriment and soon combat techniques were being debated between he, Reynauld and Obi.

Viara went in search of Bastien leaving Dismas alone to watch over the three largest men in the tavern. Reynauld and Musar stood by a table at the back, getting into slow motion grapple forms while Obi pointed out proper posture and footing. Dismas couldn’t help but laugh genuinely at them but in no way was it in mock. In the span of only a few hours this man had managed to incite revelry into every corner of the tavern. Even the small crowd filling the front half of the place was touched by the mirth the five had raised from their isolated corner in the back. Dismas could absolutely understand how a man such as this could easily lead scores of men into battle barely knowing them, to say nothing on how he achieved getting Musar and Reynauld laughing together.

He was so content with the jolly atmosphere that he didnt notice the body that had taken a seat beside him until the delicate scent of gardenia brushing passed his cheek, turning his head.

“Hello” Junia's gentle voice was still heard over the buzz of the tavern. She wore a simple grey frock now, her hair tied back loosely and mostly wrapped in a plain scarf. Without the hood of her robes her features came alive, and she was stunning, her humble garbs inappropriate against her beauty.

“Hello” Dismas sat up just ever so slightly and closed his legs, offering more space. He drank deeply from his wine and the silence that settled between them, he dreaded would last for all eternity. By then the three other men were standing at the table they claimed, using it as what Dismas assumed was a makeshift war map. He could hear vague discussion about moving battalions and other military jargon, Musar looking more lost than engaged. The bounty hunter looked up and caught the pair staring and without skipping a beat, he winked at them, his eyes lingering on Junia. Dismas tried and failed to not laugh at Junia's silent shock as she turned scarlet, the wicked bounty hunter chuckling into his tankard.

The silence endured and Dismas continued to sift through jokes in his mind, searching for something NOT graphic or obscene that could help bridge the gaping crevasse between him and this holy woman. As he seriously considered discussing the weather, Dismas hadn’t realized he’d been absently staring at Obis’ ‘war’ table and this time Reynauld looked up. The crusader immediately found him and as caught off guard and breathless as Dismas instantaneously became, he was tipsy enough to hold the gaze. Through the haze between them, he couldn’t look away from Reynauld's cheeks rosy from drink or his sleepy glazed over eyes. The knight was smiling at him like a fool and Dismas knew he was smiling right back, the fresh surge of heat rushing to his face he knew was turning him redder than pink. He took a long steady chug from his cup attempting to skew the smile breaking across his face. When he lowered his drink to look back, Reynauld's attention had returned to his tables’ provisional battlefield, his face now severe. Junia sighed deeply beside Dismas and he took the opportunity.

“Don’t worry, he didn’t look me in the eyes for the first three days of knowing him” Dismas tried to keep it light and was rewarded. He commiserated with the weakness in her smile and could tell it wasn’t compulsory, just the most she could genuinely muster.

“I think Reynauld has misinterpreted my reasons for being here” Junia said quietly to the cup in her hands, sipping slowly. In a moment of inexplicable empathy Dismas could feel the comforting energy surrounding her, how she teemed with light but that she herself, was sad. Her tender statuesque aspect made him wonder if she were a statue coming to life or a woman turning to stone.

“Don’t be cut up about that, I think he misunderstands most things” he said smiling wide, daring a wink. They smiled at one another and Dismas could see more effort behind it now and was glad to see her at a bit more ease.

“Dismas about earlier- “Junia had started.

“Dirty. Little. Bastard! Letting the men folk cock fight while you watch, wet with wonder?!” Viara said slapping Dismas on the back, abruptly shocking the pair. He spat out his fresh gulp of wine and Junia choked into her cup.

“JUNIA! What a COMPLETE and delightful surprise to see you here” the marchioness said, adjusting her ascot.

“Might I offer you a drink?” she asked gliding gracefully down into a chair while a barmaid rushed over and began frantically wiping the table down. With a loud intentional thud, Viara placed a shapely crystal decanter almost on top of the maids’ swiping hands, her signal to depart.

“Oh no thank you. I’m enjoying your families blend of tea very much, thank you for the gift” Junia said bowing her head slightly beyond a nod and drinking from her cup.

Viara mouthed something inaudible through a chuckle, waving one hand at Junia as the other poured Dismas’ glass full, the two drinking deeply from their refreshed drinks.

“AH HA HA HA!” Obi boomed from the other table as he came upon them, Musar leaning against the larger mans’ shoulder, he too roaring with laughter.

“Priestess I hope you have not been drinking as much as this fool” Obi said cheerfully to Junia, giving Musar a hefty smack to the shoulder and nearly toppling him into Reynauld. The knight helped Musar balance himself and the two chuckled together as he straightened up.

“Bah, I’m sure the sister could help heal a head heavy from drink eh?” Musar said to Junia, her face freezing over.

“I am a Vestal, and my gifts are not meant to soothe flagrant sin” she stood slowly as she spoke, a sly grin breaking across Musars face.

“What kind of sin do you sooth- “the sloppy Musar had started to say but Reynauld stealthily swatted at the man's crotch, choking him instantly.

“Well, I think that’s enough for tonight” Viara said quickly standing as Musar groaned in the background, Obi and Reynauld sharing a snicker at his expense.

“I think we should all get rest before tomorrows’ excursion. Goodnight” the humble vestal said it softly to no one in particular and left the tavern.

“We have an excursion tomorrow?” Dismas asked Viara confused.

“THEY have an excursion tomorrow; we have things to do here” she said motioning to the three other men.

“Indeed, we do! I am curious to see who these primitive bandits are that squat in your rotting woods” Obi excitedly smiled as he loomed over them.

“Obi believes we should directly strike at them now as they still may have not fully recovered from the fire” Viara explained. Dismas was elated he wasn’t chosen to return to the weald, especially so soon after his first visit.

“Aw and here I thought I’d have another jog through the brush” he cracked about it.

“There’s no need for you to have to go back there” Reynauld quietly declared, silencing any giggles from Dismas’ jest. Dismas turned to face the crusader, his tone making the hair on the back of Dismas’ neck stand on end. It was concern, an almost desperate demand to keep him safe and when Reynauld finally heard the thought, he desperately wished he hadn’t uttered it aloud.

“We need someone who’s bettered armored, someone who can take a few good hits” Reynauld said unequivocally casual though his heart was racing, hoping he'd smothered the moment.

“Oh, I’m sure Dismas can take a few good h- “Musar once again tried to speak only to be jabbed quickly in the throat by the marchioness that suddenly appeared at his side.

“Go to bed!” she said at his back. Obi pointed and laughed at the choking bountyhunter.

“Goodnight” Reynauld said quickly as he unceremoniously left that tavern.

“I shall gather this one” Obi motioned at Musar's muscular frame, slumped backward over a quivering chair, his dead weight was threatening to turn to splinters.

“I thank you” Viara said to the general as he hoisted Musar over his shoulder.

“And what plans have I been nominated to partake in tomorrow?” Dismas asked as they made their way upstairs and Obi to the barracks.

“Oh, not just nominated, my dear you’ve won” she teased, Dismas halting their ascent up the stairs to glare at her.

“I need your helping looking around my uncles abandoned library at the manor everyone else is too scared to enter” she said as if it sufficed.

“For what…knowledge?” he asked as she made to her door on the other side of the gallery having left him at his.

“Precisely! So inquisitive Dismas!” she harped from down the hall.

“Shut up” he half shouted, and half laughed at her closing door.

Chapter Text

Dismas pulled deeply from his pipe, the fluffy green, purple tinted herb quickly transforming into glowing orange embers, his billowing exhale making space inside him for the peaceful fog. The evening was quiet, eerily so if Dismas did not prefer the company of the moon over the sun and was glad for the crisp night air that brushed against him at his open window. His day had been more mentally than physically taxing so he couldn’t complain much. He and Viara spent the afternoon in the crumbling library of her uncles, rummaging for any useful information they could. She uncovered several of his memoirs though they were incomplete and provided more questions than answers. He shivered at the memory of some of the pages they had found, scribbled with bizarre steps to dark rituals and strange words he dared not even attempt to utter aloud. Dismas was glad for Viaras’ foresight, recalling that she had already cast a net for any scholar or practitioner of the arcane arts that could assist them in deciphering the late Marquis’ ramblings about outer spheres and sacred rites.

He tried to review a moment with Viara when he saw her stowing away certain papers when she thought he wasn’t looking, but he couldn’t piece the thoughts back together. Like most of everything he did earlier that day, it was interrupted and or eclipsed entirely by thoughts of Reynauld. He remembered feeling remarkably stupid having only up until the very moment of his departure, realize that he wasn’t going with Reynauld and everything that that meant. He would know nothing of his wellbeing or how he would fare against whatever malign hell the weald may gestate. Dismas had felt the surprising and suffocating reality of the circumstance; Reynauld could easily die in the weald, and he would never see him again.

Dismas took a deep breath and let the fear go, the mission was a success and Reynauld had returned unharmed. He felt silly then and now at how relieved and even excited he was when the party returned earlier that evening. Obi insisted they not make an exhibition of their victory over the brigands and their cannon, suggesting solemn contemplation as the win meant they would be heading back out as soon as possible to finish them off with the cannon still intact. The haze from several deep drags from his pipe would not allow the thought of returning to the weald to spoil his tranquil mental ambience. He had to suddenly bury his cough into the crook of his elbow as two figures emerged from amongst the shadows down below.

From the upper levels of the tavern, his room's window faces most of the hamlet's square and currently, along its edges, crept Viara and Perimede. Viara pulled the doctor by the hand, shushing her several times as they snuck on, Perimede audible in the heavy quiet that blanketed the hamlet. Dismas crouched quickly and smiled as he peaked over the windowsill, determined not to lose sight of them. It came as no surprise that she led Perimede to the smithy where of course the baths are, and his smile only widened. He was happy for her and even envied the gusto with which she hunted her prey but then again, he never heard of a wolf that struggled with a chicken.

They disappeared into the shadows of the blacksmith forge leaving Dismas with thoughts of Reynauld and his eyes wandered up the road. The abbey rose in the distance, the few repaired windows stood out against the black matte edifice of the place, though what could be seen through them was only deep black empty space. Like most things in the hamlet, it could be easily pitied and Dismas did so, wondering how so large a building could appear so sad and meek.

He sighed rather than exhaled the smoke from his lungs and rested his elbows on the windowsill. Dismas swore to himself he would be braver in future and in mere moments his maxim would be tested.

The air suddenly cracked like thunder and half of the abbeys large oaken doors exploded, flames quickly engulfing the entryway. His mind froze and raced all at once, the shock and confusion growing as more buildings began to be randomly pelted with small explosives that would burst and spill pools of flame. Still mostly dressed Dismas leapt into his boots, strapped his holster to his waist and flew from his room. As he took the steps two at a time, he could hear horns bellowing and men roaring. He stopped short at the bar after another thundering shockwave shook the tavern, a chorus of screaming townsfolk coming to life.

“WHERE IS HER LADYSHIP!?!?” Bastien shouted over a third reverberating boom, the large man clearing the last four steps of the staircase Dismas only just descended.

“She’s at the smithy!” Dismas called out over the growing commotion outside. Bastien nodded as he disappeared behind the bar momentarily only to return with a huge double-barreled cannon like gun in one hand, a hatchet in the other and a rifle as tall as the man himself strapped across his back. He lobbed a small bag of rounds at Dismas that he nearly dropped, unable to keep up with the surprising and unnatural agility of the massive man.

“These bite, try not to use them all. Now come, we’ve been set upon” Bastien said nothing more and his eyes went dark. He stepped to the door of the tavern and kicked it through, roaring into the air with Dismas behind him.

The bells of the watchtower cried out into the night; their warnings superfluous over the raging entropy that gripped the hamlet. Buildings were already ablaze, gun shots and cannon fire went off all around, roaring men and screaming women in the streets. He could recognize the sickening green garbs of the derelict brigands of the weald, his nose wrinkling in disgust as he shot the closest he could see. They did not appear to be many in number, but the fire sewed a hysteria that scattered the people, some tried to contain the flames while others fought the invading force. Dismas moved through the square, gutting one or two enemies from behind, backing up the young men that came out to defend them all.

He raced toward the abbey but dashed behind a fallen awning at the forge, ducking shots from a random rogue. He quickly loaded the new rounds but before he had the chance to shoot, he heard the man gasp and choke. Dismas dared a peek and saw Perimede step from behind the invader as his body fell limp at her feet.

“Oh, hello Dismas!” she said loudly at him, her genuine gladness to see him was unsettling against the splattered blood on her simple nightgown. A man suddenly flew out of the forge and onto the street, falling still and silent near them. Viara rushed from out of the shadows, her black silk nightdress clinging to wet patches of her skin, her gleaming dagger darkened with blood.

“What the fuck is going on?!” she hollered over the ruckus.

“It’s those damn brigands from your woods!” Obi hollered suddenly near and only armored from the waist down, crushing a bandit with the edge of his shield. A deafening blast shook the air around them as another cannon round was fired at the abbey and though it missed its imposing face, Dismas knew that only meant it had made it to the cloister at the back. They could barely register the attack before another dreadful noise shocked them. They turned to behold a wall of a man the size of Obi, holding a jagged shield the size of Dismas. The giant wolf pelt he adorned was as gruesome and handsome as his own scowling face. He glared and roared at them again, his free hand pounding on his blood-soaked shield. Obi pulled a white-hot mallet that had tipped into the forge and stepped toward the challenger.

“Viara, help Bastien and Musar hold the gate. Perimede, gather the wounded to the sanitarium and arm yourselves there, they cannot breach its walls. Dismas, find Reynauld and Junia” Obi commanded, and they obeyed. He brandished his makeshift weapon and clanged it against his shield, sparks and embers cascading outward like fireworks. From the generals puffed chest erupted forth a roar that almost silenced the crackling fires near them. Courage surged through each of them, the sound spurring them on to victory, bolstering every hope to survive.

Dismas raced up the street to the abbey, dread quickening his pace. A monstrous hole had been blasted into the outer walls of the cloister, opening a path to the large garden at its center. Dismas crept in quickly but quietly, with so much of the commotion deflected by the abbey’s walls he could hear his own breath again. Footsteps echoed down darkened halls and empty chambers that he could barely make out as he crept along, his eyes straining against the black. Dismas wasn’t sure what direction to move toward until he saw a shadowy figure quickly disappear into one of the nearby rooms. He followed the intruder stealthily to catch them off guard but once more he lost the opportunity to strike before reaching the rooms entrance.

“YOU DARE?!” a woman’s voice erupted from the room beyond.

A dazzling golden light burst forth from the doorway followed by a stumbling brigand clutching his face. Stunned by the luminous flash, he backed against the wall giving Dismas all the time he needed to pull the trigger. The gunshot was a piercing ding, audible over the initial gun blast, like something he had never heard before. It popped and burst in the mans’ shoulder, misting the air with flesh and blood. He yowled at the abrupt pain and before he slid down the wall Junia lunged forth from the room and swiftly bashed him across the face.

Junia stood over him, her long braid was untidy and her nightgown disheveled and torn. She was trembling from head to toe and focused on the man at her feet with a combination of terror and fury.

“I belong to the Light alone!!” she raised her mace above her head, and it glowed bright with an arc of white light above it.

The hooligan jumped at her fierce exclamation and the holy woman began to strike the man’s head over and over. Dismas dared not try and stop her and he certainly didn’t need to help her make him unrecognizable as human from shoulder up. He didn’t give the chunky bloody mass a second glance and faced Junia who raised a hand to his incoming question.

“I’m fine. He isn’t the first beast I’ve ground into bonemeal” she explained. Dismas was impressed and afraid, imagining a vestal of the Light having bludgeoned more than one person to death.

Another crash shook the floor beneath their feet.

“What’s happening? I swore I had dreamt the walls shaking until that brute woke me” she remained poised and soft while spattered with blood.

“The brigands from the weald are raiding the hamlet” the casual air of the statement betraying the hummingbird pace of his heart. Junia closed her eyes and mouthed a silent prayer.

“A shadow approaches” she whispered to herself. Junia paused as if listening to words only she could hear. She opened her eyes and looked to Dismas, focus piercing through her trepidation.

“If they’ve made it this far into the cloisters, they had to have passed the priors chamber and the mother superior” she said concerned, her mind racing through scenarios.

“Do you know where they are?” he asked.

“I do” she dashed quickly into her darkened room and returned with shoes on and her verse book in hand. Several voices began to shout from either side of them and Dismas looked to Junia, growing more impatient not knowing how to navigate the abbeys surrounding buildings.

“Where’s Reynauld?” he asked hurriedly as more fighting could be heard.

“His room is in the dormitory directly across the garden from us, on the opposite side of the cloister” she said as she tied her hair back and readied herself. Dismas loaded his gun and they locked eyes, knowing that separating in the darkened halls of the abbey under siege was less than ideal.

“A shade has crept into the hamlet Dismas, may the Light guide you” she said softly to him, and he was genuinely touched by the sentiment, not sure if anyone's’ hoped for him before.

“Be safe” he honestly wanted her to be.

She turned to leave first, and he could hear her reciting something in earnest, amazed to see her hand glowing with a soft light. Dismas looked out of the hall's window and could see the dormitory across garden, silhouetted against an eerie red glow as the burning hamlet lit up the sky. He entered the adjacent hall and the immediate passage to his left was caved in and he hoped beyond the impossible wall of rubble wasn’t the path to Reynaulds room. Dismas turned at the sound of clanging metal from behind him and darted off toward groans of pain.

Relief and terror rushed into him as the dimly lit room came into focus. Two brigands lay struck down and one still stood though swaying on his feet, crossbow fumbling in hand. Across the room Reynauld was on bent knee, gripping his thigh, his sword feet away. Dismas had barely turned away from the crusader before his arm went up, his pistol filling the space with its violence. The impeccable shot entered just above the bridge of their enemies nose and the bandit dropped; the back of his head had instantly exploded on the wall behind him.

“For fucks sake!” Dismas laughed at his pistol, making a mental note to ask what kind of rounds Bastien had given him. Reynauld sighed deeply as he lumbered to a large barrel in what appeared to be a makeshift storage room, various crates and containers littered the small space.

“Naturally, it would be you” Reynauld said as he tried to tear a small muslin sack in half. He winced as blood leaked from his bicep after having flexed, the fresh slice across his upper arm now obvious. Dismas impulsively rushed to help and snatched the semi torn fabric from the crusader while he eyed him like cornered prey. Neither spoke as Dismas drew his blade to make clean strips for the wounds and hoped Reynauld couldn’t hear his heart pounding in his chest.

“Up” Dismas cleared his throat, holding the first of the newly crafted bandages before him. Reynauld lifted his elbow to shoulder height giving Dismas the room to wrap completely around his wounded bicep. The knight suddenly rippled with goosebumps waiting for the touch, once again shirtless, sweating, and filthy before the thief.

Dismas’ hand hesitated and he swore to despise it for all of time, the moment witnessed by them both. Reynauld looked away and leaned toward him to carry on, the two equally tense about the incoming contact. Dismas could feel the heat from Reynaulds slick skin as his hands reached the knights’ raised arm. Reynauld hated himself for flexing at Dismas’ touch and Dismas all but stopped breathing noticing how much of his average sized hand could not fit around the mans’ bicep. He tightened a small knot and released Reynauld, turning to gather up a fresh dressing.

Dismas sighed but readied himself, remembering what needed mending next and motioned for the knight to sit on a shorter barrel.

"Over the pants is fine..." Reynauld said, red-faced, knowing he'd implode having to drop-trou in front of Dismas.

The highwayman took a deep breath as stealthily as he could before kneeling at the knight's muscular leg, only then noticing it would take more than one bandage to properly wrap his huge thigh.

Reynauld shifted where he sat, wriggling every time Dismas’ hands touched his skin, the thief pausing here and there to give him a moment. Dismas managed to secure the first two bandages through Reynauld's squirming only to have to replace them, his nervous flexing saturating the bandages in fresh blood. By the fourth attempt to tie the last bandage, between Reynauld's teeth sucking and Dismas’ huffs, they had reached their limit and Dismas tugged the crusaders leg straight.

“That hurts!” Reynauld barked at him.

“Well sit still and it won't hurt so much!” Dismas barked back and squeezed the mans’ giant thigh, pressing it against his own. Reynauld winced and looked away, completely silent and still while Dismas carefully tied the final knot.

“Thank you” Reynauld mustered up.

“The bolt went right through so I’m sure all you’ll need is a couple days sit down and I guess try not to do too much with your arm” Dismas wasn’t sure where to keep his eyes at his current angle.

As he tried to rise Reynauld leaned forward and grabbed hold of his forearm, leaving Dismas on bent knee, the sudden movement putting them at eye level. It was the longest he had held eye contact with Reynauld, and his heart went from frenzied to frozen.

“I’m sorry” Reynauld said breaking their gaze and loosening his hold, afraid Dismas would feel his hand tremble. Dismas took advantage of the moment and kept staring, taking in every facet of the mans’ profile.

“Don’t worry about it, I’d be crabby after getting shot too” Dismas tried to brush off the apology and Reynauld's grip on him intensified once more.

“No, I’m sorry for how I’ve treated you” Reynauld became visibly frustrated, as if something were simultaneously trying to force him to and stop him from speaking.

“I probably wouldn’t like me either and given my occupation I understand why you’d rather not keep my company” the thief shrugged, determined to appear unbothered, his light airs only frustrating Reynauld further.

“I’m not as petty as that! This isn’t about your…occupation” the knight let go of Dismas’ arm and stood up abruptly, leaving the man kneeling.

“Uh…ok. Then what’s all this about?” Dismas asked, completely bewildered by the sudden outburst.

“It’s about…YOU!” he exclaimed. Dismas rose and stepped toward him, now irritated and even more confused. Reynauld turned away and raked his fingers through his hair.

“What about ME?” Dismas emphasized himself.

“Everything about you” he said slowly, his back still to Dismas.

“So, you’ve mistreated me because of who I am in general as a person?” Dismas asked trying to understand.

“Yes.”

“And who am I then?!” Dismas shouted angrily.

“Hopefully just a moralless deviant criminal!” Reynauld said, turning quickly to face him.

“Hopefully?! Is the alternative of NOT being a deviant criminal somehow worse for you?”

“Yes!” Reynauld yelled, the word bouncing off the walls.

“Why?!” Dismas questioned with equal fervor and volume.

“Because it would be easier to stop thinking about you all the time!” Reynauld said, silencing them both. Dismas was dumbstruck and disarmed by the statement, but the pandemonium outside the abbey made anything impossible to feel or express, making any pause selfish.

“Sorry I’m not the degenerate street rat you were expecting, you asshole!” Dismas seethed with frustration and resentment, now of all times such a confession emerges.

“I wasn’t expecting a degenerate and didn’t say that!” Reynauld huffed.

“No, you’d just prefer that!” Dismas instantly rebutted.

“Do you make everything impossible?!” Reynauld screamed, trying to stop every fiber of his being from pulling the man close.

“Only when me existing is a problem!” Dismas barked, indignant.

“Yes! Your existence is exactly the problem!” his temper flaring and his voice enraged.

“Well fuck you then!” Dismas defended, only capable of vulgarity at this point.

“Even that! Even your FILTHY MOUTH!” Reyanuld threw his arms up and said more to the room than to Dismas.

“I THOUGHT THIS WAS AN APOLOGY!!” Dismas yelled, leaning into his own shout.

“IT WAS!” Reynauld roared, slamming his fist onto a crate, smashing it to splinters. Dismas took a deep breath and chose his venom carefully.

“Why don’t you go recite some of those fucking verses and maybe you’ll calm the fuck down- “

Reynauld had made it to Dismas in one bound and gripped his face tightly in his hands, leaning down until their faces were barely an inch apart. Dismas was rooted to the spot, the mans’ face had never been this close to his, his eyes never so manic and so captivating. A ridiculous part of him knew exactly what this was all about but no part of him could so easily believe it.

“That’s exactly it” Reynauld whispered to Dismas mouth, his voice hushed but hysterical.

“You’ve taken that from me. You have taken the verses. They were my solace, my interlude from this madness AND you…now each time I pray to deny you they shout, each time I pray FOR you they sing. Each time I recite for strength or for peace…it is you. You are this noise from afar but the closer I am to you…the quieter it all becomes. The only time, the ONLY time…that I can hear myself, is when you’re near.” Reynauld remained close to him, the hold on his face was unyielding. A tidal wave of joy and grief overcame Dismas, and he couldn’t look away from the fear in Reynaulds eyes.

“I’ve made one last vow and you…” Reynauld moved Dismas’ face away from his.

“Everything about you threatens that…and it terrifies me” he whispered, almost shaking Dismas by the head, touching their foreheads to one another. Dismas swatted the larger man off him in a huff and stepped away. He was shaken and Reynauld's words gripped a space in his chest he had not visited for a long time.

“Sorry I’m less than helpful I guess?” he snarled at Reynauld. Dismas’ stunned mind was now furious; this wasn’t the place nor the time no matter how much he wished it were.

“You. Are. MADDENING!” Reynauld raged.

“Then stay here and cry about it! Let me know when you stop being a fucking knob!” Dismas shouted and turned away to leave, barely making it to the doorway. Reynauld turned him around by his collar and pushed his back up against the nearest wall. The knights’ monstrous hands squeezed Dismas by the inner elbow and pinned his arms against the cold stone. As he bent down, they were once more face to face and Dismas could tell Reynauld was scanning his lips, taking in his eyes, his breath coming in heavy bursts against his mouth. Slowly they leaned toward each other, and just as their noses connected, they leapt apart from horror.

A hundred howls like nothing this earthly realm could conceive rushed through the walls and into every space, taking the air from their very lungs. They stumbled apart, the howling accompanied by the booming voices of some unholy transcendent choir, shouting words in an ancient and disturbing tongue. It was ice water down their backs and as it abated only screams of horror and frenzied gunfire followed. There was time for nothing else and Reynauld picked up his sword and led the way out of the room.

They froze just outside the abbey when the scene at the center of the hamlet came into view, their pause from both from shock and awe.

A robed figure hovered above the ground, wreathed in a severe magenta light. He held his arm out before him, a grotesque skull floating in the air above his open palm. The candle that burned brightly atop the skull and its vacant eye sockets glowed the same sickening shade of pink and red. Only black could be seen where this mans’ own eyes should be and his mouth moved out of sync with the many words they heard coming from all sides, certain he was the only source of the maledictions. Wherever he would set his gaze, giant red translucent tentacles erupted from the ground. At first, they appeared to simply be thrashing about but as Dismas and Reynauld raced toward the chaos they could see their comrades not fighting against the glowing red spectral tentacles but amongst them. The monstrous things either attacked the enemy or swatted at the flaming parts of buildings, separating the fire from what remained unburned.

The two were swept immediately into the current of combat. Reynauld ran to intercept a pair of thugs bounding toward Obi, who was locked in battle with the man as giant as he and Dismas rushed to protect the floating man casting his magics. A bandit was only feet away before a monstrous tentacle broke out of the earth beneath his feet and gripped him tightly by the torso. Dismas watched on horrified at the mans’ futile wriggling, making the scene more grotesque. The tentacle harshly snaked its way around the mans body and as he began to scream, it forced itself into his mouth, muffling his shouting. With shocking strength, the tentacle flexed, snapping the brigands’ spine in an instant before vanishing in a wisp of glowing red smoke. The man fell limp onto the ground and Dismas stood petrified by the mangled corpse at his feet. He locked eyes with the sorcerer and hoped the shadow cast over him from behind wasn’t another spectral limb. The pause between them was brief and as terrified as he was, Dismas felt no ill will coming from the turbaned man in arabesque robes. He saw two things in the mans’ eyes, the man himself and some elder darkness bound to him from within. Dismas’ spine shivered and he went cold as the unseen force behind him ebbed away to nothingness. He knew no mere man could perform such profane miracles without the aid of some malignant force from the abyss.

A sudden explosion erupted and its immense shockwave pushed them all backward, some falling to the ground. The brigands second cannon was destroyed in a fiery blast that demolished the remainder of the hamlets main gate. The enemy quickly scattered, their leader in tow having escaped Obi after the fierce explosion. The ensuing lull was strange and disturbingly quiet apart from the winds that still fed the flames that persisted. They looked to one another from their varied distances at a loss, watching the newcomer slowly walking to the center of their broken circle.

“Marchioness Beauffant I presume?” he said bowing to Viara, his voice wasn’t deep but velvety, his accent just as smooth and soft. They closed ranks toward the stranger.

“I am Alzalam al-Din, at your service” he bowed again, his hand to his chest and the other clutching the candled skull.

“I’m afraid I’m not quite prepared to receive guests as you can see” Viara facetiously motioned at the burning buildings all around her, she herself filthy and bruised.

“Indeed, but I believe I can help with the fires that still breathe” he said, twisting one side of his curved mustache, his goatee just as pointed. Viara was understandably skeptical of this magical stranger but more so desperate to keep the hamlet from burning to the ground.

“By all means?” she shrugged at them, no one knowing what he could possibly mean.

Alzalam closed his eyes and began to mutter to the skull, holding it close with both hands. He once again began to levitate inches above the ground and abruptly held the skull aloft toward the sky.

“G'NATH ELDRATCHANAR F'THGYLL GRY'NDOT!" he screamed at the heavens with another voice, a second sinister thing coming from inside him.

As his disturbing alien tongue boomed and echoed, the group was suddenly thrust away from Alzalam in a burst of force. No sooner as they tried to catch themselves from falling backward, they were pulled toward him. The rush of freezing winds and the soul clutching howl, surged toward the occultist and took with it any atom of light that existed in the hamlet. It was as if the sky above him had inhaled sharply, a gasp that swallowed the flames and pulled on every single soul present. The lights streaked past them and into the skull held aloft, the howling stopping abruptly. They steadied themselves against their breathless lungs and adjusting eyes, the darkness was sudden and devastatingly stark. There was no terrifying red glow or raging flames, no screaming or signs of battle but a silence that penetrated, a fathomless void of eternal night suddenly switched on. Even the stars above dimmed as if to hide in the bosom of space, shunning the unearthly shadows that now enveloped the hamlet.

There was a desperation to feel anything against the emptiness that rose in them like an icy heat, threatening to burn away all sanity. Some shook off pins and needles that rippled all over their bodies while others had to catch their breath and fight back tears. The fear was like nothing they had ever felt before, death plucking at their souls, its whisper clinging to them like frost,.

Alzalam slowly touched back down, wisps of red smoke seeped delicately from the corners of his eyes. The candlelight of the skull he cradled glowed a dim red and he appeared as similarly disturbed as everyone else, his eyes apologetic.

“Please…forgive us” he said quietly into the silent and palpable darkness around them, holding what felt like the only light left in the world.

Chapter Text

“We must give chase, NOW” Obi demanded, slamming his shield so hard into the earth it stood upright. Viara jumped at the harsh sound as she massaged the bridge of her nose.

“Yes, let's leave this very minute, while its’ still dark, in all this?” she said. Only moments ago, their new arrival tore open space itself to some damned realm that devoured all sources of light and the fire that had engulfed the hamlet. Mr. Drew approached with Bastien in tow, each with a brightly burning torch to pierce the darkness, as if to mock Viara's venom.

“Your Grace” Mr. Drew said as he handed the flame to Obi, bowing his head before taking a place behind Viara and igniting a second torch.

“Bastien…” Viara attempted to begin.

“Reynauld and I can gather some lads to see to the townsfolk m’lady” said the towering barkeep reassuringly to the troubled marchioness, bruised and bloody as he walked away into the inky dark surrounding them. Something twisted in Dismas’ belly hearing Reynaulds name, their earlier interaction haunting his mind, the squeeze of Reynaulds hands lingering on his cheeks.

“Viara, we must follow them, while they are hurt and afraid” Obi stressed. Viara glanced to Alzalam at Obi's mention of fear. She was shaken but frustrated, unable to think straight enough to formulate a strategy, the uncertainty in her face all too visible.

“We have seen who leads them now, the sooner we catch up to them the sooner we can finish this once and for all” Obi explained to them.

“Do we even know who he is?” Viara asked.

“Does it matter?” Dismas asked with no trace of ridicule. They shrugged at one another knowing it indeed didn’t matter and that they didn’t care, he is an obstacle that needs to be dealt with before more damage is done.

“Vvulf, leader of the whatever the fuck they call themselves” Musar said, suddenly near them, lobbing a battered brigand at their feet. The man coughed up blood and labored to breathe while Musar planted his foot squarely between his shoulder blades. The bounty-hunter crouched down on him with all his weight, relishing in the man's painful groaning.

“I caught him stuck under some rubble from the cannon, trying to follow his piece of shit boss” Musar stepped harder into the brigand's back until he yelped and then quickly stood him up by his shirt.

“Now, before I take more teeth, I asked you a question I’d still like the answer to...yes?” Musar asked, nodding condescendingly at the brigand, his beautiful smile impish and his eyes hungry.

“Take as many as you have to” Viara stepped toward them, glaring at the half-choked brigand.

“Take them all!! WHORE!!” the brigand said as he spat through the gap where his two front teeth should be. Musar punched the man across the chin, and he crumbled immediately.

“Great” Viara said flatly to the bounty hunter, the brigand now a limp pile at their feet.

“Would have been nice to ask where they’re going or about this witch they’re working with, or you know…anything” Dismas chided Musar, who flexed his bare chest at them. Viara and Dismas sighed, too tired to retort.

“I already did. That’s how he lost two of his not so pearly whites. He told me Vvulf has ‘business’ with the hag and that ‘tonight would be the night.’ Then I punched him again.”

“A lovers quarrel?” Dismas genuinely inquired. From the few journal entries about the ancestor's dealings with this woman, she evidently had a palate for malignantly urbane men.

“Lovers or not, we’ll have nothing to follow the longer we linger here” Obi interjected.

“Still wish we could have asked someone about where to go” Dismas reproved Musar.

“I believe I can assist in following them” Alzalam stepped closer into the circle they had formed. “She is festering throughout the weald and twists the earth itself there, anyone well versed in the arcane arts could easily detect the residual energy of her magics. I can guide us through the wood to this Hag that plagues it” Alzalam confidently explained though Dismas could see the fatigue in his face.

“Then it is settled, the magician will help us find them. Let us be off” Obi said, trying to settle the matter, clearly eager to leave.

“And who will be off exactly? I can't leave the people like this or leave like this” Viara said, motioning to her tattered black silk nightgown and the hamlet, frustrated and weary.

“Musar, Alzalam and Dismas” Obi said in a flash, startling each of them.

“Musar?” Alzalam emphasized in his accent. The gentle inquiry caught the bounty hunter off guard, Musar cleared his throat and shifted his weight.

“Muzarib” Musar spoke in his native Arabic tongue.

“MuZAHrib?” Dismas and Viara asked in unison.

“Musar will do” the bounty hunter grunted.

“Assalamu alaikum” Alzalam said, smiling as he outstretched his hand in greeting.

“Wa’ Alaikum-Salaam" Musar reciprocated with obvious trepidation.

“Alzalam al-Din” the magician introduced himself properly to Musar.

“Very good, now we know our names AGAIN, can we please prepare” Obi stated rather than asked, breaking the slight awkwardness.

“I’ll get my coat” Dismas did not hesitate to accept the nomination; besides being the most dressed, he felt the least affected by the evening’s events so far and liked to consider himself fair if anything else. They equipped themselves hastily while Viara summoned the caretaker for minor provisions and sent Mr. Drew to tend to the occupants of the sanitarium. Obi refused to weigh them down with too full a pack, insisting this would not be a long trip.

They made off to the weald quickly and found the brigand tracks even quicker. In their haste, the injured troop left more than enough trace for Musar to track along with Alzalam's help in seeing the invisible stain the Hags magic left behind, having created a path to lead the cannon so easily to the hamlet. They traversed onward in a quiet haste, a clear direction making this visit far less treacherous, until the trees became scarcer and an edge to a large clearing grew closer. They paused and turned to one another far enough to remain unseen to the raised voices they heard beyond the tree line. With silent hand gestures Musar and Dismas set off to scout the left and right of the encampment to assess how many remaining enemies they would have to face.

Dismas followed two voices, making sure to keep a safe distance until he had a proper visual. His keen eyes focused on Vvulf and a second figure, a woman of the most grotesque form, a giantess that stood as tall and as wide as Vvulf himself. The macabre antlered skull of an unknown ruminant beast functioned as a headdress that made her already pointed face less human. Her skin was pock marked and littered with boils, some ruptured and leaking into deep scars that were strewn about her visible skin. Her exposed arms had precisely cut chunks missing, most likely if self-inflicted.

Dismas heard but couldn’t comprehend the conversation they were having; he was transfixed on what activity currently occupied the Hag. Between she and Vvulf stood a small table covered by a fleshy mass that Dismas couldn’t recognize. He watched horrified as she slammed down on the pile with a giant meat tenderizer, snapping unseen parts and decided he would prefer to remain ignorant of the foreign meats’ identity. Muscles and sinew jiggled and squelched, blood and various liquids splashed and spattered the general area. She jerked it about the table and dug her fingers into it, pulling out several small bones. The Hag popped a couple into her mouth to grind down, spitting out a paste to rub into mass of flesh. Some of the mystery meat swayed limp off the table, making the thief nauseous when parts fell to the ground with a sickening splat.

The Hag took up the battered wad from the damp earth and without hesitation started to masticate the fistful of tissue. Dismas covered his mouth with his scarf, watching viscous fluids run down her grisly chins as her long tongue lapped at it, her mouth agape. She gnawed and gnawed, swallowing the chunk whole, knocking on her chest to bring up several wet burps, gulping back bile. Trying to suppress the urge to vomit became herculean when the smell, of what he was sure was her breath, managed to waft toward him. She reached into a small pouch hanging from around her waist and her bloated hand removed a fistful of unknown powder that she began to vigorously rub into the unidentifiable flesh heap. Dismas had to back away even at the risk of being heard as a new layer of effluvia permeated the general vicinity of his two monstrous adversaries. The weird meat began to fizz and sizzle the harder she rubbed. She leaned down and chomped on it, breaking the surface, and slurping at the puss that leaked from her puncture wounds. She tore away at it and belched deep from her belly after swallowing the lump whole.

“Enough of your madness woman!” Vvulf growled, swiping his huge arm across the table, sending her organ pile toward the tree line. Seeing it soar through the air, some parts catching the wind and unraveling, turned his stomach but when it landed only feet away from him and its putrid ichor splattered across his thigh, he couldn’t bear the stench. Dismas stumbled backward dry heaving with no regard to the various dried foliage that snapped and rustled beneath his feet. He loudly choked and coughed, fighting down the acid in his throat and absolutely blew their ambush, unleashing chaos.

The heads of both villains snapped in Dismas’ direction, zeroing in on him. The terror from their sudden focus went up his body like chain lightning and his knee jerk reaction was a shot at the Hag, nicking her arm.

“TRAITOR!!” The barely phased Hag raged at Vvulf, her voice high-pitched and guttural, choking on saliva. She backhanded Vvulf with her huge flabby arm away from her simple table and turned to Dismas. Beyond her general appearance, the speed at which she moved her vast dimensions is what truly terrified him. In two or three strides she stood before him, meat tenderizer held high above her head, the highwayman struck dumb by her velocity. Suddenly from behind, an equally massive form slammed into the Hag, sending her tumbling several feet backwards. Dismas began to frantically load his gun realizing with relief it was Obi that intercepted her.

“Go to the magician!!” Obi shouted over his shoulder as he faced the growling Hag, the two sizing each other up. Snapped back to reality Dismas made it into the clearing where he and his teammates were grossly outnumbered. He could see Musar weaving in and out of a crackling cloud of smoke surrounding him and his enemies, while Alzalam was being set upon by two brigands, the magician at the greater disadvantage. Before Dismas could race to Alzalam's aid, Vvulf stepped between them, the brigand master now coming in terrifyingly close. The highwayman took a deep breath and time slowed, giving him enough time to shoot down the brigand that aimed his pistol at Alzalam. Dismas immediately drew his blade and turned to face Vvulf who hadn’t paused his advance toward him, his pace leaving the thief no time to reload.

Vvulf crouched like a stalking predator and his pupils dilated as he homed in on Dismas, chilling him to his core. Vvulf's pounce was too slow for the smaller mans’ agility and Dismas tumbled effortlessly out of the giants’ path as his shield slammed into the ground, sending dirt in all directions. Just like the awful Hag, Vvulf was terrifyingly swift for so large a person, leaving Dismas no time for offense. The swings from his massive shield were easy enough to keep away from until Vvulf went in for a bare-knuckled punch. The strike was quicker without the enormous shield, but Dismas remained fleet footed enough to parry the blow. He started to fear it only a matter of time before Vvulf connected and got that one good hit in, the only one he would need to knock Dismas completely out. The other challenge was Vvulfs’ rugged equipment, leaving very few locations on his body exposed enough for a decent strike.

Suddenly Obi and the Hag stumbled into Vvulf, their blind grapple a danger to any around them. Dismas dodged the enormous flailing limbs and Vvulf being absorbed into their scuffle, left him free to aid the others. He raced toward his allies, trying to load the pistol in his shaky hands, the hostile humidity of the place filling his chest. A brigand had pinned Alzalam up against a tree trying to drive a dagger into his throat, the floating skull laying near them, flame still burning in the soft dirt.

“FM'LATGH, GRAH'N” the occultist's many distorted voices shouted in the brigand's face. The man immediately let go of him, his screams muffled as he pressed his hands to his face. Alzalam tried to catch his breath, his earlier dark miracles having siphoned a great deal of his energy and even this small curse was draining. Dismas helped steady Alzalam by the arm, both turning to the brigand as his histrionics intensified. Dismas’ heart immediately shuddered with a familiar fear watching a tall fungal monstrosity wrestle with the weakened enemy. The creature had managed to grip the mans’ lower jaw and brought him to his knees. The beast quickly separated the mans’ jaw from his head and snapped his neck.

The foul thing knelt beside the mangled brigand and began to vibrate, engulfing itself and the poor soul in a cloud of spores. The thief and magician ran back into the clearing away from the miasma radiating from the horrid fungal abnormality and whatever disturbing thing it was doing with the body.

Obi, Vvulf and the Hag were engrossed in their own melee, so Dismas and Alzalam rushed toward Musar. The bounty hunter managed to dispose of two of the five brigands he had ambushed in the commotion and left one maimed on the ground. Bruised, bleeding and shot twice while still outnumbered, he masterfully combatted his two remaining enemies, though he would not last much longer absorbing too many more blows.

“PH’NGLUI SYHA’H UAAAH!!” Alzalams’ hundred voices aimed their maledictions at one of Musars assailants and a glowing red circular glyph, with runes and words of an ancient tongue flashed across the mans’ chest. The brigand froze as if ice ran down his back and tried to catch his breath, clutching at his heart. Musar saw the opening, the brigand almost offering his chest to him, and swung his axe down with such force the blade could no longer be seen, embedded entirely in the mans’ torso. Dismas dispatched of the final brigand grunt with a clean shot to the head passed Musars head, his helmets' veil rustling.

“That was only a hair and some air” the bounty hunter shouted at Dismas and his impeccable shot.

“Aw see, I knew there was something between us” Dismas mocked while he reloaded.

A piercing screech rang out that sent chills up their spines and the three turned to face the scuffle between the giant trio. The Hag stumbled trying to stabilize herself, Obi and Vvulf trapped in a deadlock, each struggling to best the other. She squealed again like a toad, the inhumane sound disturbing them. The monstress Hag reached into another larger pouch from her waist and threw a fistful of dust into the air. Repulsed, they backed away from the lingering mist that hovered before her. Suddenly from the trees a rustling and moaning could be heard coming closer until three humanoid fungal abominations moved like zombies toward the spores that hovered.

“How fascinating. What has she used to summon them?” Alzalam said and Dismas was instantly reminded of another certain scholar’s loss of perspective in the middle of a fight for their lives.

“Please not now and please don’t- “Dismas tried to ask he take no steps, knowing movement attracts these beasts but Musar had already rushed the creature closest to him, instantly initiating combat with the unnatural brute. The Hag suddenly threw a small bottle of liquid at the ground in front of Dismas and Alzalam, fumes snaking upward from the small sizzling pool before joining the titanic fray once more. The various toxic fumes floating in the air alerted and directed the tall fungus things toward the two men.

Alzalam took the first blow, still too drained having used his abilities with such force. Once more Dismas tried to stop Alzalam’s assailant but before he could shoot, his own enemy blitzed him. He wasn’t quick enough to counter but moved with the blow as gracefully and controlled as he could. The beast made no pause and quickly had Dismas on the defensive, using the entire space to avoid all contact with the dusty monsters. Dismas leapt backward and was suddenly up against Alzalam, stuck back-to-back as if magnetized. Their respective enemies paused several feet before them, their senses thrown off by the sudden stillness.

“Can they- “Alzalam attempted to ask Dismas from over his shoulder, Dismas only then remembering the beasts’ reactivity to sound.

“Move!” Dismas shouted and threw him and Alzalam out of the path of their triggered foes. They comedically collided and were perfectly placed for Alzalam to strike. He stood and summoned forth with his remaining strength three fearsome tentacles from the air above them, whipping the two ghoulish humanoid things. One took the brunt of the attack and the soft giant mushroom that functioned as its head was cleaved in two, sending it tumbling to the ground. The second was stunned from the blow and Dismas lunged at it, taking the chance, sending it fumbling onto its back. Alzalam dropped to his knees, his macabre tools’ flame glowing dimly as he held it close to his chest.

“Fy’nah yajgude...Not yet” Dismas heard a deep hollow voice growl from the occultist and was certain it was not Alzalams’ own utterance. He stood but as if hoisted by some invisible force rather than his own energy, the flame from the skulls candle burning an eerie pink now.

“Dismas!” Musar struggled to shout. Dismas turned toward his name and without hesitation immediately rushed the fungus atrocity that was choking the kneeling bounty hunter. His feet pounded against the earth in his sprint to make sure the creature did not spew its spores all over his comrade. Dismas vaulted with his knee raised and collided with the monsters’ side, the two rolling away from Musar.

The bounty hunter rose, more furious than shaken and threw off his helmet, its veil powdered with the organic dust. He collected his axe and dashed to the fallen creature, hacking deep into it before it could stand. Musar suddenly bent over, hands to his knees and vomited, having inhaled some small amount of the strange fungal residue.

“Help the general, I’ll tend to Musar” Alzalam croaked hoarsely at Dismas as he attempted to assist him when Musar called out again through his hacking, pointing toward the tree line. The fumbling abomination that had smothered one of the brigands with itself came swiping into the clearing. Dismas shot and in his surprised haste missed the dizzy creature as it raced toward them. Before either could react a giant slab of metal soared with alarming speed at the incoming monster, pinning it to the earth with such force, the thing instantly split in two. Realizing it was Vvulf’s shield they turned to the three titans still at war.

It was almost mesmerizing to watch the trio dodge and trade blows amongst each other, graceful dance partners stepping into the other's space as they moved, strike matching strike. Vvulf, now disarmed, shifted to the defensive and his two enemies took advantage. Obi came down on the mans’ shoulder with his mace, jumping away as the Hag swung upward from the side, aiming for anyone. Vvulf, dizzied from Obi’s attack, absorbed the entirety of the Hags mallet uppercut with his face. He staggered backward, miraculously remaining on his feet before taking a knee, trying to shake the spots flashing before his eyes.

Alzalam headed for Musar as quickly as he could with a small flask of water in hand while Dismas loaded his pistol with practiced haste. He watched the steady combat between his ally and their two enemies with intense focus, watching it unfold quicker than he could choose who to shoot. The Hags' attention shifted to the wounded brigand leader, so Obi paused, allowing the enemy of his enemy to attack. The Hag hoisted Vvuvlf, and he punched her in the face as she brought him close. Her vice grip remained unbroken and to all their horror she heaved and somehow induced vomit. Her bile and ichor coated Vvufls face, and he began to choke and swing violently at her as his skin sizzled. After absorbing several frenzied blows, she released him, holding her own face now after Vvulfs’ berserker blitz, brigand leader falling to the ground. Obi made his move.

He hurled his shield at her, a lethal discus that collided with her shoulder, dislocating it. She screeched up at the sky and furiously stomped on the back of Vvulfs neck, snapping it before diving at the ground behind her. She parted the filthy contents of the unknown body of water that had been camouflaged by a thick layer of algae, giving it the appearance of solid green earth, and was gone. The algae slowly came together, the thick water becoming still and secret once more.

The party gathered at Vvulfs’ body and Musar flipped him over with his foot, each of them recoiling simultaneously. Vvulfs head had been almost completely coated in the now viscous liquid and the tender parts of half his face had been eaten away by the corrosive retch. Alzalam crouched near the body, drew the ornate dagger from his belt and repulsed the rest of the party as he cleanly sliced flesh from Vvulfs head

“By the gods” Obi grimaced at the scholar as he watched the sliced meat falling gingerly into a small pouch the occultist produced from his robes.

“My apologies but a sample must be harvested. I’m told you have an exceptional physician amongst you whom I would study this with as soon as possible” Alzalam stated casually as if his request was meeting Perimede for tea. Dismas couldn’t help but smirk imagining her elation at receiving such a specimen.

Chapter Text

Reynauld woke to a humming pain in his thigh, confused at first until the memory of the night prior brought his room into focus. The raging fire, the invading enemy...and him.

‘You. Are. MADDENING!’ he could hear the memory of his rage clearly in his mind. Reynauld took a deep breath, hoping to exhale the regret from his chest.

Golden light poured in from the window and he guessed he had slept most of the day away. Abandoning his bed, he stepped into the welcoming patch of sun, trying to ignore the sting of his own words. Most of what he said to Dismas he wished he hadn't and most of him wished he had said more. He dressed, glad for the murmuring he could hear outside the walls of his room, ready to throw himself into any mindless work he could. He checked his bandages one last time and found them pristine, Perimede's stitch work a credit to her skill.

While the sun still flooded the nave of the abbey, he helped shift some of the shattered pews out of the way while saving anything with its structural integrity intact.

“My son, you must rest and soothe your wounds” the injured prior insisted as Reynauld threw various parts of a crushed confession booth onto a large mound of rubble.

“Forgive me prior but my body remains able” he said throwing more wood onto a dwindling pile, townsfolk ushering debris outside for burning or salvage.

“Your devotion is moving Reynauld, one would think you should have been a priest instead of a soldier. Though I am certain you have made your family extraordinarily proud.” the prior said fondly. The innocent praise echoed in Reynauld's mind, and he remembered his father.

“Absolutely not. You spend more time studying the verses and combat than you do on your future.”

“My future or the one you chose for me?” Reynauld said slowly.

“You would do well to guard such a tongue behind your teeth. Our family have been caretakers of this land for generations, and I will not have it snuffed out at the whims of some crazed Arch Mother and her ‘holy war’.”

“But you taught me piety for the Flame was worthy and that a soldier's way was honorable and showed true servitude to-” Reynauld tried to say.

“YOUR SERVITUDE...is first and foremost to this family” his father's voice went from savage to soft.

“The priests say I have a connection to the Flame and that we can truly benefit from-”

“Reynauld please, these priests are selling the glory of war to young fools and the bishop flatters you for our name. Who better to ride behind than the son of a noble. All they would need is you and the towns menfolk would follow” his father's voice grew louder as Reynauld continued to argue.

“And would it be so terrible if these men believe in me as a leader?” Reynauld tried to surmount his indignation.

“You forget yourself child” his father menacingly chuckled, massaging his forehead.

“I have sense enough to not be so easily deceived by the churches propaganda” Reynauld defended himself.

“Or you’ve taken leave of your senses all together” he growled.

“I believe I can make a true difference in the world fighting for the Light, wielding the Flame”

“And the difference I’d like you to make is wielding your manhood until you produce an heir!” the older man yelled.

“Father, I see no pride in pandering to traditions or joining the nobility while they hide behind you”

“You dare?!” his father stood abruptly and stepped toward Reynauld who immediately knelt.

“My lord please, this way of life…these binds...I don’t think- “Reynauld began to plead on bended knee, hushed by a swift cuff from his father.

“Silence boy! You will be married before spring and by this winter I will see your wife fat with child or so help me god Reynauld I will plant a seed in her myself!”

Reynauld left the abbey after most of the larger scrap was cleared and went to lend a hand to the rest of the hamlet and its many injuries. Luckily, most of the damage was to the facades of buildings, excluding the destroyed main gate. The townsfolk however sustained far more lasting harm. Several had been killed, woman and children alike, while others were taken into the depths of the weald. Even the Mother Superior was slain.

There wasn’t more to be done by way of heavy lifting, so he made way to the blacksmith forge to use the baths and check on equipment. The hot bath and fresh clean clothes made him feel lighter and as he waited for the smithy, he noticed a small boy crying and his mother trying to gently console him while she herself fought back tears.

“Your father will be back my dove, I’m certain of it” she tried to convince them both.

“But why did he leave?” the boy sobbed into her bosom. Reynauld could see the grief that threatened to burst from her as she struggled to find any answer that wouldn’t cut her child deeper. He didn’t know if this man had left voluntarily or was taken in the attack, but the truer scenario was of no consequence. Memories flooded and fogged his mind and he saw her face in this woman’s.

“It's all so sudden, they need you so soon?” she asked Reynauld as he hastily collected belongings from all about the room.

“You’ve heard what's been happening, the enemy encroaches upon us” Reynauld explained without pause in his packing.

“Will we be safe here? Without you?” she asked while helping him fold what could be folded, making neat piles to be easily stored.

“Better here than Astrakhan and you have the whole town to rely on. I taught the men to fight myself and I’d like to make sure they are never needed to protect you. That is why I leave for the front.”

“But...you promised your father tha-” she tried to say.

“That man was more selfish and cruel than you know. I will not have him make posthumous decisions for me. I will not sit idly by while war wages”

“Your mother Reynauld, she wouldn’t have-”

“Rose please”

“It would break her heart if she-” she whispered.

“How could you say that. She hated you for not being Russian and my father tolerated it because you were an aristocrat with a pulse and a womb, and I finally did my familial duty”

“I didn’t know having our son was a matter of duty”

“Rose I’m sorry, you know how I mean it”

“Do I? You kept your sword more company than your son”

“I love him, and I taught him everything I could and everything my father wouldn’t”

“...and me? What was there for me to learn in lieu of love? You ready yourself gladly for war, glad for any reason to leave”

He remembers the pause lingering, the silence palpable, their hearts breaking.

“What will you tell him?” she asked, her eyes welling with tears as she watched their son sleep, blissfully ignorant.

“The truth. I am leaving to make sure this world is safe for you both.” Reynauld finally turned to face her. “Promise me one thing. Let him be who or whatever he wishes. Let him…”

“Love who he wishes?” she finished. “Of course I will. How could I ever want him to feel what we’re feeling now”

After his business with the smithy, he headed for the tavern knowing that hungry or not, he hadn’t eaten all day. Reynauld's meal was a blur, and he lost all concept of time until he noticed the darkened windows in the suddenly crowded tavern. Over the general babble he could suddenly hear Obi and Bastien at the bar, closest to the large pillar his table was tucked behind.

“Bah, you know your money isn’t any good here” he could only hear the brawny bar keep say to his friend.

“Good because I haven’t anymore” the general said, each laughing heartily.

“Truly though, let me give what I can, I’m no better than anyone here” Obi insisted.

“We both know a lie lives there but so be it. You can pay me in tale, yours are worth more to me my friend, let us hear one” Bastien said and Reynauld heard the thud of a tankard on the bar.

“Any requests?” Obi asked chuckling.

“Tell me about the fiercest warrior you’ve ever known” Bastien asked.

“Present company excluded that would go to two men” Obi said into his tankard as he took a sip.

“Can't choose which was the better man? Present company excluded of course” Bastien asked over the sloshing sound of drink filling another cup.

“It would be impossible to choose, they were practically conjoined” Obi explained.

“Who were they?”

“A Greek and an Ethiopian, the names escape my ancient brain. They were soldiers that dueled during several military encounters. When they couldn’t best each other in battle, on multiple occasions, one finally attempted assassination in the night”

“Which was the slyer dog?” Bastien asked

“The Greek” Obi said.

“Bah, snakes dipped in honey. Did the viper fail?”

“Neither died that night but neither left that tent either” the two men laughed.

“Still, what made them so fierce?” Bastien spurred Obi on.

“Love. You see, they learned about one another through a lens of survival with no time for the nonsense that humans often tangle themselves in, and protecting the other became paramount. To see them fight side by side you would think they were of one mind, weaving around one another, letting no one come too close. If the one's spear missed the other's saber finished it. They killed hundreds side by side and so long as it was in the name of the other, they had no regrets.”

“What became of them?”

“They abandoned any responsibility they had to nobility or any official post they had been given and simply...traveled. They took odd jobs here and there, sometimes criminal in nature but never anything immoral. I hired them as muscle for several unsanctioned campaigns before, they were upstanding gentlemen, the Sword and Spear I remember they were called. Would you like to hear about how they got the name Reynauld?” Obi asked, craning his neck to look behind the pillar Reynauld's table was hidden behind. The knight jumped at his name, his knee knocking into the table, spilling the little bit of wine he had left.

“Forgive me, it was not my intention to eaves drop...please excuse me” Reynauld said as he hurriedly wiped up the small spill and left, glad that Obi and Bastien remained silent as he went.

Reynauld stood outside the tavern for a moment and took a long deep breath as he looked up at the moon, a silent guide amongst the darkened heavens. The coming chill of night painfully filled his lungs, and he drew in as much as he could, hoping to burst.

He took his time walking back to the abbey, the story of the two warriors was the only thing on his mind as he went. He knew nothing of these men except that they changed their entire lives for one another and did so unabashedly. He understood too well how the life one is born into can hold like a vice, a suffocating and unrelenting grip. What truly broke Reynauld's heart was that he wasn’t sure how to break free of this version of himself and the past that created it.

Before he knew it, he stood in the shadowy colonnade that surrounded the cloister garden, stunned to see him amongst the fireflies, bathed in moonlight. Reynauld felt excitement rather than his usual panic when Dismas is near and couldn’t tell if Obis’ story had emboldened him somehow or if at this point, he’s simply too tired to fight himself anymore. Either way, Reynauld would not deny this bubbling thrill, would not question the gladness he felt to have found Dismas there. As the wind mysteriously picked up from behind him, he moved forward with it and swore he would be braver, swore that he would finally be himself.

***

Dismas woke just before dusk, having been left to rest after making it back alive from the weald for a second time. The hour left him restless, and he couldn’t lounge alone much longer especially with so little to physically recover from. His mind replayed a specific exchange of words and as much as Dismas told himself he wouldn’t seek out the knight, he shamelessly offered his help to the abbey. He cleaned and tidied mostly, feeling the tiniest bit of guilt as the prior thanked and praised him for helping after his encounter the night before. He was of course happy to help but he knew it wasn’t technically why he came to do so.

After clearing rocks and splintered wood from the cloisters garden beds, he found a stone bench to sit a moment and inhaled deeply from a slim cigar he had brought with him. In a plume of smoke, the fluffy herb helped clear his mind of the weald as the present evening began to eclipse the hamlet. Dismas was entranced by the ombre that colored the heavens above, a burning honey blushed beneath the indigo that slowly blanketed the sunset. He exhaled deeply again and savored the stubborn light's warmth that pushed against the steady dark.

Dismas was gently tugged from his skyward gaze when fireflies began to dance across him, heralding night's arrival. Now beneath an inky blackness it was their light that held him a willing hostage to their twinkling, dwarfing his tiny lantern. Before his body succumbed to a cozy lethargy, he rose from his seat only to be yanked back down, his shirt hem snagged on a jagged corner of the stone bench.

“Shit” he whispered and giggled, irrationally concerned with being heard by the abbey itself. He had torn some part the back of his shirt and with no regard to his surroundings, pulled it off over his head for proper inspection. He chuckled at himself, realizing he could do nothing to repair it and decided to remain a moment longer, enjoying the brisk evening against his bare skin. Dismas sat amongst the smoke and hazy light of a waning moon that suddenly shone through an unravelling veil of clouds. He felt blissful stillness in the comfort of her glow as she stayed the black around her, night having taught him the solace of nothingness.

Dismas closed his eyes as the soft scent of jasmine suddenly engulfed him. He wasn’t sure if there was jasmine even planted in the gardens but turned his face to the sudden breeze, eyes kept shut to further indulge his nose. The moment was naturally fleeting, the wind carrying on as it does though the scent lingered. He decided on one more deep kiss for his little cigar before departing.

“Hello” a deep voice spoke and Dismas didn’t flinch, immediately recognizing the unannounced guest.

“Hello” he heard himself say back to Reynauld as the knight walked out of the shadows of the surrounding colonnade, his black and grey clothing blending him into the dark cloudy atmosphere. Everything Reynauld had on was loose, his open black robe and undershirt hung off his wide shoulders, draping over his broad chest. But even when baggy, he somehow easily filled out his clothes in certain places, those perfect places. Reynauld looked more relaxed than Dismas had ever seen him and was glad the knight was on the mend. The moon's glow illuminated his handsome face and Dismas wouldn’t look away. He was so transported and euphoric, he didn’t flinch when noticing he was still topless, determined to not let this excitement turn to fear while he took him in.

“You aren’t cold? It’s quite chilly tonight” Reynauld said, hating that his genuine concern sounded more like a cliché icebreaker.

“Not really but this is a sure way to catch a cold” Dismas said putting on his shirt. He shifted slightly on the stone bench, making space for Reynauld obvious as he adjusted himself, barely buttoning up. Reynauld sat down and Dismas saw such comfort and relief in Reynauld's face, the knight's growing smile filling his stomach with butterflies.

“Would you like some? Oh sorry, no indulging?” Dismas asked more out of etiquette but couldn’t let the opportunity for a playful invitation pass.

“I can indulge, just maybe next time” Reynauld said smirking wider still, his eyes fixed on Dismas who was glad to see him entertained by the cheeky question.

“Well well, that’s good to know” Dismas said at the chuckling knight. “Surprised you’ve offered up a next time” he added.

“Almost as surprised as I am. However, to be fair I think you indulging in the abbey gardens is more of a surprise” Reynauld jested, his heart fluttering.

“Is it though?” Dismas asked and they both laughed at the truth in the question.

“How's the leg and arm?” the highwayman remembered to ask.

“Healing nicely and they won’t need much time. Perimede honors her vocation, even if she gets more excited than I’d like when stitching skin” Reynauld said, Dismas enjoying the mental image of her with a needle and thread.

“How did she like the ‘sample’ Alzalam brought back for her?” Dismas asked, already smiling at Reynauld's deep but grinning sigh.

“The woman all but squealed at the foul thing” Reynauld said and Dismas laughed out loud. “What in the Light was it?” he asked as the thief quieted himself.

“Melted Vvulf cheek and Hag throw up” Dismas chortled, the horrific memory of the scene doing nothing to spoil the mood, especially seeing Reynauld so humored and repulsed at the same time.

“Are you so unfazed by the weald now?” Reynauld asked the giggly thief.

“It's hard to take mushroom men seriously to be honest, they just look so silly. If it wasn’t for the smell, I’d be entertained watching them stumble about” Dismas shrugged.

“I'm glad you made it back safe” Reynauld said as their laughter tapered off. Dismas took a deep breath as silently as he could, the butterflies exponentially multiplying the more Reynauld smiled. He practically swooned at Reynauld's one dimple and the laugh lines at the corners of his eyes.

“It was strange going out there without you” he boldly confessed, heat rushing to his cheeks.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help” Reynauld said quietly, turning his body completely toward the now bewildered Dismas.

“You were freshly shot in the leg, what good would you have been limping about?” he was surprised by the strange apology and unexpected disappointment on the crusader's face.

“Yes, but since the ruins or maybe since our first night on the old road, I've wanted to...I’ve felt the need to...” Reynauld struggled to keep eye contact.

“It’s difficult for me to express because to be honest this is difficult for me to understand or maybe accept” Reynauld began to explain. “I was governed by many things my entire life and even when I left one life, I ended up being governed still as a soldier. I was taught and trained by schools of thought that adhere to a degree of temperance though hypocritically accepting specific passions. I traveled so long under the Flames’ aegis, and I fear it’s lied to me and then I tried to find myself in letting go of attachments all together but then I think that maybe if...or somehow I could have-”

“Reynauld” Dismas cut off his ramble, resting a hand gently on Reynauld's knee. The touch halted any train of thought and silenced them, each fearing the other could hear how loud their hearts were beating.

“What about your own school of thought? Your own...way of just BEING, you know? Being...you. There is no sin in wanting to be or…having what you want, especially if it isn't hurting anyone else” Dismas said startling himself, his council more introspective now hearing it aloud. He felt a new type of vulnerability, his own thoughts exposing things he himself may have been avoiding but he would not be deterred.

“You are not beholden to anything or anyone in this life if you don’t want to be. Especially to a thief that since the old road and or the ruins may still owe you his life” Dismas said with as much sympathy and humor as he could, hoping his smile could assuage Reynauld's misplaced guilt.

He slowly moved his hand off Reynauld's knee, the knight's silence perhaps a sign he had gone too far until Reynauld swiftly pinned his hand down. Dismas was struck breathless by the gesture and no amount of herb would have been able to stop him from trembling. As he held Dismas’ hand firmly to the bench Reynauld paused, unsure how to accept his kindness. He looked down at how his hand dwarfed Dismas’ and couldn’t help but grin at the sight, braver now because of it.

“You seem to appear before me at the strangest of times” Reynauld said quietly.

“I hope strange timing doesn’t mean bad timing” Dismas said, mimicking Reynauld's whisper. Reynauld smiled thinking about Obi's tale of two warriors and how freely they lived, so inspired that all he could focus on was the man before him.

“No. It is not at all bad timing” Reynauld smiled from ear to ear, something like courage rising in his chest.

“Then I’ll take strange timing over bad timing any day” Dismas was glad to see him amused and blushed when Reynauld took his hand in both of his. The theif held his breath as the crusader leaned toward him.

Their hearts were beating like hummingbird wings, Reynauld's head swam, and Dismas’ skin tingled all over. He straightened his back as Reynauld bent his, both succumbing to the others gravity, their lips tenderly connecting. Dismas tried to catch his breath, but Reynauld was hungry, gentle but hungry. Only until Dismas giggled did their mouths part and he quickly held Reynauld's face close with his free hand seeing the knight pout.

“I’m sorry…” Dismas whispered at the crusader’s kiss swollen lips, blushing crimson. “It tickled” he said tugging on Reynauld's beard. He laughed out loud and held Dismas’ hand to his cheek, savoring its warmth. Reynauld steadied himself and spoke through his fear.

“Is that going to be a problem?” Reynauld asked, heart in his throat. Dismas couldn’t help but smile at this new tenderness painting the knight's cheeks pink and the insinuation of another moment like this occurring in the future was almost lost on him.

“No, not as long as those keep comin’” Dismas winked as he moved toward Reynauld.

“Dismas, sir?” a voice called out in the dark. The two men jumped apart like caught schoolboys, grinning and blushing at one another. Mr. Drew appeared from behind a larger pillar amongst the colonnade with a large lantern and serene expression.

“Forgive my intrusion but her ladyship would like an account of last night's events” the loyal servant spoke quietly, slightly bowing to them both.

“Uh sure yea, be right over” Dismas said clearing his throat, in no way disappointed they had been interrupted, the moment more than he expected. He turned to Reynauld who was standing close behind him.

“I’ll say goodnight” Reynauld spoke softly at Dismas and leaned down ever so slightly before remembering they were not alone.

“And to you Mr. Drew, goodnight” Reynauld added promptly.

“Goodnight” Dismas said, squeezing Reynauld's hand, the knight having yet to let go of him.

As Reynauld watched Dismas disappear into the abbey by the light of Mr. Drew's lantern, he held his hand up to his cheek and cherished the memory of Dismas’ touch.

***

“Come in” Viara said from within her room before Mr. Drew opened the door for Dismas to step through first. She appeared far more settled in than last he was there, more of her belongings organized outside of their packing cases.

“Ah, well hello sir. Seems even though I’ve already caught you, you’re still a hard man to find” she said turning to face him from her vanities cushioned stool, her silken black robes sprawled out at her feet.

“I couldn’t sit still all day, figured I’d help out around town, maybe paint over the notion I'm just a thieving murderer to the townsfolk” Dismas answered casually grinning.

“I see I see. Where was my cunning friend all this time?” she said massaging lotion into her hands from a small crystal jar.

“The smithy-” Dismas tried to say.

“The abbey m’lady” Mr. Drew and Dismas answered her in unison. Dismas turned to glare at the older gentleman who he hadn't realized had remained to light a few more candles about the room.

“And who kept us so busy this chilly evening?” she asked, moving lotion up and down her arms.

“The prior-”

“Sir Reynauld m’lady” Mr. Drew and Dismas once again answered simultaneously, exposing his deception. He felt childish for lying but wanted so bad to have this night to himself a little longer. He further incriminated himself, unable to contain the smile that began to fight its way across his face as a wide eyed Viara gawked at him delightedly.

“That will be all Mr. Drew, thank you” she said softly, handing the man a small parcel of some kind before he left her side.

“Goodnight your ladyship” he bowed to the marchioness. “Sir” he said to Dismas before closing the door behind him, the thief certain Drew was grinning as he left. Viara crossed her legs and sat at attention on her cushioned stool, motioning to her desk chair close by.

“Light it up, we have things to discuss” Viara smiled at him, handing him a small candle and thin cigar from the vanity. He smiled and as much as he wanted to keep this secret, he was grateful to have a confidant to share with. He set the tip ablaze and inhaled deeply, the herbs earthy tang filling the room.

“What is that?” Dismas asked through his hacking cough.

“Alzalam said he bought some when he was in Babylon and some opium but I’m not sure we’ll ever be that stressed to need it” she said just before she herself inhaled as robustly as Dismas.

“What did you want to talk about?” he said catching his breath.

“Oof, that’s nice” she said after combating her own coughing fit. “It’s nothing major. Alzalam thinks my uncle's manor on the hill is the seat of ultimate evil and I want you to come with us tomorrow and poke around. Oh, and we’re probably going into the Ruins the day after tomorrow” she said, gently taking in more from the cigar.

“Ah, thank you for the invite, I hate it. I imagine I don’t have much choice?”

“You imagine correctly” Viara said while holding her breath.

“What does he think is in the manor?” Dismas asked.

“Who knows. Now tell me how much of a wanton slut you’ve been tonight?” she said and the two burst into laughter amidst the growing miasma of smoke.

Chapter Text

The manor on the hill had been reduced to mostly charred ruins years ago, a dead and empty corpse of its once opulent self. They paused at the bottom of the path leading to its imposing doorway, one of the few visible features that remained intact. Dismas turned at the sound of footsteps behind him and Viara.

“Morning” he chimed.

“Ah, good morning Alzalam, thank you for joining us” Viara said, turning to face the scholar.

“Good morning to you both, it is my pleasure to be of assistance” Alzalam bowed at the two, his accent smooth and charming. His facial hair was well manicured, and his skin glowed with a strange youthfulness Dismas became suspicious of. He knew little of this far away stranger except that he is somehow connected to a similar darkness that surrounds the Hamlet. Viara smiled and nodded, motioning them to follow her up the path.

She paused for a moment, her apprehension not linked to fear of her uncle, before he ruined himself and the world around him, he treated her with kindness and even affection. It was her departed husband she resented the manor for, it was in this place she was told she would belong to him, his wife, and his property. She took a deep breath and opened the door, crossing the threshold to the large foyer. Even with the chill of the morning surging through the opened ruins, with virtually no roof and in the light of day, shadows prevailed. Something like death lived there now, a stain on the ruined home, an odd latent malignancy that even fire could not exorcise.

Though mostly rubble, the entryway was still a remarkable sight. The broken skeleton of a large ornate rotunda remained above the atrium; shards of stained glass clung to the wreckage while most of it cracked underfoot down below. The floors above had fallen onto themselves until reaching ground level where the fire had feasted on the pile. The manor itself was a hazard from above and below and any step could be precarious.

“Let's hope these floors hold up” Viara said, looking at the dust and ash coated ground around them. Dismas silently agreed while bringing his scarf up over his nose, wanting to breathe in as little of the air here as he could.

“It is beyond the lower levels I believe we should leave undisturbed...at least for now” Alzalam said, closing his eyes in focus while the highwayman and marchioness turned to one another concerned. Dismas hated the insinuation that something existed in a way underneath the manor that could be disturbed.

“That sounds like a fun trip to look forward to” Dismas deadpanned.

“Disturbing ancient entities under my inheritance, some of my favorite things” Viara said with obvious mock excitement, taking delicate steps forward with Alzalam and his pursed lips in tow. Dismas split to explore the other side alone and was able to rummage through several rooms quickly, most having secure enough flooring for his weight. He collected what legible documents he could, making it as far as the manor and its debris would allow before he turned back, daring none of the staircases he came across.

He found Viara scanning various aged papers next to a giant hole in the floor behind her, Alzalam standing at its’ edge. Dismas could hear him muttering to himself in the same language he would utter during his incantations, making the hair on his neck stand up. Viara looked up from her reading and Dismas silently motioned at Alzalam with his chin. She shrugged, indifferent and handed Dismas specific sheets.

“Shipping logs?” he said after glancing over the pages.

“Yes, I can't believe how plain it's been” she said, handing him smaller pieces of paper.

“These are receipts from a…sea captain” he said while reading on.

“I never thought to get supplies and what not via sea trade since the nearest dock is a mile up the coast, not to mention we-”

“Don’t own a ship or a sea captain?” Dismas finished her thought.

“Exactly! I found letters from a Captain Marsh that I’d like to compare with some journal entries we had collected from the ruins and some that he had left me. I’m certain I’ve read the name before, and it wasn’t ages ago so he still may live. Hopefully, my uncle didn’t sully that partnership as well so we might have easy access to the open seas!” she said enthusiastically.

“Evil stirs beneath this house” Alzalam said walking over to them, his skull familiar suddenly rising from the massive hole behind him, floating gently into his arms as its red glow subsided.

“I am concerned this could become some type of access point” Alzalam explained.

“Access to what?” Dismas asked.

“And for whom?” Viara added. Alzalam hesitated to answer.

“Access to us and as for whom...suffice to say someone or rather...someTHING old, incredibly old, older than I can identify. However, what I can say with certainty is that this hole, is not man made so hopefully its presence is a benign side effect of your uncles’ deeper excavations and that it leads to nowhere. I shall place wards up to conceal it from anything within nonetheless.” Dismas and Viara looked to each other once more, now confused, not sure at all how to respond beyond nodding.

“You spoke of ruins nearby that may hold useful knowledge?” Alzalam asked Viara.

“Yes. My uncle converted the estates large monastery to study astronomy and the arcane, summoning scholars and mystics from all over to learn from. Unfortunately, my uncle never kept anything around too long if it didn’t benefit him” Viara said carefully to the mystic scholar she herself summoned. The parallel was not lost on Alzalam.

“Worry not. I believe your intentions are genuine and I am aware of what a man like the late Marquis is capable of. All knowledge is an impartial tool, used in the spirit of its wielder.” Alzalam said, his face softening.

“Indeed, it is, and we all know how he wielded it.” she said packing away documents she had found.

“I want to prepare to visit the ruins before sunset today, if we must camp, hopefully it’ll be easier to find our way out in the morning light. Now come, this place is giving me a splitting headache” Viara said, making her way to the exit. Alzalam remained by the large opening in the ground and began to chant his strange words at it. Dismas hurried behind Viara as the theurgists magic illuminated the space with its signature red light.

***

“DOCTOR!!” Obi's voice boomed through the fading night outside, shocking Dismas awake. Practically jumping out of his skin, Dismas ran to his room's window facing the hamlet's center.

“PERIMEDE!!” Viara was next to shout out at the top of her lungs in desperation, sprinting at top speed. The tavern was a blur as he leapt over most of the steps and sprinted through the dark to the door.

Once outside Dismas’ heart stopped, a mixture of relief and horror came over him as his friends raced toward the sanitarium, each covered in filth and blood. Alzalam was limp in Obi's arms, his eyes rolled back and mouth muttering incoherently. Reynauld discarded his dented helmet and flung the doors open to let them through, still calling out for Perimede.

As soon as the knight noticed him, he hastened to Dismas.

“Is that your-” Dismas tried to ask.

“No” Reynauld shook his head, trying to catch his breath.

“What-”

“I will explain later, I must wake Junia. I do not think Perimede's medicine can help Alzalam” he spoke quickly and paused at the sound of retching.

“Go to her, she needs you” Reynauld motioned to Viara who was staggering away from the sanitarium, she too spattered with blood. Before he could respond Reynauld was already running toward the abbey, leaving Dismas shook. He hurried to Viaras’ side to steady her as she swayed, tears welling in her manic eyes.

“Is any of this yours?” he asked, fearing her answer.

“No...it...it was...” her chin quivered, her eyes already welling up with tears.

“Let’s get upstairs” Dismas settled the matter.

Mr. Drew met them inside and lit several candelabras in Viara's room with graceful haste while Dismas helped her remove her outer layers. Now closer, Dismas couldn’t tell if it was blood or not, the marks appeared singed at some edges.

“Thank you, Mr. Drew” Viara softly croaked, filling a sleek alabaster basin with water.

“I shall return with warmer water” the loyal servant said as he took the large amphora from her, a nod her only response.

She began to wash her shaking hands and went rigid, her eyes widening with fear looking at the swirling pool turn crimson.

“Viara?” Dismas said, handing her a towel.

“Thank you” she whispered as he stood at a loss for words and action, unsure how to console her. He led her away from the darkened water to her vanity's seat.

“Weed or wine?” he asked with a touch of cheer, moving over to her desk.

“No wine!” she blurted out as soon as he uttered the words. “Forgive me, no wine please,” he inquired no further and carefully stuffed a substantial amount of pungent herb into an ornate meerschaum pipe. Mr. Drew returned with fresh water, his worried gaze fixed on Viara as she placed herself before the basin and its new pristine waters. Dismas smiled at him before the door closed, hoping his strength could somehow seep into the poor man and ease his troubles.

“Let’s get your face clean of it” he said, gently dipping a hand towel into the water for her to wipe away the nights’ horrors from her tear-streaked cheeks.

“There’s hemp wick in the lower left drawer” she instructed, watching Dismas struggling to find something other than a candle to light the pipe's contents. They sat in silence, passing it back and forth several times until she finally spoke.

“It was horrible Dismas” she began. She had calmed considerably but her bloodshot eyes still glistened with fear. “I’ve never felt such...horror and grief. From the depths of ones’ soul Dismas. Nothing was left unexposed. They pull at every part of your mind...every bit they can use against you, everything you ever thought you buried deep enough...” she stopped and brought the pipe to her lips.

“What happened?” he asked gently. Viara took a deep breath and tilted her head back, using gravity to help fight back tears.

“We’d made camp in a library, ‘treasure troves of knowledge’ as Alzalam put it. It was a good find and we secured plenty of paperwork and journals without having to go far or meeting anything but a few mindless beasts. I wasn’t greedy Dismas, I didn’t want anything else and planned to leave once we woke but...” Viara took a moment and ran her fingers through her hair slowly but with enough pressure that he could hear the scratching.

“We were ambushed just before sunup. Luckily, Obi was already awake and geared. It gave us some time to collect ourselves once the attack jolted the rest of us out of sleep”

“Who attacked you?” he asked, unable to bear the suspense. She stared into his eyes, hoping he could read her thoughts to save her from reliving the nights events.

“More like what” she inhaled sharply trying to control herself as her body shook. Dismas took the pipe from her and held her hands in his, leaning close from his seat beside her.

“We don’t have to talk about it now” he tried to soothe her.

“No, it's fine, I’m fine...everything’s fine. It isn't the first time I've pushed bones around” she tried to say with jest.

“You were...gravedigging in the ruins?” Dismas asked about her comment.

“No, you ninny. Someone else has, though not with a pick and spade” Viara inhaled deeply, finding the words. “They were alive Dismas. Living skeletons, bones of undead soldiers and folk walking with purpose, with intention...they were alive again”

“Literal walking skeletons?” Dismas asked, trying to understand.

“Yes”

“Attacked you?”

“Yes” she answered curtly.

“With weapons?” he asked carefully.

“And armor. Old weapons and armor but...weapons and armor none the less” she said. He knew not to put anything past this place and what denizens may call it home, but it made believing her words no less difficult.

“I’m not a madwoman” she said indignant.

“We’ve already seen absurd things that couldn’t possibly exist, I believe you, truly” and he did, it was written and splattered all over her. What terrified him most was that eventually he would believe it the exact same way as she does.

“Did you see how?” his questions born of curiosity but wreathed in apprehension.

“No. They were already 'alive' and amongst the cultist's when we were set upon. But before we settled for camp Alzalam said he could feel the dead's unrest and naturally I barely understood what he meant until he mentioned a necromancer could be the culprit, an occupation I only ever heard in tales from drunks in graveyards”

“You think that’s who leads the cultists?” Dismas also had heard of such dark magic and now feared the cultists may be more organized than they know.

“Who knows. This is the first I’ve heard of this necromancer IF they even exist. I trust in our magician's aptitude for the arcane but he said himself it’s purely speculation.”

“I mean sure he’s guessing but, fighting skeletons sounds like he’s hit the nail on the head” Dismas said.

"Fair enough. Hopefully, we’ve collected enough to figure out what’s going on there and if we can look forward to meeting this necromancer” she said, far more equanimous than before.

“So, what exactly is all over you all?” he finally asked.

“I couldn’t tell you, blood...maybe? One amongst them carried a goblet with an infinite amount of whatever the fuck this is. It just slung it all about, the sprightly little shit” she huffed, moving from grief to anger.

“It looks like it- “Dismas started to say, looking at her filthy clothes.

“Burns? It does. Stings the skin as much as it does the nostrils” she said rubbing her nose with the back of her hand, remembering the feeling far too easily for her liking.

“And Alzalam?” Dismas hated to ask, remembering him in Obi's arms.

“One of them managed to strike him directly in the face and he swallowed some of the liquid. In his state the witches ravaged his mind with their spells, and he became hysterical, raving about this necromancer coming for us all. Then he collapsed and began to convulse, which actually helped. I have no idea why but as he seized, his magics went wild, lashing out in beams and waves of red light, the force of his blasts cracking even the stone. It was the chaos that saved us in the end” she took a moment, determined to not allow her enemies bore further into her mind.

“Reynauld went to get Junia, he said he doesn’t think Alzalam needs just medicine?”

"Heavens knows that’s the truth, they tore at his mind with a fierceness Dismas. I tried to help him, but that’s how they got me too. I saw things...things that...” Viara cut off, wiping the tears from her eyes with trembling hands.

“Yea, seeing horrible shit against our will is definitely not my favorite trend with this place” Dismas pointed out, managing a chuckle from her. “Don’t worry about it now, no need for worries before bed. But maybe a bath first, hmm?” he asked, worried any other questions may break her. Viara nodded and took off the rest of her clothes to adorn a clean silk robe.

He stepped into the hall and silently gasped in surprise; Mr. Drew had been standing outside at the ready.

“Good god” Dismas huffed, rubbing his chest.

“I’ve drawn her ladyship a bath, is she dressed?” he said with no regard to Dismas’ shock.

“Yea, she’s just put her-” he tried to answer but Mr. Drew strode past him into the room to collect the stricken marchioness.

Dismas left Viara in her retainer's capable hands and made his way to the sanitarium.

He stepped into the sterile building and was met with hysterical shouting and rushed toward the sound of cracking lightning. He stopped outside the room when golden light burst outward from the doorway, leaving flecks of glittering light hovering in the hall. Dismas felt the space fill with a quiet peace and the ensuing silence was welcome but nonetheless deafening. He took a deep breath of the fresh flowing air that suddenly surged down the hall from the room.

He paused, listening through the quiet as light footsteps approached before an exhausted Reynauld exited the room.

The knight looked up and Dismas’ heart fluttered at the smile that formed across Reynauld's face.

“Please tell me that was a good thing?” Dismas asked as they approached each other.

“Our skilled healers have saved Alzalam” Reynauld reported.

“I wouldn't mind a little more fodder than that, but by all means though skip to now, Viara already gave me the long short of last night.” Dismas requested.

“Perimede forced several liquids down his throat to induce vomit, then attempted to sedate him with an injection of some kind but his skin was like stone and her needles broke against it. When Junia arrived and began to chant from the verse book, his hysteria worsened though I do not believe it was Alzalam himself that was thrashing about at that point” the crusader obliged.

“All of that should be a surprise but we all know he doesn’t necessarily run on his own steam all the time” Dismas responded, connecting what he’s seen and heard from Alzalam.

“I agree. I do not believe his type of power is within the realm of human capability alone. Even the few feats I’ve managed in the heat of battle are fueled by the Flames connection to me.”

“Does Junia have any idea what he’s 'connected' to?” Dismas asked

“Certainly not to any divine force or essence. She felt a singular entity, dark and ancient inside him that lost control just as Alzalam did. She believes it to be present not by force but perhaps invitation. She dared not try to commune with or exorcise it. Thankfully, our sisters’ blessing of Light was strong enough to have cleansed Alzalams’ mind and pacified whatever he has affixed to his soul” Reynauld said with a smidgen of pride.

“Well, that’s a blessing” Dismas said with no trace of irony, genuinely glad Alzalam was saved and that Junia has the aptitude for such miraculous skills.

“Aye” Reynauld smirked and stepped forward, taking up most of the space between them with his armored mass. Dismas's hear fluttered at the closeness and allowed himself this moment of selfishness amid the less than ideal atmosphere.

“I’m glad you made it back...that is, I'm glad you ALL made it back. I was worried about everyone of course, with the ruins being ya know the ruins and all...crawling with cultists and now skeletons” Dismas stuttered, clearing his throat to stop any nervous rambling before it began. Reynauld grinned at the blushing thief as he tripped over his tongue, beaming knowing he was in Dismas’ thoughts, emboldened to step even closer to him.

“I’m glad to be back. You were in my tho -”

“Sirs” Mr. Drew suddenly appeared down the hall, shocking them both apart.

“This man is bent on giving me a heart attack” Dismas sighed, Reynauld chuckling seeing him jump.

“Yes Drew?” Reynauld inquired as he turned to face the butler, Dismas scowling from behind the knight's broad back.

“His Grace the general requires your presence immediately in the barracks, and her Ladyship has requested yours at the smithy” he said to the two men, standing at attention down the hall.

“We’ve been summoned it seems” Reynauld said, the two making their way over to their statuesque guide.

Once outside they parted ways and as Dismas walked to the smithy, his heart light and smile wide, savoring the warmth from the sunrise breaking over the hamlet. Part of him felt guilty in his happiness after the horrors his friends had just endured but held it close for the very same reason. He couldn’t begin to guess what lay in store for him or this place and would cling onto any iota of happiness that he could.

Chapter Text

After their failed encounter in the ruins, a small unofficial council of the hamlet's more vocal members brought concerns to their marchioness. Viara apologized for the unavoidable spectacle and for being less than forthcoming about the events. The council was not without sympathy in this and credited her consideration for the people and not inciting panic by bringing attention to the problematic truth; the hamlet's repertory was thinning considerably.

Although she would have preferred more rest for everyone, she and Obi agreed that immediate action must be taken lest they appear anything like her uncle, ignoring the plight of the people. Viara sent Obi, Musar, Reynauld and Perimede into the weald for a quick assessment and after several hours the short trip proved a success, though the success itself was only confirmation of their fears. The old and only road remained hazardous with the Hag still at large, leaving the far flung and tucked away Hamlet cut off from trade once more. They managed to scavenge what little supplies and valuables they came across, picking at the bones of a carriage wreckage and several fallen tradesmen before returning at dusk.

“It cannot go on like this much longer, we cannot bring them only more obvious news. They need results and so do we,” Obi spoke mostly to Viara. With Alzalam still unconscious in the sanitarium, seven of the eight gathered in a large room in the currently under construction gambling hall behind the tavern.

“I know, the last thing we need is rebellion” Viara said, crossing her arms in contemplation.

“Or a famine, we’re richer than the soil around here, which is saying something. It's a miracle these people have made anything grow let alone harvest” Dismas added.

“I agree. I have collected several samples from the surrounding grounds and the earth is either too wet or too dry to support most plant life” Perimede seconded. “I found that the closer I approached the weald, the healthier the earth became in strange streaking veins, as if something were siphoning vitality from only our part of the land. It's quite fascinating” Perimede said.

“Fascinating is one word for that” Dismas jested straight faced, sipping from his glass.

“And tiresome is another. She hoards our own resources to bolster herself against us while we twist” Musar grunted, seeming personally harmed somehow.

“All the more reason she must be removed sooner than later. We cannot stop trouble from coming but we do not need to give it a seat at our table” Obi almost snarled. Viara took a deep breath, flattened by now having to decide who to send to do battle with the terrible Hag.

“Alright. What would you suggest?” Viara turned to the general.

“I will not allow her to escape me a second time” he said, emptying his substantial tankard in one gulp. Dismas could see a fury in his eyes, as if something deeper, something beyond the Hag fueled his indignation.

“How are we gonna find her again with Alzalam still out of commission?” Dismas asked.

“Musar is more than able to- “Obi tried to say.

“I'm not going” Musar said flatly, brow furrowed and jaw set. Viara watched him carefully, her head slightly tilted in thought. She waited a tick before continuing, the tense pause thinning the air.

“Fair enough. You only just returned” Viara spoke softly.

“Good” Musar grunted, chugged the rest of his drink and stood up to leave.

“Musar” Viara waited for his footsteps to stop behind her, just before the door. “Please remember we signed a contract. If I wanted you to go tonight…you would have” she said, her voice a silk lined razor. The bounty hunter grunted through his nose and exited the room, the door left wide open.

“I’d like to go and face this Hag, if not to kill her then to raid her stores. I am sure her apothecary must be extensive” a rosy cheeked Perimede chuckled. "Dismas and I did well against her fungal monsters, aye D" she winked at Dismas, slapping him on the shoulder harder than any normal person would.

“Thanks for the nomination” he said, wiping the spilled drink off his chin.

“With all due respect, we should focus on not starving to death while our new home crumbles around us. Perhaps her pantry can be secondary?” Reynauld did his best to present the facts delicately.

“True enough. My oath demands I protect the wellness of the people” Perimede pouted as she spoke but perked suddenly. “However, the pursuit of any knowledge would help me ensure the health of all. I mean fungus naturally has a myriad of healing and scientific properties and how she’s manipulated them is remarkable I mean the possibilities are endless, she merged two distinct species, astronomically different in physical form into a semi functioning semi sentient being, I must know what she’s used in this-" the graverobber interrupted Perimede's passionate rant with a firm grip on her shoulder.

“Love…let's kill her first” Viara cooed at Perimede, gently pinching the doctors’ chin. Perimede nodded and smiled, leaning into Viara, her cheeks no longer red from just the spirit in her glass.

“Any reason is enough, she needs to be removed” Obi slammed his mug down harder than needed. “The road needs to be safe or we’re dead in the water” the usually regal general guzzled down his freshly filled tankard, his brow stern and eyes set forward, stalking some prey they could not see. Dismas cleared his throat, any segue to alter the atmosphere.

“I’ll go, that fungus shit doesn’t get to me much” he said casually, as if accepting an invite to a party, happy to spare Viara from asking him. Any trepidation he harbored was entirely reserved for the Hag, his priority would be her minions, who remained ridiculous to him.

“Your range will be invaluable” Obi nodded at Dismas.

“I think they should go with a bit more defense with Obi preoccupied with the Hag. Maybe if I-'' Reynauld challenged general.

“Nonsense. His agility is perfect for this, as well as the doctor's” Obi commanded, leaving Reynauld thin lipped and silenced by his superior.

“Those things cut easy, and Peri's acid bombs are pretty nasty on their spongey meat” Dismas said to Reynauld more than anyone else, touched knowing that he would so easily try to take his place.

“I would like to help. Should I not do battle then I can keep Obi vital during his trial” Junia said confidently.

“Save your prayers for your comrades priestess” Obi said with less bite, but a warning lingered. Junia shifted uncomfortably in her seat, most at the table shared the sentiment.

“Shall we depart in the morning” Obi stood and looked to Viara for confirmation.

“Should we not formulate a plan of attack first, she may- “ Reynauld once more attempted council with the general.

“Dismas and Junia can stay together while Perimede provides cover from afar. I assure you; I have gone over several strategies, she will not survive this” Obi snapped at the knight, turning back to Viara, awaiting an answer.

“I have no objection” Viara agreed to the departure time.

“Sooner in, sooner out” Dismas added cheerily, trying to lighten the mood, but mostly failing though he managed a smile from the gentle faced sister.

“If you will excuse me, I would like to prepare a ritual to bless our endeavor. The Light will grace our hearts with courage” Junia smiled wide at her comrades.

“I shall pray with you in a moment sister” Reynauld said to her, bowing his head just noticeably so. Junia pressed a hand against her chest and returned the gesture.

“Thank you. The Flame's conviction will sharpen us” she said as she departed.

The general and marchioness began considering provisions while Perimede nodded off in her plush armchair, leaving Reynauld and Dismas alone. The knight met Dismas at the end of the table and stood close, worry plain on his face.

“You know I'm a grown man who’s lived a life of violent crime? You have to trust me out there” Dismas tried to stop Reynauld before he could start, guessing what troubled the man.

“That is not what concerns me, not entirely at least...” he paused and looked over at Viara and Obi. “I worry about how fervent the general is about this. I know we all want her eliminated but the way he has gone on about it at the barracks and even now, it is as if this is a personal vendetta for him. I believe our loss in the ruins has affected his mind more than we can tell” Reynauld said quietly, his unease adding to Dismas’ own anxiety about the expedition.

“He doesn’t seem all that stressed out” Dismas peeked at Obi from over Reynauld's shoulder and immediately ate his words watching Obi speaking to Viara. His reddened eyes shook as he spoke, the substantial bags beneath them betraying their mania, his mind challenging his body's fatigue.

“I don’t mean to compound your worry; I just know what it’s like when one loses themselves in combat” Reynauld's tone was softer but did little to take any weight off of his words.

“I’ll keep an eye out” he said, feigning confidence for both their sakes, not knowing what he could possibly do to control Obi if he went berserk.

***

Obi and the Hag roared from within her dilapidated hut before the two titans crashed through its front door, tearing down that entire side of the dwelling. They stood with surprisingly swift grace and squared up before lunging at each other. They clashed, fist to cuffs, Obi having discarded his mace, shield, breastplate, and pauldrons. Dismas had disarmed the Hag early on with a clean shot to the crude ladle she chose as her weapon. He tore his eyes from their gruesome combat when a fresh monster sprinted out from the tree line directly at Perimede as she tried to bandage her forearm.

Dismas quickly closed in on the fungus creature and with no lull in his speed, slid the rest of the way, kicking the things feet from under it. It collapsed beside him and Perimede straddled the beast, slicing at it with a viciously thin dagger. Obi’s sudden howl drew their attention as he staggered near the giant cauldron the Hag had boiling away. She had shoved him into it and its mystery contents splashed over the general's bare shoulder, his sizzling skin feeding his rage. Obi pulled a burning log from beneath the cauldron and chucked it at the Hag, embers flying in every direction as it struck her square in the chest.

The Hag fell to one knee, choking and gasping for air, smacking at the lingering flames that clung to her chest. Obi ran to her and swung downward, the strike connecting but did nothing to stall her own return attack, uppercutting Obi in the chin. He wobbled backward and swayed where he stood trying to focus his eyes as she rushed him, log raised above her head. Dismas’ shot pierced her hand directly this time and she cried out in a terribly high-pitched screech he didn’t think was humanly possible.

Disarmed, the Hag stunned Obi with a backhand to his injured shoulder and ran full speed at Dismas.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck” Dismas holstered his pistol and could barely draw his blade before the Hag was upon him. She lifted him up by the collar of his coat with both hands and wound up as if about to throw a sack of grain. She barely flinched when Dismas stabbed her shoulder, but Junia made it in time to bash the top of his stuck blade, thwarting the attack. The Hag's throw faltered and Dismas fell short of the pot, giving the sister an opening to unleash a flurry of attacks.

“YOU SHALL PAY FOR YOUR TRANSGRESSIONS AGAINST NATURE!” Junia shouted as she swung and swung, the petite vestal putting the giant Hag on the defensive. Each time her attacks connected, gold electricity sparked and spit outward from her glittering mace, leaving scorch marks on the Hags flabby skin. She finally interrupted the onslaught and grabbed Junia’s weapon, her hand sizzled as she held the vestal still. In a foul display, the Hag punched herself in the belly and threw up at Junia. The vestal released her cudgel in disgust and dodged the liquid clumsily, falling backward in her haste. The Hag moved in on Junia, raising her own mace against her.

“VILLAIN!” Junia shouted, raising an open palm at the Hag. A sudden beam of light tore through the dense canopy and doused the Hag in furious light, burning her face and illuminating the field of battle in a soft glow. The Hag struggled to keep her balance and tried to blink her eyes clear of the dazzling light.

Dismas turned at the sound of thundering footsteps as Obi ran to the Hag and pulled her backward by her hair, her headdress falling away as she this time was shoved at her foul cauldron. She toppled over against it; its contents sloshed across her back before it tipped over entirely. She squealed and shook like a wet dog trying to save her skin from her boiling concoction. The fluid created sizzling pools all over the uneven ground, the smell making them all gag. She rose howling and the two giants clashed again, trading blow after blow, giving Dismas no moment for a clean shot.

Junia rushed over to Perimede who needed no help while she dismembered a struggling fungal brute. He looked on, impressed as she cut with surgical precision at joints, turning the beast into a neat pile in moments. She poured an acid on the large mushroom that acted as its head, and it was only then he noticed two other piles of bubbling abomination nearby.

“This mixture will help with...things! Probably!” she exclaimed to Dismas from afar whilst scooping up fluids in small glass jars.

Obi suddenly fell at Dismas’ feet, struggling to stand against the searing pain from his burning skin. The general growled and swatted Dismas away, his entire arm shaking furiously as he attempted to overcome the pain. Perimede ran to them, frantically searching her satchel for something as the volatile substance began to spread up his neck as if alive. The Hag clawed at her back, her concoction also creeping along her skin like hot magma. Dismas and Junia shared a glance and left Perimede to attend to Obi's wounds against his will.

The thief and vestal stood and shielded their occupied companions at the ready, Dismas’ pistol loaded and Junia's mace back in hand.

“Dismas, can you distract her for a moment?” Junia spoke from the side of her mouth.

“Without her mangling me apart sure” he responded facetiously, never taking his eyes off the Hag.

“Trust me, please” she said, drawing the Lights verse book from her belt.

Dismas took a deep breath and allowed himself to ride the adrenaline-fueled fear surging through him and surprising himself, ran at the Hag at top speed. She stepped forward, licking her lips as Dismas closed in. He skidded to a halt just under her swing, slicing at her arm as he went. The Hag swung again hoping to catch the thief now in her peripheral vision. Dismas moved with the strike but ended up too far away to counter the attack. He shifted his weight and stepped backward gingerly allowing her to get just close enough. Dismas raised his pistol and caught her collarbone pointblank, sending her falling backward into a puddle of her bubbling brew.

“Witch! BY THE LIGHT BE DAMNED!” Junia shouted, her gentle voice not alone, a thundering chorus echoed her words. As she held her mace aloft her eyes went white glaring at the Hag.

In a burst of light, a bolt of golden lightning exploded downward from above them, burning the canopy as it struck the Hag, pushing her into the ground. The reverberating sound was a wall of force, throwing Perimede, Dismas and even Junia backward on their behinds. The highwayman looked around at the lingering flecks of gold twinkling in the air and tried to catch his breath. To their horror and alarm the Hag managed to sit up, still breathing but obviously dazed.

Obi would not waste the moment and walked briskly to her, a light green foam coating his earlier injury dripped down his arm. Once close enough, he slammed the bottom of his foot into the side of her head and once face down he put a knee to her back. His enthusiasm and mad smile disturbed them, Junia even stepped forward as if to stop whatever it is he was about to do. Obi grabbed a fistful of her hair and jammed her face into one of the shallow puddles her tipped cauldron had created, holding her down as she thrashed. The less she struggled, the more his pupils dilated until he sighed in relief, the Hag's body falling limp.

Obi stood up, clapped his hands clean and retrieved his discarded mace. This time Dismas felt compelled to stop him, feeling an atom of sympathy for the Hag, but he dared not interrupt the general's savage determination. In one swift motion, Obi swung down at the back of her head, the others cringing at the crunch and crack of her spine. Junia and Dismas came together as Perimede followed Obi into the Hag’s hut, each most certainly in search of different things.

The general returned with rope and began tying the Hags feet together in intricate knots, tugging here and there to ensure their integrity. The thief and vestal shared a glance and where Dismas expected sympathy if not shock, he found a cold blankness in her face. He wasn’t sure whether to be impressed by her indifference or concerned, knowing how ruthless the pious can be, especially one that can summon lightning.

“Phew! What an embarrassment of riches!” Perimede exclaimed and tripped trying to carry a large satchel she had stuffed with random herbs and objects from all about the Hag’s home.

“Ugh, I don’t even want to know” Dismas said, covering his mouth while backing away from the open bag Perimede held out to proudly show them. His repulsion did nothing to dampen her cheery mood.

“Ah great idea! Bringing her body back for autopsy!” Perimede squealed, noticing Obi preparing their enemy’s corpse.

“You have until tomorrow to do what you wish with her body before I turn it to ash at sunrise” Obi grumbled as he fussed with the ropes, trying to get a comfortable enough hold for the long haul ahead.

“Why not just set her ablaze here?” Dismas asked, confused as to why anyone would want to drag her giant body back with them.

“Dismas please” Perimede lightly gasped.

“I will not leave any part of this demon in her element or near anything comforting. Her dust will be jarred and thrown into the ocean. Besides, the hamlet wants to see results, and so they shall” he barked over his shoulder, slowly making his way out of the clearing, beams of sunlight illuminating the way.

There was a different quiet in the weald and a tranquil breeze meandered gently around this new stillness. Dismas only now noticed how tall the trees were with so much light coming in after so much gloom and smiled when he heard wind rustling through their branches. It would have been picturesque if it wasn’t for the massive carcass his friend was dragging down the airy path.

Chapter Text

The hamlet collectively sighed in relief with the news of the weald's liberation, even the air around the hamlet felt purified and refreshed. As shocking as it was to see Obi drag the bloody and beaten corpse of the Hag into the sanitarium, it did little to inhibit the joy felt by all. Viara decided to monopolize on the high by taking advantage of the Light and Flames coming autumnal holiday, planning for a celebration to honor the feast days and their victory. The people rejoiced and their trust in Viara began to blossom, relieved that more and more she appeared less like her ancestor.

“It's been a good week; everyone is really putting their backs into it” Viara said, taking the thick cigarette from Dismas.

“Especially what’s her face, that warrior woman painted in woad” Dismas rasped, the spicy herd's smoke prickling the back of his throat.

“Ah yes, the fiery haired amazon. Enica? I think its Enica” Viara tried to remember.

“She’s been giving the boys a run for their money, and I think it irks Musar” Dismas said, chuckling at the thought.

“I love the stout little woman that stowed away with the nomad trader, with the scarves and veils. Bastien followed her around for two days trying to make sure she wasn’t stealing anything” Viara laughed through the smoke billowing from her mouth.

“Borte! I can’t tell if she smells bad or not” Dismas said, laughing along with her.

“No don’t, she’s adorable” Viara cackled from her chair, nodding in agreement.

Their laughter settled into a comforting silence, and they watched the inky night sky smother the fiery sunset from her window until a gentle knock at the door brought them back from beyond the haze.

“Come in” Viara said mid yawn.

“Good evening my lady, sir” Mr. Drew greeted them.

“Evening” the two chimed in unison.

“Jinx” Dismas said, pinching Viara quickly on the arm.

“Can I entice you Mr. Drew?” a glassy eyed Viara swatted Dismas’s hand away and offered the lit herb to her retainer.

“Perhaps another time m’lady” the servant chuckled as he collected several garments from her large wardrobe.

“Is Bastien satisfied with the deliveries?” she asked leaning against the windowsill.

“Very much so, it has been a long time since he’s had the kitchen so stocked”

“Excellent. How go preparations for the feast days?” Viara passed the cigarette to Dismas.

“There is quite a buzz. It has been long since the people have properly celebrated anything, even the caretaker seems kinder if you could believe such a thing. Your ladyship has been generous and chose a most auspicious time.” Mr. Drew smiled warmly, laying out specific pieces of clothing across her bed.

“Nonsense, it’s our duty. Part of our position as stewards here is to tend to all the people's needs. Safety and peace should not be some fleeting luxury for them” Viara said, surprising herself and Dismas with the sentiment. He smiled at her scarlet flushed ears.

“Dinner can be ready in one hours' time m’lady” the loyal servant said bowing.

“Please let the others know” she said taking a seat at her vanity. “You’ll join me, won't you?” she spoke to Dismas’ reflection in her mirror.

“I appreciate you asking. Business or pleasure?” he asked.

“Both” she smirked, putting her hair up neatly.

“Well, I'm already scrubbed up, so I’ll go close my eyes for a bit” Dismas said to her in the looking glass as he made his exit.

“I shall fetch you myself sir” Mr. Drew offered and Dismas smiled before shutting the door behind him. He yawned deeply, shaking off the giggly tingle up his neck before noticing a hulking man at his bedroom door down the hall. Reynauld waved timidly, his dust smeared skin glistened with sweat in the dim light of the hall's oil lamps, his grey shirt marked just the same.

“Hey” Dismas croaked, his throat suddenly bone dry, not sure how this man could still be a feast for the eyes covered in dirt.

“It’s been hard to catch you” Reynauld smiled, and Dismas’ lungs clenched. He’s looked for him?

“Well, I hear the abbey is keeping you busy this week” the thief mentioned.

“It is indeed. The prior appreciates the help and with supplies coming in its best to keep the construction momentum going. Junia seems focused on the penance hall, but I would like to discuss with Viara about shifting the work to the barracks. Also, Obi and I think we should be ready for more help that may be coming in since she herself has mentioned trying to find more recruits-” Reynauld cut his rant off and cleared his throat. He shifted awkwardly where he stood, his practiced script unraveled in his mind now that Dismas was so close, sleepy eyed and cheery.

“He tells me he’s glad to have you and Junia, especially since the Mother Superior died” Dismas said thoughtfully, oblivious to how he just implicated himself.

“You came to the abbey and...asked after me?” Reynauld’s smooth tone betrayed his fluttering heart. Dismas went cold having proverbially stepped in it.

“Well, I know the prior loads you up with work like a pack mule and all, so I wanted to just ya know...check in?” Dismas trailed off, not sure where to keep his eyes or how to fudge this.

"The prior never said, why didn’t you mention it?” Reynauld asked, determined not to be coy as he stepped toward the man shrinking before him. Dismas massaged the back of his neck, looking for anything to say other than ‘because all I can think about is kissing again’.

“Oh, you know me, opaque as ever” Dismas deflected, feeling overwhelmingly transparent. Reynauld swallowed hard, steeling his nerves.

“You do not have to be. You can come to me for anything, please remember that” Reynauld said, his declaration thinning the air around them. Dismas knew he couldn’t slink his way out of giving him a straight answer and nor did he want to.

“I will” Dismas looked up at him, a rush of courage eclipsing his fear.

“I promise” he added, determined to keep eye contact. Reyanuld was touched by the small phrase and did nothing to conceal his widening smile.

“You see, I came here to ask..." the knight cleared his throat. "If you’d join me for-” Reynauld tried to say.

“Ah Reynauld, perfect timing!” Viara called out, floating toward them from down the hall, her silk robe billowing in her wake. Dismas sighed deeply, his back still to Viara while Reynauld greeted her over him.

“If you’ve come about Junia I've already told her the barracks are getting repaired before the penance hall can be seen to” she said joining the two men.

“I have indeed discussed it with her. We have the prior on our side in this, so she’s rightfully out voted” Reynauld said and Viara chuckled.

“Indeed...if we were voting. The barracks will be tended to next” her voice was like silk, but the sentiment was final. “What did you need of me?” she asked.

“I uuhh...was wondering about some of the particulars for the holiday” Reynauld lied.

“Then we are of the same mind. We dine in an hour, we can discuss it then” she said to Reynauld, more a command than an invitation.

“Of course,” Reynauld smiled, masking his disappointment far better than Dismas.

“Fabulous” she said, winking at Dismas while gliding down the stairs behind Mr. Drew.

“I suppose I should go clean up” Reynauld said.

“Yea, we’ve got a date” Dismas froze hearing himself. “With Viara. We have a date with Viara. For dinner downstairs” he quickly added, his cheeks flushed pink. Reynauld smirked watching him struggle, knowing all too well how words tend to fail at the most inopportune times. He was resolute and would not be deterred from his original goal.

“I know it may be somewhat unconventional...but we could always you and I, if you were willing to of course, just... us two have dinner.” Reynauld offered, heart in his throat, feeling as though he were wading through chin high water, waves lapping at his gasping lips.

Dismas looked up at the knight, stupefied by his words, mouth agape. He imagined this is what being struck by lightning might feel like, the mind switched off, but the body is left humming, vibrating, every atom electrified by some outside source.

“I understand any apprehension and apologize for putting you on the spot in this way” Reynauld said, his entire body clenched trying to keep from throwing himself down the stairs behind him. The silence prevailed and he turned to make for the steps until Dismas reached for his shoulder.

“NO... I mean...that is, not no to dinner, no to...not having dinner” Dismas fumbled with the words as they fell out of his mouth, a familiar heat rising in his face. Reynauld instantly felt as light as a feather.

“I'm glad” he mustered up. “Let's talk after the festivities this weekend, it’ll be all hands-on deck till then I'm afraid” Reynauld said.

“No yea of course...lots to do” Dismas felt foolish, flattered and faint all at once. Not knowing what to do or say, he attempted to turn to the door to his room, and it happened in an instant. The knights grip on his elbow was firm when he pulled Dismas close, leaned down and stole a kiss. Their lips parted but only just, like magnets struggling desperately to come together again.

“I'll see you at dinner” Reynauld whispered. Dismas nodded, physically unable to speak, all his effort spent on not leaping into Reynauld's brawny arms. He turned without realizing how close he was to his door and slammed into it face first. Once successfully inside Dismas pressed his forehead against the door and finally took a breath, unaware that on the other side the smiling knight was doing the same.

Dinner that evening was a success and brought plans for the coming week into focus and the entire party closer. They shared, debated, and commiserated amongst one another, all ending on happy notes and rosy cheeks before bed.

In tradition to the religious holidays, small groups of acolytes of the Light and Flame roamed the land to spread the word. One such retinue arrived at the hamlet with generous benefaction, offering bundles of wheat, wool, and cotton for the coming cold months. Though the roads were slightly safer than before, they would have never suspected who would be leading this religious band.

“A bishop? What could he be doing here?” Reynauld asked Viara and Dismas.

“Reynauld please, this is an opportunity we can all benefit from” she said from the corner of her mouth, the three stationed at the top of the path leading to the abbey. There was a small procession through the town as the bishop greeted the townsfolks, vestals distributing gifts to the people as they made their way.

“How exactly is his visit beneficial? This place is a mess and I'm not sure how many people should know about your uncles' shenanigans” Dismas asked quietly from behind his scarf.

“Or the effects thereafter” Reynauld added.

“I’ll have no such cynicism. Look how happy the people are, not to mention such substantial gifts” Viara said, a sly smirk cutting across her beautiful face. Dismas could practically see gold glinting in her eyes.

“Ah ha, that’s it then” Dismas smiled.

“What is ‘it’?” Reynauld asked.

“Dismas this is a chance to connect to the people, and what more honorable way than through our shared beliefs?” Viara said with a hint of melodrama, her smile frozen in place.

“Not through his pockets?” Dismas questioned the marchioness.

“Whose pockets?” Reynauld asked, trying to pay attention to the incoming bishop and his cortege.

“No... through the charity in his heart” Viara said, raising her nose in the air and Dismas couldn’t stop from snickering.

“Right right, his heart. Did you plan this?” Dismas asked, obviously amused.

“Plan for this fat a coffer to randomly waltz in here? If only. I almost don’t trust it” Viara said, more to Dismas than Reynauld.

“Do you mean to fleece him?” Reynauld said in surprise, finally having caught on.

“Certainly not” Viara answered quickly, and the knight sighed at the lie, her predatory stare fixed on the jolly bishop.

“Not physically at least” Dismas leaned back to direct it at Reynauld on Viaras other side.

“Excuse you both. As YOU said, my uncle left marks on this land few could fathom so I cannot risk the bishop seeing anything other than piety and grace here. More so, in case YOU haven't noticed, me the marchioness to this place, is currently living above a tavern. So, Reynauld please, we're letting this play out” she said to them both, cutting off the knight as he turned to face her. Reynauld looked away, thin lipped and aggravated, knowing he couldn’t stop any plan she may have anyway.

“That aside, are we going to address the semi shackled half naked and bleeding elephant in the middle of town?” Dismas asked. The bishop arrived with a modest entourage of young vestals and one other man, the two of them standing out for vastly different reasons.

His excellency was chubby but tall, robed in fine silks and furs, bejeweled rings on most fingers while the other was the true sore thumb, literally so. He was bruised and scarcely clothed, a suggestion of a hooded robe hung off his muscular body, torn and filthy. His spiked shackles and collar couldn’t have been more out of place amongst the pristine and tidy vestals, jabbing into him deep enough to break skin and scar alike.

“A bishop?!” Junia harshly whispered as she suddenly appeared at Reynauld's side, tucking her hair into a scarf, adjusting her simple frock obviously having dressed in a hurry.

“I know” Reynauld said, eyes on the incoming group.

“A flagellant as well?! Does he mean to stay with us?” she was obviously shocked. Viara and Dismas turned to the knight and nun.

“Stay?” Viara asked.

“And who?” Dismas added.

“A flagellant represents the third bough of the faith; The Vessel. There are very very few and usually when one is discovered they are sent to the nearest monastery to nurture their...skills. Usually, they take a bodyguard type position for chosen convents, monasteries, or abbeys. Even at the Holy See.” Junia explained.

“Oh great, thank you for nothing” Viara asked, straightening her long velvet coat as the guests finally stood before them.

“Lady Beauffant! I am overcome to be received in such a wonderfully welcoming way” the bishop said to Viara, clasping his hands over his heart.

“We are honored your grace; I only wish I had more time to prepare and show you the hamlet on parade” Viara smiled wide and curtsied.

“Fret not my dear, grim times have fallen on us all and it is precisely why I thought the Vessels Harvest was the perfect time to visit, though we have tried before. The road is quite treacherous, thankfully Peter somehow knew the way” he said, smiling so wide his puffy cheeks all but shut his eyes, the shrouded flagellant lurking beside him.

Dismas was thankful to be excluded from the abbey tour and retired to his room with so little light left in the day. He was startled awake from his deep nap by the sound of shattering glass, certain it came from the only other occupied room upstairs.

Before he could knock Mr. Drew opened the door to Viaras room, passing him by with a nod holding a bundle of shattered glass delicately in his hands.

“So, no more wine?” Dismas remarked at the splatter of burgundy trickling down the wall nearest Viaras desk. She sat motionless staring into the roaring fireplace, the flames the only source of light in the room. Dismas hadn’t noticed Perimede sitting on the bed until she waved.

“Hi!” she said, her cheery disposition strange in the somber atmosphere the flickering fire light created.

“Hey Peri” he said far quieter. “So, I take it we’re not fleecing the bishop?” he asked.

“PRINCE-bishop to be exact” Perimede chimed.

“Please no cheek” Viara groaned, raking her fingers through her hair.

“Fair. Might I know what’s wrong then?” he stepped closer to them.

“Wrong? You mean besides passive aggressively mentioning more than twice my being unmarried and childless and then questioning the legitimacy of my title all together? So, besides that bullshit, generally speaking this is too much attention for my taste. Dealing with the county and the diocese and any form of law asking any kinds of questions is too much right now. We need to lay low. We need to take care of this alone” she shifted, uneasy in her seat.

“Maybe he can be helpful?” Dismas offered.

Viara stood abruptly and stepped to the fireplace, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the mantle. Dismas and Perimede shared concerned glances, they knew little about the laws of the land but could understand Viara's distress. The fewer aware of the hamlet the better.

“It isn't just that” she said as she turned to them but paused when Mr. Drew entered with a new decanter of wine and glasses.

“That will be all for tonight, Drew. Thank you” she said softly.

“Very good m’lady” Mr. Drew said, bowed and left silently.

“You think there's more to it?” Perimede spoke first once the servants’ footsteps disappeared down the hall.

“Yes. He seems far too interested in my dearly departed uncle. He’s already asked if I plan to excavate the manor, which he promptly corrected to ‘renovate.’ Asked if my uncle had sent me any letters, especially any close to when he passed which is far too specific a question. It’s like he knows…but what? How could he know about any letters? Does he know what I know? Does he know I know what I know? Does he even want to know what I know? He must know something” she said more to herself and emptied her new glass of wine in one gulp. Dismas and Perimede once again expressed silent concern to one another, their friend bordering on manic.

“Did your uncle really go that long unnoticed?” Dismas asked.

“I’m sure in some horrid arcane way he was capable of it. Not to mention giving the Hag free reign to fester, a perfect way to cut off most travel to the hamlet and blame it on something else. Anything to keep this place his own little petri dish to fuck around with” she said exasperated.

“Hey! Petri dish!” Perimede exclaimed happily, holding her glass up to Viara. The marchioness smiled meekly but genuinely and unable to withstand Perimedes’ dashing smile, reached over for a gentle clink.

“And how do our abbey residents feel? Dismas asked.

“Reynauld and Junia don’t care at all for the way he kept discussing the manor and the ruins, on top of his ‘suggestions’ for the future of the abbey as if he has some say in any of it” she said taking a seat on her bed beside Perimede. She deflated before their very eyes and rested her head on the doctor's shoulder.

“He could always come down with a mysterious illness” Perimede suggested merrily, nestling her proud nose among Viara golden locks.

“Perimede we can’t kill him. The last thing I want is to take even a single step down my uncle's path” Viara said softly into Perimede neck.

“Yea, a bishop is probably someone people would come looking for” Dismas said though not entirely opposed to the idea. People get sick all the time.

“Ugh I don’t like this one bit. I was hoping we would go unobserved, at least for a bit longer yet” Viara grumbled.

On the last day of the holiday, after a solemn day of prayer, sunset gave way to one huge fete, one last hurrah to celebrate life before the cold dark winter months sap it all away. The night started strong, food and drink stalls stocked to the brim littered the agora, fueling the revelers and went on and on well into the evening. As the merriment settled down and most retired, small pockets of townsfolk were scattered outside and even less dawdled in the tavern.

Sat at the same large table, with friends coming and going, Dismas and Reynauld slowly got nearer and nearer all evening until their knees had eventually connected under the table. Reynauld surprised them both when his hand ended up on Dismas’ leg. The thief would normally hate feeling so breathless but tonight, what made his chest flutter was a thumb gently tracing circles on his knee and he adored that.

“I think I’d like some fresh air, care to join me?” Dismas said, his lips grazing Reynaulds ear.

“Given the hour it’s best you not go alone” Reynauld whispered at Dismas, trying to keep a straight face. They both smiled wide, their mouths sore from the laughter filled evening. Dismas lit a thin cigar with their tables dwindling candle and sauntered outside, ribbons of smoke snaking along behind him.

Once in the shadow of the tavern, Reynauld gracefully swooped in. His muscular arms wrapped easily around the smaller man’s waist from behind and he buried his nose in Dismas’ neck, savoring the scent of his skin. He turned him around and slowly moved his hands up his back as their bodies connected. Dismas leaned into that first long kiss, continuing slowly, knowing they didn’t have to rush in the dark. He smiled hearing Reynauld practically purr, slyly peeking to see his eyes were closed. It was natural, electric, and wonderfully peaceful in his arms and Dismas knew he never wanted to leave that spot. Suddenly, a terrified shriek tore through the silent night.

“Oh my god, are you kidding me!?” the highwayman shouted at the sky. Reyanuld quickly moved Dismas between him and the wall and turned around, listening carefully to discern where it had originated.

“This place really is cursed” Dismas sighed and leaned back.

“Dismas, come” he huffed at him, sprinting toward a second scream and Dismas begrudgingly followed.

Chapter Text

Dismas was certain he would never acclimate to random eruptions of chaos in the middle of the night. The scene he and Reynauld came upon in the abbey was gruesome. In its atrium, two of the bishop's vestals sat crouched in a corner half naked, shaking and hysterical. Before they could ask either anything, a man cried out in pain and there in the aisle was the bishop, naked on his hands and knees crawling toward them.

They rushed to his side and Dismas recoiled when the bishop lifted his head, grasping frantically at the crusader's arms. His face glistened with flowing blood; his eyes having been savagely torn from their sockets.

“Is someone there?!” he whelped. “Sweet Light save me!” he yowled, pulling on any part of the knight his hands could find.

“Who has done this?” Reynauld tried to ask the blubbering holy man, but more screaming soon filled the air. A door to the left of the altar burst open and two other vestals came running down the aisle, covering their nakedness with blood-soaked sheets. The source of their terror soon made himself known.

“Sinners! Pretenders! SINNERS!” the man shouted, his voice hoarse and hysterical.

Dismas and Reynauld froze, shocked by his appearance, equal parts confused and appalled. He was tall but hunched over from the burden of several weights chained to his arms and legs, unfazed by the various daggers protruding from his back. Stranger still, he was half locked in a broken stockade with his free arm unbound and outstretched. In his bloody and open palm, two eyes, most certainly the bishop's bobbed gently, a revolting guide that led the gray skinned destitute.

The men went cold when the plucked eyes suddenly jerked in their direction, locking onto them.

“The dark heart beats again! Evil stirs beneath! The dark heart beats again!” his decayed teeth bared at the ceiling as he shrieked. Reynauld and Dismas looked to each other, the selfsame fear all over them both; they’re unarmed. Reynauld stepped toward the miscreant while stretching his neck and arms, channeling the adrenaline to fury than fear. He took a deep breath feeling the Flames blessing heat his skin, his heart steadied itself and grew loud in his ears.

“Dismas, get the bishop out of here” Reynauld said over his shoulder, eyes never off the deranged vagrant.

“Like hell I'm leaving you with whoever the fuck this is” Dismas said taking a stand next to Reynauld.

“The bishop needs help” the knight said.

“Fuck that, WE need help, no offense your grace” Dismas said to the maimed bishop behind them, startled by the appearance of another, not having heard anyone else come in.

“I’ll take care of him” Perimede said suddenly there, her nightgown and hair disheveled, starting to tend to the groaning bishop's wounds. Dismas looked to the imposing door down the aisle as it slammed shut, watching Viara pull down the large bar across it, locking them in. He had never seen her in such a state, eyes wild, bare feet showing under a heavy night coat as she quickly approached, holding a rifle practically the entire length of her.

“THE CURSED BLOOD RETURNS! DOOM FOLLOWS IN HER WAKE! DOOM! THE CURSED BLOOD RETURNS!” he shrieked at Viara as she took a place next to Dismas.

“Are the others-” Dismas asked her.

“No” she said, taking aim.

“Shouldn't Perimede take- “Reynauld turned to her to say.

She squeezed the trigger, setting off the deafening ring of her first shot. It penetrated the bandages over the man’s eyes and went directly into his skull sending him staggering backward but not off his feet. The horrid man's wraps fell from around his head, exposing two gaping scarred holes where his own eyes should have been, instantly horrifying them. He howled in pain but remained miraculously alive. Wasting no time Viara began to reload her rifle with surprising efficiency and haste not having looked away from her target.

“V we need- “Dismas attempted to say until her gunfire cut him off and filled the space with its violent resonance. The shot missed, giving the frenzied man a moment to collect himself.

“Reynauld, don’t let him leave this building” she told the knight whilst reloading. Junia appeared next, running onto the scene from behind their enemy.

“Another pretender! SHAME AND SIN FILL THIS POISONED HOUSE!!” he yowled at the shocked vestal.

“Silence! Enough of your spurious falsehoods!” Junia shouted. She quickly retrieved a book of the Light from the altar and held it aloft. “May the Lights gospel illuminate your lies!” she cried out and as the pages began to turn and glow, a bolt of shimmering light erupted upward from the madman's feet. He spun completely around to face Junia, her magics having zero effect on him.

“THE THREADS OF DESTINY GUIDE ME YOU LYING WITCH! BY YOUR OWN FRAUDULENT LIGHT BE DAMNED FAILED AND FALLEN SISTER!” he pointed the eyes at her, and glowing red glyphs singed the sleeves of her nightgown as she shielded herself from his curse. Junia gave them an opening and Viara shot him in the back while Reynauld blitzed from behind. With terrifying speed, he swung his arm at the nearby pew without even turning, sending a giant chunk of it hurtling directly at the incoming crusader. Reynauld swiftly stalled to bended knee and raised his shoulder to buffer the collision. The next moments unfolded in quick succession, their collective instincts kicking in.

“REYNAULD!” Dismas left Perimede with the bishop and ran to Reynaulds side.

“PRETENDER!” the hysterical man hollered, red light flashing from the ceiling.

“PERIMEDE!” Viara tackled the doctor away from the injured bishop as one of the abbeys chandeliers came careening down and in a sickening crash, broke him every which way.

“DOOM HAS RETUNRED! THE ELDER GOD WILL CLAIM ITS INVOKER AND BRING RUIN! DOOM HAS RETURNED!” the mad prophet postulated while running into the shadows of the abbey.

“Reynauld find him! He can't do this again!” Viara shouted as she helped Perimede up, Dismas doing the same for Reynauld.

“Again?” Dismas asked in shock.

“I’ll explain later. We must stop him from running rabid in the streets. Junia collect your sisters and Dismas scout the outside perimeter. Perimede...see if he can be saved” she said, rushing in the direction of the insane intruder, Reynauld in tow.

Viara's search and seize efforts were for naught but thankfully they had contained the dreadful event to the abbey. The flagellant Peter took the blame for the screams, citing he was celebrating too passionately the end of the holiday and the hamlet was none the wiser.

The next evening, while still waiting for the bishop's diagnosis, Viara summoned select members of the troupe to the sanitarium, assembling in one of the more secluded rooms of the upper floors.

“Of course, I don’t know him” Viara sucked her teeth at Dismas.

“Well, you mentioned him being here again. Did I sleep through the last time he came around to brutally rip a man's eyes out?” he asked, annoyed more by her irritation. Viara took a slow steady breath, each of them waiting for her to begin.

“One of the few records my uncle sent me was an account of some indigent that came to the hamlet. He would rant on and on to the people about how my uncle would bring death and despair to us all with his dark machinations, claiming to be a prophet. True to form, my uncle tried to kill him several different ways. Obviously, he failed” she said, emptying her wine glass before continuing.

“His journals explain how the prophet began to turn the townsfolk against him and in his own words, rightfully so. Given how my uncle was never fully aware of what he was doing to begin with, he lost control, and all too late did he realize how deep he had delved. As the prophet continued his attempts to expose him, he resorted to less than peaceful methods to keep order amongst the people” Viara said, her face solemn and exhausted. “I don’t know how my uncle stopped him in the end but now that he’s back we can't have this man poisoning the people against us” she said more to herself.

“He foretold your uncle would unleash evil unto the world and no such thing has happened. This man is nothing more than a raving lunatic and I refuse to believe he is clairvoyant in any way, shape or form” Junia argued, with more fervor than necessary.

“You sure about that?” Dismas asked, remembering how the prophet calling her a ‘failed and fallen.’

“The Flame only knows where your ancestor attempted to summon these monstrosities from, but they are at bay for now and our role here is to stop them from advancing. He said nothing new or surprising and we cannot allow him to rouse doubt in us” Reynauld said.

“Hear Hear! This maniac has only affirmed what we already know, we have nothing new to fear. Our concern should be where has he escaped to. We could set up a watch around the hamlet to secure the perimeter and be first to deal with him if spotted” Obi reinforced Reynauld's argument and brought up the more pressing matter.

“I think he made for the ruins, it’s the only thing I can think of that’s in that direction” Dismas replied.

“You said he used some type of arcane art, yes? I could use the top floor of the sanitarium to search for him through the ether. The height would allow me to see a greater distance with my eyes so that I may reach further with my spirit” Alzalam offered his occult expertise.

“Consider the observatory yours, you and Perimede have full access” Viara said to the charming magician.

“Where is she by the way?” Dismas asked.

“She’s been trying to stabilize the bishop all day and told me- ah speak of the devil” Viara said as the plague doctor entered the room. Dismas couldn’t help but stare, a strange melancholy shadowed her classical beauty.

“How is he?” Reynauld asked.

“Dead” she answered casually though her tone was sympathetic. She took her place among them, a mixture of shock and confusion rippled through the group.

“How?” Viara asked, stepping close to her.

“I euthanized him” she said, surprising only two members of the group.

“What?” Viara could only whisper it in disbelief.

“What overcame him in the end?” Alzalam asked, the rest still in the dark.

“Septicemia. The bones could have healed but whatever was on the prophets' hands or whatever tool he used was filthy enough to cause massive infection” Perimede said to the occultist.

“Ah, the spread was too far gone” he said.

“Indeed. He has been hysterical all morning, suffering seizures and fits. Given the wound's proximity to his brain, I am certain it too was infected. He became increasingly disoriented as fever took hold. The only lucid thing he managed to express when I was able to finally sedate him, was wanting to die. More like begged really” Perimede poured herself a glass of wine and gulped it down in one quick motion.

“So, you just obliged him?” Reynauld asked, appalled.

“He asked me to. Multiple times” she said, annoyed at the volume of his voice.

“What was she to do Reynauld?” Alzalam carefully defended the doctor.

“Help him!” he said loudly.

“That is exactly what I did!” Perimede stood up at the table, suddenly fuming. Dismas was taken back by the ferocity in her eyes and her resounding and indignant voice. “I am a doctor that took an oath. An oath to heal people, to help them, to bestow my medicine where I can and mercy when I cannot and that is precisely what I did!” she yelled.

“My love, we cannot simply take lives without considering. We have to explain this somehow now” Viara tried to settle the doctor down.

“It’s quite easy to explain. His injury caused an infection I would have battled for days while he suffered. Death was an inevitability and I spared him a long ugly one. He knew comfort in the end” she said though her tone remained severe.

“It was a mercy Reynauld and I am sure you can agree it weighs heavily on Perimede as it would any proper physician” Alzalam said reassuringly. Reynauld considered her position and knew he couldn’t argue, fully aware of what mercy death can bring.

“Forgive me, I do not presume to know more than-” Reynauld began.

“Good, because none of you do, unless next time any of you would like to offer advice on how to deal with blood poisoning or with broken bones or with brain injury or any other ailment that I am certain most of you know nothing of? Better STILL, next time I need to cut one of you open, we can ALL be there, and it can be one big group activity!” she shouted, standing before them like a scolding schoolteacher, her eyes wild. Her chest fell and rose harshly, her exhales coming out in huffs, none of her was steady. Viara gently put an arm around Perimede and sat her down beside her.

“I'm sorry you had to bear it alone. You did the right thing” she said softly to the doctor.

“Right for her and her oath or for us?” Musar said crossing his arms.

“Musar” Dismas sucked his teeth.

“She did what she had to do and it's over now. At least we can say he went peacefully” Viara said.

“Which is more than he deserved” Junia chimed in, and they all turned to her, utterly bewildered.

“What?” Reynauld asked, brow furrowed in confusion.

“He sinned and so did those vestals turned whores he brought with him. Incestum Reynauld, they broke the code, they sinned against the Light and the Archmother herself the moment they all fell into bed together. They're getting what they deserve” the sister scowled as she spoke her venom.

“Junia, what have you done?” Reynauld asked, suddenly grave.

“You saw the state of them last night, you knew explanations needed to be given and so they were, in confession.” she said intensely.

“What did you do to them?” Reynauld asked her, his eye dead set on the table in front of him.

“Granted them mercy and gave them choices” Junia stood her ground. Reynauld turned to her slowly, tight lipped and furious.

“What did you do with them woman?” Reynauld said slowly through gritted teeth.

“What I am sworn to do. All but one of the four atone with Peter in the penance hall” she said coldly. The knights entire body clenched, his jaw locking in place before he took a long breath and let it go, too tired to do battle with her or himself. He was exhausted by how right she technically was; they broke the rules they chose to live by, and she has every authority to punish the young vestals as canon decrees. As a brother of the Flame, he has no say in a vestals business and can do nothing to stop her.

“To what success do you punish them?” Reynauld sighed and looked away from her.

Junia's severe countenance fractured and or the slightest moment, regret peeked through before vitrifying once more.

“So long as I have authority at the abbey, so granted to me by the Light, I will do what I must. You know the rules and you know the punishments” she hissed at him, unaware of Viara's glare at her mention of ordained authority.

“How dark it is within the house of the Light” Alzalam shot directly at the vestal, his velvety voice adding a seductive edge to his ominous words. Their eyes locked briefly before Junia stood abruptly and left the room in a huff.

“The law is next to come through our gates if we don’t make the first move” Musar said, lifting the strange hush left in the sister's wake.

“And what is it we’re going to say exactly? To the authorities AND to the hamlet” Dismas asked, hoping for an answer more than expecting one. His criminal mind could not conceive of how to deceive an entire town and keep ecclesiastic homicide hidden from authorities.

Deliberation was strange to say the least and, in the end, much to Reynauld's discontent they decided to fake a robbery on the Old Road and would leave the bishop's body with his carriage which they proceeded to wreck. They set the scene best they could, finding a few stray bandits to butcher and scatter about the wreckage as evidence of a struggle. Reynauld insisted they spare the bishop's carriage driver whom, with Perimede's help, they 'safely poisoned' out the night prior to their ruse. They explained two days later when he woke that before the bishop left, he insisted the man stay to be treated.

Late in the evening, after the men had returned from their mission, Viara summoned Junia to her room.

“Thank you Mr. Drew” the marchioness said to him as he led the simple vestal into the room, Viara's back to them both as she sat at her vanity. She lit a thin cigar from the low burning candle nearest her.

“Good evening Junia, please sit” she said, smoke slowly snaking around her.

“I’d rather stand, thank you” she said flatly. Viara smirked at her own reflection, appreciating Junia's new jagged leaf.

“So be it” Viara turned to face her.

“It is rather late, may I ask what is it you require of me?” Junia asked before Viara could speak, the first nail in her proverbial coffin. Viara chose the hour well, hoping to catch her potentially agitated, wanting to glean more knowledge on the ‘failed and fallen’. The cunning noble knew there had to be something behind his ravings, however hysterical they may have been. If her uncle feared him, then he must truly have sight beyond sight.

“First, brava for such a show of conviction, I admire that in a woman. So, I must thank you for tending to the vestals as you did. You will be glad to know you won't have to be put in such a position again now that they will be remaining here...in my charge” Viara said turning back to her mirror, continuing before Junia could respond.

“Second, I believe I've saved us from scandal for the moment and tied up most of the loose ends. All but four” Viara took a moment for a long pull. “Three you currently covet at the abbey, and I want to be quite certain this entire fiasco will remain contained” she explained quietly.

“The vestals won't be a problem I can assure you” Junia answered.

“Excellent. Thank you for indulging me”

“Of course...however might I ask that you leave me to deal with matters concerning the sisters at the abbey” Junia said, anxious but determined. Viara turned slowly, hoping to unravel her further.

“You may not ask” Viara said, smiling wide. “I will deal with any and all matters of the hamlet as I see fit, including the abbey and its inhabitants...ALL of its inhabitants” she finished, still smiling.

"I am not sure you understand my position, or the authority that- “Junia began confidently but Viaras sudden and loud cackling cut her off.

“Your position? Dear sister, I am afraid you have misunderstood your place here and more so, you have misunderstood mine” Viara said softly.

“I am well aware of your status within our hierarchal society, but we are not in a ballroom and within MY realm, I hold a certain rank and office. I would please ask you show me proper regard” Junia's language was intentional, standing her ground against the imposing marchioness.

Viara giggled as she lit the fading ember of her cigarette and sauntered slowly toward the simple vestal, her disarming elegance chipping away at Junia's guard. The dim light could not skew Viara's beauty and her composed grace was suddenly threatening. Junia swallowed hard, torn between seduced and terrified.

“I thought we shared the same goal sister, I'm not entirely sure how this has become about us” Viara said tilting her head to one side. She absolutely set the wheels for this exact interaction in motion with every intention to gather truths from her.

“We are. I seek to cleanse the world of this tragedy you ancestor willfully wrought upon us. That I can do better if left to my own devices and furthermore-” she said, steeling her nerves.

“I have such disdain for repetition sister, and I believe it has been clearly stated. I will be the deciding voice in all matters pertaining to the hamlet” she cut her off and exhaled slowly of the herb, a miasma of smoke encircling them where they stood.

“I cannot help but feel that is highly inappropriate. You could not possibly be aware of the specificities needed for proper worship and conduct with the divine. My-” Junia attempted to continue in her defense.

“Haven't you heard sister? As a marchioness, I have acquired universal knowledge by way of divine intervention” Viara exclaimed happily, as if sharing some fabulous news with her.

“I hardly believe-” Junia tried to get a word in.

“I hardly believe much of any of that bullshit matters. My title, your precious rites, and rituals, all of it seems rather trivial against the plague of evil we are at the center of. Don’t you think?” she said, not waiting for Junia to answer. “You see, I think traditions, most of them at least, are shackles and a colossal waste of time” she chuckled at the vestal.

“The traditions of the Light and Flame are sacred, and I will not have someone like you dictate to me or speak on -” Junia tried to defend her position once more.

“AND WHO EXACTLY...is someone like me?” Viara shouted at the vestal, immediately silencing her, waiting for a response. The women stared at one another a moment, Viara's smile inviting Junia to answer, her gaze daring her to.

“Hear this and take heed sister. The moment those women become a liability I will see to it myself they are buried in the ground…breathing. Given what little text I have read, that particular punishment, is certainly not beyond the Archmother now is it?” Viara asked, her wide unblinking stare became increasingly unsettling.

“I will not be managed by any hand. I am a veteran vestal that has served the Light for more than twenty years and-” she attempted one last stand against the towering noble before her.

“YOUR YEARS...your piety, your LIGHT....they will not shield you from me. You have a place here by the grace of my will and if I see fit, if I feel it is best for all...I will remove you. Remember, I do not and will not worship the Light, it is not in the least beyond me to spill vestal blood...” she leaned in close, “virgin or not.” Her bluff worked and Viara gobbled up the sudden fear in Junia's eyes. She didn’t need confirmation of the vestal's chastity, not immediately denying it was enough and Viara put that card right up her sleeve for later.

“I am no sinner, and your empty threats do noth-” Junia continued her struggle.

“What did you do with the fourth sister Junia?” Viara asked, her eyes boring into the vestal. Junia's breath caught in her chest and fear swelled hot within her.

“I offered her salvation, and she rebuked it” Junia said, trembling at Viara's suddenly feline and predatory features.

“Hmm...wrong answer” Viara said, blowing smoke just passed Junias face, silently waiting.

“She left” the sister finally said, trying desperately to keep reciting the verses in her mind. The marchioness slowly removed the delicate gold pin in her hair up and with eyes still on the vestal, threw it at her vanities candle. With the flame snuffed out, the fireplace was now the only source of light coming from behind Viara, casting her shadow over Junia.

"You’re such a liar” Viara giggled. “Listen, you could have baked her into a pie for all I care, so long as this stays quiet, I won't have to kill anyone. Now, again, one more time, anyone living here...will answer to me. If you feel this is beneath you then by all means, you can return to your- oh that’s right, you never did tell us what temple you hail from...how curious...” Viara smiled wide and returned to her vanity, allowing the silence to smother them.

Junia was at a loss for words and at this point anything could be fodder for the vulpine aristocrat. She turned to leave but froze in place as her hand gripped the knob. A dagger flew from behind her and wedged itself between the door and its frame, just above the crown of her head. As Junia remained still, listening to Viara approach, several strands of hair floated gently down her face.

Viara gripped the dagger above Junia's head and leaned in against her ear, pulling the dagger abruptly from the thick wood.

“Tomorrow night, you will help search for the prophet in the ruins and if you don’t like it, then by all means, you can get the fuck out of my town, now” she whispered into the vestals ear. Viara returned to her vanity and plucked her hairpin from the candle to neatly put her blonde locks back in place.

“I would apologize for the hour but, it doesn’t look like you care much for beauty sleep. You may go, thank you Junia” Viara said as she massaged lotion into her feet and Junia left without another word.

“I hope that wasn’t too disappointing” Viara asked aloud and Reynauld stepped from behind her larger wardrobe at the other end of the room.

“Not entirely, and truth be told, I cannot say I am surprised. Since she arrived, I thought her too young to have left a temple or convent. That is...to have left by choice” Reynauld said, solemn but curious.

“My my, the plot thickens around our own self proclaiming Vestalis Maxima” she half jested and Reynauld couldn’t help but be amused to hear her use such terms, forgetting Viara was a well-educated debutant before she was a wanted criminal.

“I didn’t think you’d question her virtue” he asked.

“I didn’t think she wasn’t going to have any” Viara chuckled but stopped short noticing Reynaulds meek smile.

“Forgive me, I don’t mean to jest and jab at her or the Light and Flame” she said and meant it.

“No need, in fact I should be thankful for the truth. I am here because I began to question my faith. I came hoping that if I could understand true evil, I would know how to define myself against it, an antithesis to it, if that does not sound terribly naïve and self-righteous” he said more to himself.

“I don’t think it is. It speaks volumes when one not only questions the things they hold dear but also themselves” Viara said softly to the vulnerable knight.

“And their past?” Reynauld asked halfheartedly, an icy fear pooling in his belly.

“Especially their past” Viara said, the silence following more melancholy than awkward.

“Imagine defining ones self via some scripture written by man” Reynauld found himself speaking to the floor than to Viara, suddenly embarrassed. Sympathy overwhelmed Viara, knowing all too well how heavy duplicity can weigh on the soul. She desperately tried to find anything to say to him, anything to soothe such old and open wounds.

“There is so little room for oneself within the confines of tradition, especially when bound to it from youth. You’ve done well Reynauld, simply choosing this path means you’re already free, remember that” she stood close and gently gripped his shoulder.

“True enough” he smiled, and his heart swelled with appreciation. “Are you certain about the party for tomorrows mission?” he asked.

“Afraid so. I need our arcanists present and Obi would be best to bring back as much as we can, with Dismas and I present for quick offense. It’s already more people than I would prefer going since the ruins can be rather cramped. Please don’t worry Reynauld, with Alzalam there I’m sure they will be far better defended against the cultists and their monsters” Viara said reassuringly.

Chapter Text

“ALZALAM NO!” Dismas cried out. The occultist swung his dagger at the giant ghoul in vain before the beast slashed across his neck with its’ razor-sharp claws. Alzalam fell over and clutched at his throat as blood spewed from between his fingers. The wretched ghoul felt nothing of Dismas’ bullet and bit down on Alzalams’ torso, tearing flesh and ribs clean from his body. Viara threw a flurry of large syringes that bore into the side of the beasts’ face, their acid burning away at its foul flesh instantly. Obi blitzed, tackling it to the ground, using his shield to pound away at the monstrosities face as he straddled it.

Junia froze, her mace trembling in her hand, nearly dropping her verse book as she tried to recite from it. She fumbled with the words, fear pulsating through every vein and artery, feeling pins and needles in every pore of her skin.

“Help him!” Dismas hollered as he raced to her side, slashing a cultist to ribbons before he could attack her. Junia's widening eyes shook in her head, her mouth mumbled incoherently, horror clawing deeper and deeper into her mind. Dismas knelt by his mangled comrade and put a hand to his neck, trying desperately to stop the bleeding, knowing his other wound too grave for anyone to survive. Part of Alzalam was miraculously still conscious and he gripped Dismas’ arm with surprising force. Dismas became hypnotized by the swirling red glow in the dying man's eyes and for a moment that felt like an eternity, the two were swallowed by the void, darkness blanketing them.

“Be not afraid” multiple distorted voices whispered from the shapeless mass in an alien tongue he knew he shouldn’t have been able to understand. Dismas could never begin to describe such an entity, the elder being bound to Alzalam there before him, instructing him, etching the message into his very being.

“PRESERVE THE FLESH!!” it commanded, suddenly a booming unearthly chorus. Dismas felt the instant compulsion to scream but was petrified by terror, insanity threatening to unravel his mind until reality quickly reformed around them. Red light abruptly flashed from Alzalam's eyes and a howling wind surged outward from around his body knocking only their enemies off their feet.

Obi took advantage of the upset and ended the two nearest witches but could do nothing to stop the third from ramming her broken scepter into Junia's shoulder. Junia cried out, bashing the cultist and sending the two stumbling backward. The foul sorceress opened her bleeding mouth and hissed a curse at the vestal who instantly began to pull at her robes and scream.

“NOOOOO! NO! IT WAS ME! IT IS MINE THIS PUNISHMENT PLEASE!!” Junia's howling filled the room, and she began to strike herself in the head.

“KEEP IT TOGETHER DAMMIT!!” Viara rushed to aid her, struggling to grip the mad women's wrists as she wept and wailed.

The spell was a vice around her mind and visions of her past flashed behind tightly shut eyes. A specter moved in close, skin stretching and pulling, a grotesque flux from one familiar face to another. One of anger, one of fear, one of pain until the face morphed into her own; eyes gone dark and crying black tears. The mirror image opened its mouth and molten gold spilled forth before black tentacles covered in eyes burst from her neck. Junia believed they were real, believed she felt them wrap around her own neck, inching towards her open mouth as she screamed.

“PLEASE TAKE ME INSTEAD! I WATCHED! THE FAULT IS MINE! I FAILED THE FLAME!! ARCHMOTHER PLLEEEEAAAAAASE!!” Junia pulled at Viara as she fell to her knees hindering any attempt to dodge the incoming cultist's swipe. Viara took the slice in stride, the clean gash cut across her chest mostly superficial. She toppled over with Junia twisting at her feet and before the final cultist could close in, Dismas plunged his dagger deep into the brute’s neck. As silence fell over the battlefield, they could only sit and watch in horror as one of their number lay torn asunder while another lay unconscious, mercifully blacking out from sheer terror.

The remaining three were quick to attention as the silence was broken. Shouting could be heard in the distance and the ruin's maze of hallways making it impossible to discern which direction it was coming from.

“We must go. Leave the packs, I will carry the mage, you two collect the sister” Obi said and scooped Alzalam gingerly into his arms. Having barely survived the first night, neither protested, they knew they could not survive another moment.

While Viara tried to rouse Junia, a small gust of wind turned Dismas’ head by the chin. Some distance down the nearest hallway, a faint blue light could be seen hovering high above the ground. The object came into focus and the light slowly blossomed into writhing blue flames, illuminating and snaking around a caged skull. Obi’s sudden grip on his shoulder startled him, turning his attention away from the blue light before he could think anything of it.

“It has been following us from afar since last night” Obi said uncharacteristically hushed. Dismas looked back down the hall but saw only endless darkness. “Another reason not to linger, come” he was swift but quiet, his brow furrowed with a worry that Dismas had never seen in him before, instantly compounding his own.

They thankfully arrived at the hamlet in the early and empty hours of the morning, allowing Obi to stealthily bring Alzalam's wrapped body into the sanitarium while Dismas escorted a groggy Junia to the abbey. Viara approached the only two bodies, other than the blacksmith and baker, that were awake, lingering near the tavern.

“Is it appropriate to say good morning yet?” she asked, her voice quiet but chipper. She smiled casually between Musar and the man she recognized as an agent of the law though his name escaped her. Viara's attention was immediately averted to his large dog which she began to coo at until the beautiful wiry creature walked to where she crouched and curled into her, its tail thumping at the ground beside them.

“Laika” the man said firmly from behind a bushy blonde beard. “It’s that easy aye?” he said, lovingly scratching her behind the ear as she sat beside him once more, tail thumping beginning anew.

“Eh, you know bitches” Musar jested, earning a growl from the hound and stiff jab to the kidney from her master.

“And to what do I owe the pleasure of such a visit, detective Walsh, is it?” she asked, smiling wide, her mind miraculously remembering this stranger.

“William’ll do, I don’t wear that title and I come in peace” he said, his heavy accent charming.

“Peace? For me? My my, last I remember, and forgive me if I misquote, I was deemed ‘An antithesis to peace and order’. At least that’s what I can remember from the wanted posters you and yours posted up and down the entire coastline.” Viara crossed her arms.

“I’m ever so sorry m’lady, I never meant to try and stop a thieving criminal from uproot’n graves and murder’n her own kin” William mocked.

“You should be. It was very inconvenient” Viara said, his voice brining the memories back to her.

“I must say, as shocked as I am to see ya up’n about, since 'your' charred corpse was found about a year ago, I'm more surprised that you’re a grand lady” he took a step back to bow. “The notorious wanted grave-robber known as Audrey is actually none other than the Marchioness Viara Allard Beauffant” he said, holding his chin in thought. “That body looked an awful lot like you, I’d buy ya that tavern to know how ya pulled that off lass”

“Thanks, but I already own it" she deadpanned at William. "I’m tired, why is he here?” Viara growled at Musar, stepping up to the two men, on the brink of unfiltered rage and all-consuming hysteria having only just escaped a horrifying death and witnessing another. This blast from her illicit past was the last thing she needed.

“Look, long story short, he left the force and we need more manpower. I told him what we have going on and he wants to help, and I know he’s good for it, we've worked together in the past” Musar said diplomatically.

“Ah so, YOU knowing is grounds enough to just stroll him in unannounced and most certainly uninvited?” she asked with facetious cheer.

“Hey, you’re not scheduled back till tomorrow morning, and I got tired of letters. I told him to come talk in person and I was going to run it by you before bringing him back” Musar defended his position. Viara glared at him for a tick before turning to William.

“So just like that? Left you life’s work to come all this way to the fringes of civilization to help a criminal you tried to put away and up until recently believed to be dead?” she asked, eyebrows raised to her hairline.

“Listen, I got me reasons and well...I respect what you’re doing” his voice huskier when speaking softly.

“ ‘ukhtaa please, you know we need the help” Musar said with an uncharacteristic softness.

“YOU…have said more than enough” she said harshly, her volume disrupting the silence around them. The compartments of her mind shook and fractured, on the brink.

“I’ll leave ye to think on it” William attempted to say but Viara left before he finished and made for her quarters trembling, Mr. Drew rushing to meet her with a coat.

Dismas gladly gave Junia to the prior and politely asked where Reynauld was, the crusader was the only thing he could see clear enough through the darkness that invaded his mind.

Dismas knocked hard and wrapped his arms around the larger man's waist the moment the door opened. Reynauld could have burst from joy but quickly understood something was amiss as he gently cupped the back of his neck and felt cold clammy skin, sweat lingering in his hair. The knight could feel his stuttered breathing as he held him, shaking from fear.

“Are you hurt?” Reynauld whispered and Dismas could only nod ‘no’. In all technicality that was a complete lie; he’d been cut, punched, jabbed, stabbed, and shoved. Worse still, he feared his psyche had been irreparably harmed, his very senses battered and abused. Dismas pressed his face harder into the nook between Reynaulds shoulder and neck.

The entities words still echoed in his mind no matter how hard he fought it;

“Preserve the flesh”

Dismas had to catch his breath remembering the many voices shouting, the ancient thing writhing with no semblance to anything biological. It was a shape without substance, an eldritch contradiction to matter, and all things natural. He could still feel the chill on his skin from the outer sphere he had spent an infinitesimal and eternal moment in.

Reynauld gently pried the shaken thief off him and held his hands, pained to see them so blood stained.

“…it’s Al’s…it’s all Al’s” Dismas’ lip quivered from fear and heartbreak remembering all parts of that scene. “He’s dead” he answered Reynauld before he asked. The knight knew better than to ask for details, watching Dismas fraying before his very eyes.

“The rest of us made it back in one piece…physically” Dismas said, remembering Junias hysteria.

“I’m sorry, I woke you, I should go, I’m sorry” he was panicked and paranoid noticing Reynauld was half dressed and only then remembering the hour, his manic energy shaking him to the marrow. Reynauld scooped Dismas’ face into his hands before he could make another move and brought him close.

“You are safe. You’re safe and it is over” The knight pressed his forehead to the thief's. Dismas nodded in agreement, too afraid a sob would gobble up any words.

He believed him, he knew he was safe, he knew he had survived the catastrophe, but the cost ensured it was most certainly not over. Dismas could feel the words in his ears, unable to describe the sensation of feeling sound, let alone the memory of one. It touched him, groped his mind, making the memory offensively clear as if the words were freshly uttered.

“You should rest, I can leave you here to- “

“NO. Please, I just need…some noise…some company” Dismas interrupted the knight, the idea of solitary and silent darkness was ice in his veins.

“Ok. Well, it is morning, so how about breakfast?” Reynauld cheerly switched gears, anything to keep this poor man from shattering completely.

“Maybe a bath first” Dismas suggested.

“Do you require company for that as well?” Reynauld jested with a playful wink only half joking.

“Now is when you crack a bad dirty joke?” Dismas cruelly asked, almost hating the prank watching Reynauld's sly grin melting away from embarrassment.

“I’m kidding you fool” he snickered, the laughter blossoming in him, slowly taking up as much space as his grief. Dismas put his arms around Reynauld's neck and buried himself back in the shoulder nook. The knight chuckled, feeling lighter seeing Dismas playful and squeezed him by the waist as tight as he could. The last thing Dismas would recall is slipping gently into the tub, Reynauld promising to be right back with towels.

Dismas heard himself gasp, the sound sparking his consciousness into being. His mind, body and soul were no longer woven together as one, he existed somewhere sunken, unraveling and coming back together, entropy in flux. Dismas questioned his reality; Is he alive? Is he solid? Is he real?

Suddenly Dismas was whole and found himself atop a massive grey sand dune, the air oppressively warm, carrying grains that nipped at the skin. The vast expanse stretched endlessly on all sides, pyramids looming in the distance, spires and obelisks hovered in various degrees of decay, broken chunks floating gently near their original structures. Large onyx prisms were littered high above the region, acting as lightning rods, sporadically being struck, and vibrating with an unsettling om each time. Horror gripped him as he looked beyond the floating crystals at the Acheronian clouds swirling around a massive black hole in the sky, its corona pulsating an ominous crimson glow.

The ground abruptly shook, and he struggled in vain to remain on his feet against the shifting sands. The landslide sent him tumbling down the dune, feeling the sand was more ash than mineral, as hot as the air. The shaking intensified as the ruthless heat invaded his pores and tried to erase all moisture. Winds suddenly surged upward, lifting glowing embers from beneath the ashen sand, another furious element to sear the atmosphere. Howling erupted from the monstrous black hole in the sky, sending out a vicious furor of heated air. Dismas desperately tried to shield his face from the lashing, frantically trying to breathe against the humidity, ash stinging his mouth and nostrils.

The floating prisms suddenly cracked and imploded at once, collapsing into themselves, creating more screaming apertures in the sky, the gale force increasing tenfold.

Dismas couldn’t withstand the push and pull, the heat and pressure forcing him on his hands and knees. As he struggled against the grey ash rising like water around him, a beam of golden light parted the raging heavens, surging downward and around Dismas. He drank deep of the renewed oxygen that surrounded him.

“My friend” a gentle voice echoed in his mind, the howling singularities in the sky still ferocious even within the bounds of this protective light.

The gale abated enough that he could lift his head and there, hovering before him was Alzalam, his body intact and made of light, his long hair flowing like a crown around his head. Alzalam slowly floated to his knees in front of Dismas, his face both sad and relieved seeing the thief.

“Come, while his light still protects you” his warm hands guiding Dismas to his feet. “Speak with me” Alzalam whispered, gently pressing a finger to Dismas’ forehead.

“Shugg syah’h wgah’n” they spoke in unison, Dismas unaware as to how or what he uttered.

“SHUGG SYAH’H WHAH’N!!” the words shocked Reynauld awake, visions of a nightmarish grey desert flashed across his mind as he woke to his own voice reciting the verses. Nature was at her most passionate, thrashing rain and raging thunder shook the windows of the sanitarium, pushing them to their limits. Laikas barking soon joined the cacophony, she and Reynauld having refused to leave Dismas side these passed two days. His heart dropped into his stomach as lightning illuminated the empty bed.

Reynauld knew right away where Dismas had gone, the last day and a half before Perimede sedated him, he ranted and raved about Alzalam's burial. It terrified them to see him refuse to eat and sleep, spending two days drinking till sunup, refusing to be alone in the dark but shunning company in the end, claiming the voices grew too loud.

Reynauld raced into the raging torrent and found Dismas at the far end of the cemetery, his arms raised to the bombastic sky, shouting the phrase at the heavens once more. Reynauld tried to call out to him over the storm as he approached, but an onslaught of wind and rain forced him to a knee to avoid falling over completely. Lightning flashed and for a moment, the rain slowed and even the peals of thunder were quieted. Reynauld watched horrified as a monstrous black sphere slowly descended through the clouds above them, hovering shockingly close. It pulsed and rippled with power, the energy blurring the air around it.

One final deafening blast of lightning came down and struck the open grave in front of Dismas, knocking both he and Reynauld backward several feet. The sky went silent and only the heavy rain persisted, keeping the moment a secret still.

The knight quickly ran to the thief lying motionless, a shattered spade between he and the freshly undone grave.

Reynauld dropped to his knees beside Dismas, taking his head into his hands.

“Dismas! Dismas wake up! Wake up please!” Reynauld said, frantically smacking the thief till he stirred, blinking against the falling rain.

“By the Flame” Reynauld sighed, holding Dismas close a moment.

“Rey...they’re gone...I forgot the words” Dismas muttered, a smile breaking across his face before passing out. Reynauld gathered Dismas in his arms and turned to check the grave, stopping dead in his tracks. Chills ran up his spine seeing Alzalam standing there sopping wet, swaying on his feet, splinters from his coffin stuck in his hair.

“Please lead the way” Alzalam croaked over the steady rain fall, whispers of thunder in the distance. Confused but more concerned for the man he held, Reynauld nodded and hurried to sanitarium, the newly resurrected Alzalam in tow.

Dismas woke slowly, squinting against the light pouring in from the windows. For the first time he could hear birds singing and stretched in his bed until he realized it wasn’t his. As he tried to remember how he got to the sanitarium, he felt a sudden presence approach and footsteps soon joined until Alzalam appeared in the doorway. Visions of ash and storms came back to him, though muted and faraway. His memories of the last few days were faint and silent, his understanding of what transpired a suggestion.

“May I come in?” he asked softly. Dismas sat up as the occultist approached, sensing something familiar, strange moments on the fringes of his memory.

“How are you feeling?” he asked. It was strange to see him so vital since the last memory Dismas had of the magician was watching him get mauled by a ghoul. He could barely recall anything after the ruins, the grey expanse and ravaging atmosphere of red and black were echos and for this Dismas was grateful.

“Much better” he said, only mildly certain. The silence became awkward, both understanding that something had transpired between them, Alzalam more so.

“First, you have my sincerest apologies. I would have never asked you to go through what you did on my behalf. Beyond that, you have my eternal gratitude and my thanks” Alzalam said as he gracefully bowed and Dismas blushed at the elegant scholars’ moment of deference.

“No hard feelings, I honestly can’t remember much” he smiled and shrugged at the half truth. He knew he and Alzalam had met somewhere beyond this world, knew that they spoke an ancient invocation together that was now irrevocably part of him. Dismas couldn’t deny the faint connection they now shared. Curiosity fed his excitement, but caution reminded him what forever shadows Alzalam al-din.

“I should be thanking you for saving me from wherever we were” he said, trying to bow his head from his mostly horizontal position.

“Ah, that credit is mainly owed to him” Alzalam smiled, nodding at something to Dismas’ right, now making it obvious why the occultist had been whispering the entire time. Reynauld was fast asleep in the armchair beside the bed, filthy and drooling. “His blessing helped me find you” Alzalam said, gently squeezing Dismas’ hand, the thief still staring at Reynauld.

“Rest my friend” the scholar smiled fondly before practically gliding out of the room. Dismas’ eyes tingled and swelled as he watched the sleeping knight, his rhythmic breathing soft and steady, his body at ease.

“Good morning!” Perimede suddenly sang from the doorway. He jumped where he sat and Reynauld shot up from the chair, immediately turning to Dismas. The crusader took a long steady breath before descending upon him, the kiss lasting longer than Dismas could bear, squeezing a tear or two outta him.

“How are you?” Reynauld asked, his smile more adorable framed by his tousled hair and slept on beard.

“Indeed!” Perimede chimed in, now just as close to Dismas. He swatted her hand away as she tried to gently pull his eye lids further apart.

“We must check your vitals” she said happily, trying to inspect him. Dismas gave up and allowed her to poke and prod a moment.

“Can you feel your arms and legs properly? Any vision impairment?”

“Yes, and I can see just fine” Dismas huffed, trying to pull his shirt down while fighting off her icy hands.

“Most important, how is your memory? Do you remember your name? Where you are? Who we are?” she asked, finally letting go, adjusting her simple smock.

“My name and all that yea, but a lot is fuzzy” he answered.

“That's a relief, I was worried a moment I had turned your brain off completely” she chuckled and snorted.

“What?” he asked, unprepared for the answer.

“Oh I had given you WAY more tranquilizer than I intended” she said casually.

“Is that why everything after the ruins but before now is lost to me?” Dismas asked, not sure if he was mad about it or not.

“Probably. I went with a stronger dose since there was an anomalous factor of potential possession and what not. Then I thought could we tranquilize an outside entity if it has attached itself to a physical form? Would the Hag's toxins and other sundries have metaphysical properties to them?! Testing the science with occult tools on the living flesh of a possessed individual could yield so much data!” she said excitedly.

“Which we decided was inappropriate to test on you” Reynauld said to Dismas, Perimede rolled her eyes behind him.

“Anyway! You’re up and at it, well, almost. You can feel your legs, yes? I have a very simple test to-” she asked again.

“Noooope, my legs are fine thank you” Dismas said only semi relieved, bringing his knees to his chest, keeping his toes far from the doctors prying hands.

“Alright” she said crestfallen, tucking a jar of leeches back into her pocket as she left the room.

Chapter Text

“I can't understand why everyone is making such a fuss” Viara said buttoning her long coat, briskly making her way to the carriage, Dismas, Reynauld, Mr. Drew and Perimede in tow.

“You’re going alone is why” Reynauld said.

“Hi, fully grown adult here” Dismas said, pointing to himself.

“I meant the both of you” Reynauld corrected.

“Hi, fully grown battle capable adults here” Viara retorted.

“M’lady, it would be improper to travel with no attendant” Drew chimed in.

“Mr. Drew, I love you endlessly but we’re not even spending the night” she said adjusting the veil on her petite traveling hat. “It’s bad enough having to drop my uncle's name, I can't have them think we're well off enough to still afford servants. Sometimes it can prove effective playing the damsel in distress, though that isn’t too far from the truth these days. Not to mention the man runs a gold refinery right in town” she winked at Reynauld, who could only groan in response.

“Are you going just to rob this Captain Marsh?” he asked.

“Oh, come now, have faith commander” Viara said happily, taking her purse from Mr. Drew as they arrived at the new and improved carriage by the hamlet's gates. “This is a legitimate business enterprise Reynauld. I would like to hire this man, or at least try and see what we can get out of him by way of a boat and crew if he won't sail himself” she explained. Reynauld resigned and followed Dismas to the other side of the carriage.

“Do you know anything about this place?” Reynauld asked.

“Other than the refinery, they fish and make bootleg liquor” he chuckled. “And don’t make that face, a pistol and blade are easy enough to hide so I'm ready for surprises” Dismas said casually, ignoring the knights sigh and stepping half into the carriage.

“With the Flames blessing you won’t need either today” Reynauld said.

“It’s almost adorable how annoying you are. You worry like an old maid, commander” Dismas playfully chided.

“I do no such thing. I just think you should have at least one more person with you”

“Part of being notorious criminals is not getting caught. She and I are the best to get outta somewhere good and fast without worrying about anyone else. We’ll be ok if things go to shit” Dismas said, failing to ease Reynauld's worry.

Surrounded by the buzz from the hamlet's early morning worker bees, Reynauld suddenly wasn't sure how to conduct himself, painfully aware of the eyes on them. He cleared his throat, straightened his back, and stepped toward the carriage.

“Here... it’s just some sandwiches” Reynauld said, handing Dismas a small parcel. “The journey is long, and I think it’s best not to trust the food from strange places or anything on the way for that matter” he said, looking anywhere but at the thief. Dismas smiled wide at the humble gift, cheeks flushed and heart fluttering. To sate himself but keep Reynauld from spontaneously combusting in public, Dismas pulled him close as if to whisper something. From behind his carefully placed hand, he nibbled the knight's ear for a moment before slowly moving away, his teeth gently pulling at Reynauld's earlobe as they went.

“Thank you for the food” Dismas whispered and settled into the carriage. Reynauld closed the door and stood at the open window, rosy cheeked and grinning.

“Be safe” he said to Dismas, now unable to look away from the thief and his sly grin.

“Please use caution m’lady. His lordship never mentioned Captain Marsh in glowing terms” Drew said, opening her door.

“I am the soul of caution and my uncle scarcely used glowing terms about anyone” she said, hoisting herself into the carriage.

“His Lordship spoke of it being a cursed and unfathomable place m’lady” Drew implored.

“Oh, come now, it’s a simple fishing town and what we’ve seen here as of late is unfathomable my dear Mr. Drew. Besides, Dismas and I have traversed dangerous places alone and escaped from many a town with the law or other unsavory types in hot pursuit. I am certain we can hold our own against the queer folk of Innsmouth” Viara said reassuringly.

“And if you can’t then you have these!” Perimede chirped, practically shoving Mr. Drew out of her way. She held up two thin phials in each hand, two blue and two much smaller red ones.

“Remember! These two separately are powerful acids meant for soft tissue, BUT, if they’re mixed, the liquid becomes so corrosive it can break down anything AND anything it does breakdown, turns into an extremely toxic gas, extremely quickly. It spreads at an exponential rate when exposed to oxygen so do NOT stick around. I’m not even sure glass can properly contain it either so don’t bump those around” she chuckled and snorted, proud of her experiments. “These red ones, you drink in case you get caught behind enemy lines and need to kill yourselves quickly and painlessly” she said excitedly behind a toothy smile. Viara stalled a tick, caught off guard by Perimede's extreme provisions.

“I appreciate the effort my love but it’s an old fishing town that we’re seeking aide from, no one said anything about enemy lines” Viara said softly, flattered at the aggressive precautions the doctor took on her behalf.

“That’s what Reynauld said. While he was making Dismas lunch I heard him muttering about how going behind enemy lines like this is dangerous and that the two of you are out of your minds for not bringing more people and that the hamlet would be lost if you don’t make it back and then he said how he would set everything on fire if Dismas didn’t make it back and that-” Perimede tried to go on.

“THANK YOU Perimede, we are all worried about their journey” Reynauld cut her off, suddenly on the other side of the carriage.

“Some more than others” Viara grinned, turning to the highwayman seated beside her. Dismas looked up surprised, cheeks puffed up to their limit.

“You savage” Viara giggled.

“Wa?” Dismas mumbled, still trying to chew the entire half of the sandwich he had in his mouth.

“Promise promise promise to document all effects and reactions?” Perimede begged.

“Of course my dear but I am quite sure I won’t be needing them. I should be away” Viara said, leaning out of the window to kiss Perimede softly on the cheek. The blushing doctor went stiff before practically running to the sanitarium.

“Might as well have shot her through the heart” Dismas snickered.

“Oh please, you should have seen her reaction the first time I kissed another cheek” Viara said and their cackling filling the carriage as the caretaker steered the horses out of the gate.

The journey was longer than expected and when they arrived just before sunset, Viara immediately resented Mr. Drew's warning of the cursed town of Innsmouth. With overcast skies, the sun forsaken town was engulfed in a hushed and fraudulent night. Disjointed buildings with caved in roofs and boarded windows existed amongst the grotesque air of desolation that blanketed every inch of Innsmouth. The cobblestoned roads stretched endlessly into darkened streets lined with shadow blighted homes, deserted hovels that leaned at precarious angles, sinking on soft and rotted foundations. Stranger still, sporadic chimney smoke gave to the assumption of some squalored life persisting amongst the decaying and departed grandeur of select homes.

The inhabitants of Innsmouth were no less damned than the town itself. The people were deformed and subhuman, hairless grey greasy skin, flat faces with unblinking eyes, malformed skulls, and narrow heads with wrinkled and creased necks. They walked awkwardly with stooped shoulders, as if never wholly mastering proper human motor function. They wondered if this was the result of some malady of the blood or, did they actively seek such malign and disgusting transformations.

Besides passing shades in brooding windows, the tavern they had visited was full of patrons at various stages of regression. Unfortunately, Captain Marsh had passed and was the last name they should have dropped, immediately becoming the focus of their ire. They left the pub without incident but were followed the moment they made it up the street and, in an effort to lose them, they themselves became lost amongst the civic degeneration.

Reaching a dead-end street, they had no choice but to creep through the window at the back of a church to get out of sight, one of the few buildings still in relatively good condition. The darkness strained their eyes, the only light provided was seeping through the room's crooked doorframe, barely illuminating the small space.

“Ugh, you would think the smell might not be as bad once off the wet streets. Everything smells so musty and... dead” Viara scowled, the odor was rapidly becoming intolerable.

“Honestly after the weald, I’m not so bothered by bad smells anymore. I don’t mind the scent of the sea, though all the dead fish in the street does spoil it a bit” he said closing the window behind him, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the semidarkness. They froze at the sound of incoming footsteps that luckily passed them by but didn’t go far. They assumed the once orthodox church they slipped into was still being used for worship and ritual once a strange invocation could be heard from the room beyond.

“Oof, that’s giving me chills” Dismas whispered.

“What is?” Viara asked.

“You hear that chanting? Those words, it’s the language Alzalam uses for his magic and what not” Dismas said, shaking off the echoed memories of grey dunes and screaming skies.

“Well, that’s certainly not the most reassuring thing to hear” Viara said, scanning the room.

“See, you shoulda brought Al instead” Dismas snipped, half serious.

“Oh right, how dare I not know this whole town was cursed and overrun with mutant fish frog people” she hissed at him over her shoulder, nagged by the memory of the now valid fuss everyone had made. “And you know what, I thought this would be a nice little break, some bonding and catching up for us” she turned to say.

“Catch up on what? We live down the hall from each-other” his whispering almost inaudible hearing footsteps pass close again.

“To stretch our legs then. My grandmother Violet used to say that sometimes a change is as good as a rest” Viara defended, nose in the air. Dismas couldn’t hold it against her, in fact he thought it would be a welcomed change of pace to visit somewhere new and even mundane.

“I suppose so” Dismas sighed as they looked around the room, its shelf lined walls packed with what appeared to be artifacts and other curios. Even with their limited sight they could see golden diadems and tiaras, necklaces, and rings, all with various gems that pierced the darkness with their prismatic faces and facets. Viara's eyes saw only coin in their unearthly splendor and opened the packs she brought with them.

“You’re joking right?” Dismas said, watching her start to take things off the walls.

“I’m sorry, aren’t you a thief by trade?” she said as she continued to pack things away.

“Yea except when I’m caught and running for my life I sorta stop the stealing part and focus on the running part” he said while helping her add to the bag.

They grabbed at all of it, jewelry, headdress, anything gold. Even the gilded tablets and steles with depictions of strange beings and ancient words were confiscated. The carved reliefs, aquatic in nature and of primitive skill, repeated depictions of some elder god, beyond all record and comprehension. It stirred a primal fear in them, so deep and molecular that one of distinct grotesqueness they refused to even touch.

The door suddenly flew open, flooding the crime scene with light, the two frozen in place caught red handed. The silhouetted figure stepped inside, its foul amphibious and disfigured face coming into focus. Dismas yelped, terror ignited survival impulses and he immediately shot the creature in the face.

“What the fuck?!” Viara barked at him.

“Look at it! That thing is fucking terrifying!” Dismas said, frantically reloading as footsteps erupted from all around. They wasted no time, collecting one pack each and sprinting from the room only to stop short before a bizarre congregation. Some were plainly dressed while others were strangely robed, adorned with similar golden pieces they had only just pilfered. An overwhelming panic coursed through him as he looked from one greasy alien face to another.

“Let’s go!” Viara shouted, smashing her smoke bomb at their feet, and sprinting back into the small room, exiting from the same window they had entered. They raced into the night, turning down empty street after empty street trying to throw off the eerily silent mob. Dismas pulled Viara into a particularly cramped alley just as a small group passed them by, hissing and gurgling sounds at each other. They remained still until the wet footsteps disappeared.

“We can’t keep this up, we could be running deeper in than out of this place” Viara whispered.

“I know, I can't tell where the fuck we are” Dismas, peeked around the corner trying to see any sign, literal or not that could point them in the right direction.

“We need to get high” he said, strapping the pack tighter around him.

“I hardly think now is a good time to indulge” Viara said firmly.

“Not drugs you ninny” Dismas chuckled. “We need to see over all these shit holes and figure which way is out” he said looking at the buildings around them, trying to gauge if climbing any was possible.

“That one?” Viara asked, motioning with her chin toward a particularly short building that leaned into its taller neighbor. Dismas nodded in agreement, the height was a good start and appeared easy enough to climb. The two carefully scaled the stouter home and just as Viara gripped the next wall to climb, a small arm broke through the window beside her. Viara shrieked and backed away from the tiny flailing limb.

“Ugh! It’s a little one!” she said. Dismas looked at the shadowy compartment and could just make out the form of a mini version of the mutated race that hunted them. Suddenly a less transfigured woman appeared and shrieked as she pulled the spitting and hissing child thing away from the window, disappearing into the darkened home. Guttural jabber broke out and Dismas turned to find one of the fish folk climbing up the wall, swiftly stomping on its face before it could hoist itself over the edge.

They leapt off the roof and dashed down more streets and alleys, over small creeks that flowed toward the docks, here and there hearing waterfalls they couldn't see. The skilled criminals picked up their pace to lose the small contingent that had somehow gained on them. The enemy's speed was not at all the issue but that they were many, scattered stealthily through the town, Dismas and Viara never knowing if eyes were on them.

They reached a small square and scanned the area before exiting the shadows, quickly heading towards the only tidy building they came across with lit up windows.

“Oh look, it’s the inn that traveling salesman outside of town told us about” Viara said as they crept across the square, looking behind them as they closed the door to the Gilman House Inn.

The front room was quaint and warm, a radically different world from the shadows that strangled everything outside. The front desk was empty aside from a steamy cup of something, a small bell, and an open ledger of considerable width. Dismas swiftly closed the curtains and locked the door before Viara rang the small bell. He stood just behind her and drew his pistol at the sound of footsteps.

The door behind the front desk opened slowly, and they exhaled in relief as a kind faced elder shuffled to his post behind the counter.

“Good evenin’ to ye” the old man said, motioning at his head as if to tip a hat.

“Good evening sir, we uh…” Viara stalled.

“Could use a room it looks” he smiled, pointing at their clunky packs, taking a careful sip of his hot beverage.

“Quite the keen eye sir” Viara said grinning playfully at the jovial innkeeper.

“Well, you’re in luck, I’ve got a few rooms left, though that be the case most of the time” he said, his chuckle turning into a cough that he quickly quelled with another sip from his mug. He cupped it with both hands and inhaled deeply, the vapors making him practically purr.

“I’d offer ye a cup but the kettles’ got tincture in it” he said, stifling a cough.

“Oh, not at all, please enjoy. We were- “Viara began until the elderly man's coughing fit interrupted.

“Beggin’ ye pardon, I’ve been a bit under the weather but there’s no sickness about I assure ye. Don’t think I boiled the water enough these past few days on account of the caves below town muckin up the wells, taintin the waters. Even the fish taste funny come to think” he said. Dismas and Viara exchanged a quick glance only just then noticing the elder's physical state. His skin was greasy, flaking and wrinkling at the neck, his already thinning hair exposed sore spots one would not attribute to his advanced years.

“Glad to still have some business, ‘specially with them fishing guild lot trying to gobble up the rest of Innsmouth, askin’ folk to vacate and what not. Made the abandoned refinery into a water mill or some such mason work” he said, coughing into a handkerchief, his skin practically jiggling.

It wasn't difficult to now guess that these signs of his gruesome metamorphosis and the damnation of his humanity were a malign curse from the fish folk. The hushed town made sense, seemingly empty but filled with mutated civilians popping up at every corner. None had left, most had already transformed and now this poor soul was proving it to them then and there, greying before their very eyes.

“Perhaps- “Viara again attempted to get a word in edgewise. The gentleman’s hacking allowed Dismas a moment to peek out the window, terrified to see the fish folk creeping slowly from the shadows into the square, looking inside windows and turning knobs.

“V, we gotta go” he whispered to her as the old man tried to catch his breath.

“What is it?” She said, searching for something inside her coat.

“They’re outside” he said, his heart starting to race the closer they came toward the inn.

“Beggin’ ye pardon, just needin a moment” the innkeeper exhaled deeply and sat back in his chair, wiping sweat from his brow. Viara was overwhelmed by fear and heartbreak, seeing the enemy approach and this man withering away.

“We’ll head upstairs” she said quietly to Dismas and pulled a phial of the red liquid Perimede gave them from her breast pocket, locking eyes with the thief. She kept eye contact with Dismas a moment, almost hoping he’d stay her hand. He nodded, his face sad but resolute, this mercy more bitter than sweet. Viara quickly slipped the fluid into the old man's drink as he turned away to spit.

“Here, make sure to keep with the tincture” she said softly, handing him the drink. Viara practically brought it to his mouth and helped tip the mug enough to guarantee a decent swig.

“Oh my, that’s suddenly so sweet” he said, taking another hearty gulp. “How can I help ye again, a room was it?” he asked. Before either could respond the doorknob rattled followed by several heavy knocks.

“Goodness, I’ve gone and locked my own customers out” he chuckled, taking another gulp before he shuffled out from behind the counter. Only steps away from the rattling door, the kind elder collapsed.

“Well, she wasn’t wrong, that was quick” Dismas said.

“Swear you won’t tell them we ended up needing these?” Viara said as she hastily removed the blue phials from her coat.

“I’m pretty sure she’s going to ask you and If we don’t leave now, I’m drinking the other red one” Dismas said over the loud banging on the door. Viara rolled her eyes and handed him one of the two blue concoctions, their perfect aim hitting the same spot in front of the door. There was a strange pop and in moments a plume of green gas hissed into being and anything it touched began to sizzle. The two were hypnotized for a moment by the small sporadic neon green flames that burst in and out of existence on things. They bolted upstairs as the miasma grew exponentially and the inn door began to fracture at the hinges.

Reaching the top floor landing, they found only one door and a window at the end of a short hall.

“That’s close enough to the edge of the roof next-door...I think we can make the jump” Dismas said, both craning their necks to see outside.

“This room’s window could get us closer” she said, pointing to the door beside them. Suddenly footsteps could be heard coming up the stairs.

“Let’s hope this Erich Zann isn't home” Dismas said, gripping the doorknob.

“How do you know that?” she asked.

“It was the only name in the ledger downstairs. I don’t know how this place has been in business with no guests” he said.

The moment the knob turned the door flew open and a fierce wind sucked them both inside, said door slamming shut behind them. Across the room, the fireplace struggled to combat the shadows that painted everything its light could not reach black and white. A violin unexpectedly began to play from behind the large armchair near the hearth, its song melancholic and beautiful. They looked at one another, drew their weapons and stepped carefully toward the chair. It crumbled to ash the moment Dismas touched it, exposing a skeleton laying in front of the fireplace, clutching a broken bow and dusty violin. The music grew louder, and wind suddenly surged around the room, picking up papers and clothing, the floor shaking beneath their feet. They immediately ran to the window for salvation, but it exploded to pieces and revealed not the dammed town below but unimaginable and limitless space.

It was a howling sea of black, spiraling galaxies and shooting stars reflected in their eyes as they stood transfixed by the endless pandemonium before them. They saw creation, planets falling into themselves only to explode, their residual essence a nursery for new life. They saw destruction, stars shattering and shedding their outer forms, transforming into echos of their once candescent selves, battering space with new furious light. Together they could hear it, in fear and in awe they could hear the music of the spheres, the harmony of the universe.

The violin shrieked louder, and they grabbed at anything to pull themselves away from the window's vortex as it sucked up everything it could.

“THE VIOLIN!” Viara screamed to Dismas of the instrument that had started to float and glow an eerie blue. He carefully took aim until the door abruptly splintered apart, adding to the soaring debris. Fish folk stepped in, only to be caught up in the swirling tempest, several flying out the window into the infinite light speckled blackness. Dismas dodged one of the assailants that slid by him, but it managed to grab Viara by her coat, sending them both soaring toward the window.

“V!!” Dismas let go of his anchor and dove toward them, catching Viara by the wrist just before as she flew out of the window completely.

He held onto her with all his might, the vacuum pulling his friend and foe upward toward the heavens. Viara kicked herself free of her clinging enemy but even with the lighter load, they feared the gale-force was too great and would fling them both out into the great expanse. A loud gurgling shout was heard over the furor and another mutated townsperson appeared, throwing some type of spear at the possessed instrument, breaking it into pieces.

The vortex ceased and with gravity reinstated, Viara plummeted toward the earth, Dismas holding on for dear life, successfully bracing himself against the window frame. He hoisted her into the room and turned to the door to shoot the remaining enemy before it crossed the threshold. As more footsteps erupted from below, they nodded to one another, tightened the packs, and leapt out of the broken window to the roof next-door.

They moved gracefully from roof top to rooftop, making sure to never step foot on the streets again. They paused behind a large steeple; confident they were free of their pursuers. Suddenly, as if loosed from Artemis’ bow itself, refulgent beams of moonlight broke through the purple black clouds and illuminated the entire coastline. They stood in wonder at the celestial body and the glittering sea. The light flooded them with hope, making clear they were headed in the right direction out of Innsmouth.

“Wow, you can literally see my house from here” Viara said, pointing beyond the fierce curvature of the coast. On the horizon, a small, pointed piece of land could be seen jutting out of the landscape that Viara was certain was the hill her ancestor's manor was perched on.

“Damn, coming by sea would have taken half the time” Dismas remarked as they took in the vista. Had it been a run of the mill fishing town, the shortened distance by way of water transport would have made commerce and trade infinitely easier.

“Let's pray they don’t figure out where we came from” Viara said, still looking to the horizon.

“I suppose we don’t make the best first impressions” he said, sharing a chuckle with the marchioness.

“It’s certainly a trend” Viara sighed, and they left Innsmouth swearing to never return.

Chapter Text

On the third day of relentless storms since the escape from Innsmouth, Viara invited Alzalam to join her in one of the brothel's sizable cozier rooms they repurposed for private assignations and organizing expeditions.

“Thank you for coming Alzalam” Viara said to the scholar as she beckoned him toward a cushioned armchair by the large and imposing fireplace. The marchioness gently cleared her throat and smiled at the bar maiden tending the fire, her cue for another task. Viara sat in an equally plush armchair beside him as the petite girl placed an arabesque tea set and covered ceramic bowl on the table between them.

“Can I tempt?” Viara asked, gracefully pouring them tea from an ornate brass pot, the glass cups steaming up instantly. The nervous servant girl returned with two thin, lit cigars sat in a crystal ashtray, anxiously placing it closer to Viara.

“Thank you” Viara practically growled, locking eyes with the barmaid while shifting the ashtray closer to Alzalam, her glare and tone signal enough for the young woman to depart.

“You are very kind” Alzalam accepted the cup of tea and inhaled deeply of the burning herb first.

“I hope our modest accommodations have suited you?” she asked.

“You have been very generous, thank you. Doctor Augeas has also been very obliging, showing me the workings of the sanitarium's laboratory and many of her fascinating experiments” he said, noticing her smile at the mention of Perimede.

“She is quite something” Viara said fondly, sipping her tea.

“It is refreshing to come across a scientist and doctor who does not entirely dismiss the spiritual and arcane” he said.

“Indeed, she has an insatiable thirst for knowledge I admire to the point of envy. We are all fortunate for her genius” she said lifting her glass, drinking in honor of the doctor, Alzalam following suit. “The same sentiment applies to you sir” Viara said, pointing at him as he chuckled.

“Proficiency and skill do not always denote genius” he humbly said.

“Oh, come now, I’ve read of the fabulous astronomer, mathematician, occultist, alchemist and historian Alzalam al din” she said coyly to the scholar. He laughed heartily, genuinely impressed and ever so slightly disarmed, having underestimated Viara in this respect, curious as to what she had read of him.

“Ah! How could I have forgotten!” she said, gently removing the lid to the ceramic bowl, revealing a pile of bitesize orbs of fried dough, slathered in rich glittering amber syrup.

“Luqmat al-qādi? You do surprise my lady” he smiled at the winking marchioness, each taking up tiny wooden forks to indulge in the sweet dessert. They sat for a time, the soothing heat and crackle of the fire blanketed the room in a comforting stillness, a quietude that muffled mother nature's passion beyond the window.

“I regret we haven't had more time to know each other better” she quietly broke the silence, smoke slowly snaking about the room, hovering in ribbons around them.

“No one could blame you, given what we face, and I am grateful for the invitation to enjoy these small comforts together” Alzalam said, his voice sleepy and velvet, the herbs euphoria shifting them, body and mind to a lower frequency.

“I appreciate that, I know this is not at all a place one would consider for rest and relaxation, let alone study. Then again no one has come here for rest” Viara mumbled, her lips gently holding her cigar to the nearest candle flame, the question entirely rhetorical.

“Too true, this is no place for the weak, though we do have quite a bit of strength within our ranks” he said in agreement.

“I fear it’s going to take more than strength alone to free us of this blight, courtesy of my uncle. Not that I have led much of a wholesome life but, here we are...” Viara savored the stinging herb, its tingling effects joining something like guilt simmering just below her skin.

“You’ve taken up quite the mantle Viara, do not let the past add to your burden” Alzalam said with great empathy.

“Long ago I forgave myself my sins. It is my uncle's indiscretions and the path he’s put us on that has become everyone's burden” she said sitting back.

“And yet here you are, gathering the brave, setting us all on an honorable path. You seek forgiveness from these people, to right the wrongs wrought against them. Your efforts are to be admired lady Beauffant. I believe you have handled the delicate transition from the past superbly.” he said, bowing his head slightly. The blushing noble smiled and tucked the unfamiliar compliment away, surprised at the emotion bubbling behind her eyes.

“Generally, I detest bringing up the weather amongst good company but as it stands our current weather...” she said, shifting where she sat.

“Doesn’t appear to be ordinary weather?” he completed her thought.

“Forgive me my conjecture on such things” she giggled, just a tiny bit embarrassed.

“Learning is an endless endeavor, I myself only have speculation on what's going on” he said.

“I believe it’s safe to say your speculations are as good as fact where any of us here are concerned and my gut is telling me this is absolutely my fault, having robbed an ancient cult” she half jested.

“I do not believe fault is useful here though your instincts do you credit. The winds and water that rage against us is most certainly the wrath of a force beyond anything natural” Alzalam said just as lightning broke through the clouds, bombastic thunder filling the atmosphere, furiously shaking the window. “I believe the artifacts from Innsmouth are the cause. Not they themselves but rather their original owners” he said. Viara sighed, the occultist confirming her fear.

“Seems quite the reaction for some tablets and jewelry, though I think I’d raise hell over one or two of those tiaras” Viara chuckled. Alzalam smiled and took a moment to observe the fire and tugged at his sharp goatee in contemplation.

“I am certain they are relics of a more active nature, that is to say they are tools and not simple décor or head dress. You said you took them from a church being used for ceremony or worship?” he asked.

“Yes, Dismas said the chanting we heard sounded similar to the language you…speak at times” she replied carefully.

“It is true, the text on some of the reliefs is the same ancient tongue but much of it is beyond my understanding. They are of an age long since passed but it is not difficult to make accurate assumptions about the practices. Based on the depictions and what vague translations I could make, they appear to be tools for summoning; rather, they are pieces for a summoning ritual” he explained.

“I see, and is it accurate to assume such a summoning would most likely be malign in nature and intent?” Viara asked, terrified that others besides her uncle appeared to be searching for a means to bring chaos into the world.

“I believe so yes, parts of the texts describe their gods will is simply to drown the world so that its children can reclaim the planet” he said gingerly sipping his tea, far too casually given the information.

“And in the meantime, I've made us their first stop on that journey” she said leaning forward, her elbows on her knees, solemnly regarding the dancing flames.

“Your discovery was of significant importance. Had you not identified this new foe, who knows when they would have surprised us on our shores.” he said gently, trying to assuage her guilt.

“But were they our foes before I robbed them or have I just poked a sleeping dragon?” she asked.

“I assure you these creatures are friends to no one and nor is their god. You have given us the opportunity to prepare and thwart this potential threat” he confidently assured her.

“I suppose that’s true enough” she sighed, soothed by the idea of having invertedly foiled an enemy's plan. Viara set her grief aside and inhaled deeply, choosing acceptance, exhaling blame.

“I defer to you in this arcane matter. What can be done?” she asked, refreshing their cups.

“Well, altering the weather has never been in my repertoire but perhaps I can help us discover the source and cut at its heart” Alzalam suggested. Viara nodded in agreement, thoughts of where to search and for what dizzied her more than the herb.

“I’m planning excursions this week into the ruins and other newer locations, I'll tell them to keep an eye out for texts and other relics. You already have permission to access my uncle's considerable library and any manner of documents” Viara said.

“I can help in choosing which to bring back so that they don’t needlessly overburden themselves” he offered.

“No, no, I need you safe and intact, especially before this weather is taken care of. When do you…” she trailed off, noticing something had caught his attention.

“The weather may no longer be a concern” he said, stepping slowly to the window, his focus on the suddenly silent skies.

“…I'll be damned” she said helping him open the tall window. A hint of the ocean lingered on the crisp breeze that sailed into the room and surged through the hamlet, all beneath a perfectly clear night sky that only moments ago was a raging tempest.

“I can't say I'm entirely glad though” Viara said as the two watched confused townsfolk peek out of windows here and there to inspect the sudden hush.

“Nor I. Such control over the elements is a dangerous skill to say the least” Alzalam said, stepping away from the window as Viara shut it.

“Well, no point in looking a gifted horse in the mouth...more tea?” she offered, the change in weather though seemingly a good thing, added a strange veneer of foreboding Viara was determined to ignore till morning.

“Reynauld AND Musar? Please be joking?” Viara asked Dismas, taking a seat at her desk.

“Nope, both down and out. Perimede said it’s probably a lung infection or respotar- whatever word she used. They have a cough, so she quarantined them in case they're contagious” he said sarcastically cheerful, walking to the window to bask in the strong morning light.

“And Obi? Wasn’t he with them” she asked.

“Yea, he’s fine” Dismas said begrudgingly.

“Would you rather he not be?” she asked, curious about his tone.

“Not at all, why would I?” he snipped just a little.

“And does Perimede believe Reynauld and Musar are in any danger?” she continued.

“No, Reynauld’s fine, she just wants to be sure it’s just a cold from him deciding to play outside in a hurricane these passed two days” he shrugged and crossed his arms.

“I'm assuming this positive diagnosis includes Musar?” she prodded.

“Yea, I said they” he huffed.

“You didn’t” she continued before he could respond. “If Perimede says they're fine, why the worry?” she asked

“I’m not worried, he’s been gone, and I’m frustrated” he answered too quickly, regretting his choice of words.

“Ah, I see” she said smirking impishly.

“Don’t do that” he said, turning his gaze from the window to the sly marchioness.

“What? It’s perfectly acceptable to crave intimacy, but the poor man didn’t plan on getting sick” Viara said, sure of her guess. Dismas sighed feeling selfish, embarrassed by how trivial it sounded.

“I’m not a twat, I’d never hold it against him for helping others, even if it’s at his own expense like a fool. This...isn’t about intimacy,” he sighed. “...since there hasn't been any” he admitted, falling backward onto Viara's bed, hoping he sounded more anxious about Reynauld's feelings for him than just sex deprived.

“Lies! I refuse to believe such a thing! The man watches you like a starved wolf watches a fattened hare!” She squealed and laughed.

“Shut uuuuuuuup” Dismas whined from behind the pillow he held over his face.

“Aw come on, these things happen naturally, and moments will present themselves. Also, try and remember who you’re dealing with, my love” Viara said as sympathetic as she could while holding back laughter.

Dismas couldn’t bring himself to tell her that such moments had already presented themselves and each time the knight managed to excuse himself one way or another. He held his tongue every time, knowing not to press such a delicate thing and all too aware of whom he's dealing with. Dismas wished he could quell the fear that it was him that was the problem. Is it his criminal past? his potty mouth and dark humor? his impiety? the scars on his skin? The unknown was torture, and he would rather the clarity of flat our rejection instead of this purgatory.

“And maybe he’s had less...opportunities than you to explore that part of himself” she said smiling, her cheeks sore and Dismas still groaning from under the pillow. Viara stealthily poked his side with her naked foot, and he shot up, nearly falling off the side of the bed.

“Here” she chuckled at the ticklish thief, holding out a freshly lit cigarette. He snatched it from the giddy marchioness and put aside his worry, tossing the pillow at her. They quickly collected their giggling selves when they heard a gentle knocking at the door.

“M’lady” they heard Mr. Drews muffled voice.

“Come in” she said, the two straightening up where they sat.

“Good morning m’lady, sir” he said, bowing his head ever so slightly at the waving highwayman.

“Good morning Mr. Drew, how may I help?” Viara asked.

“There is a young fisherman who believes he has pertinent information for you pertaining to the storm recently passed” the valet explained.

“That does sound like something I’d like to hear. Send him in please” she said, putting on a long silk robe and tying up her hair.

“In here your ladyship?” he asked, taken back.

“Yes of course” she smiled. Mr. Drew uncharacteristically paused.

“What is it Drew?” she asked, confused by his hesitation.

“He is just returned from the shore m’lady, with some of the shore literally still with him” he said sarcastically. The thief and marchioness shared a chuckle, always enjoying snark from the courteous Mr. Drew.

“Ah. Do you fear for our rug or my rectitude?” she asked jovially.

“Both m’lady” he said flatly to the snickering pair.

“Hmm, I suppose the rug is new” she gave in to the caring elder. “Seat him in the back of the tavern if it will soothe you and please summon Alzalam, I'll be down in a moment” she said, turning to her mirror to further fuss with her hair.

“His Grace and Alzalam are already in the tavern having breakfast m’lady” Mr. Drew said and exited.

The damp and sandy young man was shaken and pale, wringing his hat in his hands as he gave his account of what he had seen.

“And you say you’ve never seen these caves before?” Viara asked the nervous fisher.

“Aye m’lady. Me and my father, Light rest his soul, fished this shore since I was a boy. I’ve never seen the cave and even the tide has never stayed this low” the young man said, a hint of pride and pain in his voice.

“And you went into this cave?” she led him to continue.

“Yes, but it wasn’t just a cave m’lady, before too long I was in a huge space. I swore I’d seen a shipwreck in the distance, the cavern as big as it was. That’s when I saw...it” he said and took a deep breath.

Dismas and Viara could picture exactly what he began described and believed that this was the result of the ghoulish transformation that plagued the people of Innsmouth, with new frightening pelagic attributes. The thing no longer had skin and was covered in slick iridescent turquoise scales with large, barbed vascular fins. The pronged and membranous fanlike gills at its neck flexed in the open air, giving to the suggestion that their lungs still functioned. Human eyes were replaced by large bulging spheres on the sides of its head, no discernible human facial features or neck remained. Its deformed sharklike mouth stretched and exposed jagged teeth, as crude as the serrated blade the hybrid beast was armed with.

“I started to hear strange gurgling noises, like a language, and ran back straight away. The sound was ice in me veins m’lady” he said, looking to the floor again once he’d finished addressing her.

“Very well, perhaps let’s stay away from the beach for now. Thank you...” Viara froze, her foot approaching her mouth.

“Thomas” Mr. Drew whispered.

“Thomas! Thank you, you may go” she winked at the blushing youth.

“Mr. Drew, please inform the town council we will convene this evening and tell the caretaker to announce that the beach is henceforth strictly forbidden. Obi, can we assemble a small watch of some kind to keep an eye on the cave’s entrance?” she turned to the general.

“Yes. I will assemble them” he said, leaving without pause. Viara leaned back and took her hair down, raking her nails across her scalp.

“And now, mystery caves” she spoke up at the ceiling.

“Which may explain the storms” Alzalam said quietly. “I was unsure until his mention of the tide being so low but perhaps the caves were already there underwater, and they manipulated the weather entirely to empty them and not at all to attack us” he hypothesized. The sound theory did nothing to pacify her fear of such a foe being so close to home.

Viara rallied two groups at once, one bound for the newly discovered cove that very afternoon while the other prepared for an overnight expedition to the ruins the next day.

The cove party came back prematurely in the wee hours of the morning, fractured and failed. Dismas had left with the twin musketeers, Marie and Sophie along with the resident antiquarian Borte, tasked with simple reconnaissance. Only Dismas and Borte returned, beaten and on the verge of madness.

Dismas helped Borte through the thankfully empty streets of the hamlet to the sanitarium, waking Perimede. After vehemently refusing care, he left his hysterical companion with the doctor and went straight to the tavern, relief and terror pumping through him in equal measure.

Dismas made for the bar, still dripping and slick from the oil-like moisture in the caves, ignoring the hush his presence instantly created amongst the dwindling late-night crowd. His cuts and reddened eyes still stung from the clinging seawater, his sinuses burning from having almost been drowned by nightmarish sea creatures. With no care for what kind of bottle he lifted from the shelves, he took two and went upstairs. Perimede suddenly rushed into the tavern, and Bastien pointed to the steps, too surprised to know what to say.

“Dismas” she said reaching him as he struggled to unlock his room. Dismas jumped from fear and backed up against his door, his heart already beating in his ears.

“P-P-P-Perimede” he stuttered, his teeth chattering from the cold that his terrified mind only just began to register.

“You may be hypothermic, come” she gripped him around the shoulder and held him close as they went down the hall to Viara's room, certain the marchioness’s fireplace still housed a decent blaze. Perimede barged in and sprung to action, standing Dimas before the flames, dragging a weighty armchair closer to the hearth, the sound waking Viara with a start.

“What in heavens name?!” she croaked, jolting upright. Perimede said nothing as she began to methodically undress the shivering thief, his sopping clothes slapping against the floor as they fell around him. Perimede left him standing half naked to rummage through a large wardrobe for as many coats and blankets as she could carry. Viara hurried out of bed to his side, flabbergasted to see him back and in such a way.

“What's happened?” she asked, helping him into the chair as Perimede swiftly covered him with blankets, thrusting a pillow into his arms before swaddling him completely.

“Hurry, his feet” Perimede said, kneeling before him, swatting his hands away as he tried to help.

“I-I’m sorry, I’m s-s-so sorry” he wept at them, their care overwhelming him. Perimede began to massage his feet once she pried his boots and socks off.

“Can you feel this?” she asked, pinching and prodding enough to inflict pain, Dismas’ ensuing yelp satisfying her.

“Coloration is good, there's still blood flow and no nerve damage” Perimede stated mostly to herself, wrapping up his feet as well. She continued to check what vitals she could without her tools.

“H-H-how is-is" he tried to ask through chattering teeth.

“She’s fine, her wounds aren't deep, and she’s sat in front of her own fire with a nurse as we speak” she said softly.

“Marie and Sophie?” Viara hesitated to ask after the sister musketeers. Dismas began to tremble at their mention, tears welling in his eyes, the hours just spent in the cove flashing across his mind.

He fought memories of unnatural beasts leaping from murky pools, flailing arms pulling him under brackish waters, hooked tentacles of unimaginable thalassic monstrosities tearing at his allie's flesh. He sobbed into his fist and shut his eyes tightly, the largest of their preternatural enemies penetrating to the forefront of his mind. He cringed seeing it clearly, its giant pincer clamped on his teammate's neck, her face turning blue before she popped. He nodded no, silent tears streaking paths down his filthy cheeks.

Perimede appeared with water and small towel, ringing it just above the bowl. The moment he heard the trickling water Dismas leapt out of the chair, knocking the small table over sending water everywhere. He crashed onto the floor, tripping over the many blankets and towels he was cocooned in and struggled to crawl away, screaming at the water that slowly spread in all directions from the broken basin. Visions of terror washed over him, thrashing in freezing waters, his red gloves a blur above the surface as he fought off the alien hands that fought to keep him under.

Viara threw a blanket over the spill and crouched immediately before him, taking his face into her hands, her heart breaking seeing such dread in his eyes.

“Dismas, focus. Focus on me...” she said as he tried to catch his breath through his sobbing. The warmth of the fire drew his attention and Viara shifted them directly before the hearth as she held him close.

The comfort was unfamiliar but welcomed, soft and delicate while still heavy enough to keep him warm. Dismas knew he wasn’t in his room but felt safe. He shifted where he lay, too exhausted to open his eyes but alert enough to focus on the muffled voices nearby.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone he’d returned and like this no less” the voice was husky and irritate.

“Well first of all it was two in the morning and if you’d seen the state he was in I'm sure you’d have agreed against visitors. It’s not just a few cuts and scrapes to be wrapped and then head down to the pub for a pint. Light only knows what they saw down there, besides of course seeing whichever horrid way two of his teammates were killed” he recognized the delicate whisper and sass of Viara's voice.

“Yea, you have my condolences. How is he now?” the unknown speaker asked.

“Finally sleeping peacefully. Perimede had to drug him to stop him from waking up screaming” Viara told the mystery man.

“She has a knack for that” he grumbled.

“You mean the only doctor we have has a knack for helping us, yes, yes she does” Viara snipped.

“Well...is he going to be ok or not?” the man asked.

“He is, though I'm surprised you’re asking.”

“And I'm surprised Mr. High and mighty isn't here or did you not tell him either?” he asked.

“I didn’t get the chance. I was in Dismas’ room to get him fresh clothes and left my door open like a fool when he showed up to discuss today’s mission. Naturally, I got an earful, so spare me anymore ire Musar” Viara said. Dismas’s eyes shot open hearing the name. The care in his voice, the concern in his questioning, none of it made sense coming from Musar. He quickly shut his eyes as the door shifted open slightly and Viara's hand was suddenly on the frame.

“Naturally he’d end up first to know” Musar huffed.

“Careful my dear, too much salt is never good for the heart. I guess it’s good to know you actually have a heart, even if you don’t want to use it” Viara chided the surly bounty hunter, snorting his only response. “You know, you and Reynauld aren’t so different, aside from the obvious” she smirked, the fury in his face more than satisfying.

“Pfft…” Musar said, taking a step beyond her personal space. “What would you know about who I am or who he is for that matter? You don’t have the monopoly of judgment because you had a governess and curtsied in ballrooms. You are a down in the dirt grave robber and no better than the rest of us. Don’t ever try and tell me who the fuck I am” Musar hissed at the marchioness and stormed off, leaving her to stew.

Dismas opened his eyes as she entered the room, stopping her in her tracks.

“Aw, a sight to gladden my heart” she smiled wide at Dismas.

“Hey you” he said, hurt to see a hint of tears in her eyes, hoping they were for him.

Viara departed with Reynauld, Obi and the hellion Enica soon after Dismas woke and much to his dismay, only Viara came to see him again before they left. When he asked after Reynauld, all she could tell him was that after the crusader found out about his injuries from the cove, Reynauld locked himself away in the abbey until she had to summon him herself to depart. For better or for worse he had no room in his head to think about anything other than the visions he couldn’t shake. Memories of the cove continued to haunt him, abusing his senses and sowing fear into his injured mind. Determined to dull those senses, he went to the tavern and tucked himself away at a corner table, this time paying for spirits.

The more he drank the more familiar the fears became as he attempted to make them somehow funny, to take away their edge. He tried to picture the creatures sitting next to him, their grotesque mutated bodies behaving normally as if they were regular patrons at the tavern. He smirked, imaging them spilling wine all over themselves trying to drink with no lips, sliding off their seats because of their slick greasy scales. He chuckled at the scene in his head until more memories began to crowd the edge of his mind. He tried to shake it off, but it approached, looming in greater detail.

Suddenly breathing became difficult and his heart began to race, the giant barnacle covered crustacean now fully realized before his mind’s eye. He was there again, in those cold damp caves, wet and surrounded by darkness. The screaming echoed in the chamber, unseen foes bubbling up to the surface from pools and their giant crawling out from a crevasse, a nightmare given corporeal form. It brandished its pincers at them and clicked its mandibles, the sound playing over and over in his ears.

He closed his eyes and hung his head at the table, hoping no one could see him unraveling, see him struggle to not stand up and run screaming into the night. The sight of Marie, gasping for air while Sophie pulled in vain at the pincer around her sister's neck, blurred in and out of focus, interrupted by the sudden body dropping itself across from him. Dismas jumped, shocked by the movement and the culprit.

“I’m obviously in no mood” Dismas slurred at Musar, the man’s face the only thing currently in focus.

“Usually, people this drunk are absolutely in the mood” he smirked, ambivalent to Dismas’ wellbeing as opposed to his earlier concern, ammunition Dismas tucked away for later use.

“So, there isn’t a sympathetic bone in your body is there? I mean don’t get me wrong, I couldn’t give a fuck about having your sympathy, in fact” Dismas burped. “In fact, you-you can keep it” Dismas said, pointing the bottle of wine at him before taking a swing, holding it close.

“You plan on keeping the bottle?” Musar asked, clearly amused.

“Fuck you. Hey nice girl...another bottle of vvvvino, B-Bastien has my tab goin” he tried and failed to wink at the barmaid as she obliged his request per Bastien's nod from the bar.

“Oh, more?” Musar asked the thief, who swayed where he sat.

“Pfft, what are you-you a monk or something? Huh...? Maybe we got us a hamlet headmaster over here!” Dismas said loud enough to turn some heads. He snatched the fresh bottle from the bar maiden and pried the cork off with his teeth, taking a good long swig. “I, sir, am an adult. A whole person...a-a man, a GROWN man, ok?” Dismas said slowly to the smiling bounty hunter.

“Ya sure are. Gonna share any of that?” Musar said, leaning close on his elbows.

“Absolutely not” Dismas said, taking another swig while looking right at Musar.

“Aw, and here I thought you were a nice thief” Musar grinned.

“I’m nice to friends and friendly people, ok? You m-” Dismas belched, “ister...are not nice” he squinted and sneered at Musars chuckling.

“Aw, I’ve been nice to you, haven't I?” he said, his grin making Dismas’ eye twitch.

“Yea because Viara won't let you send me up the river and she won’t either! THAT is a nice person” Dismas said.

“Oh yea? I guess I should have tried to blackmail you too, worked for her it seems” he shrugged. Dismas’ face turned crimson and furious adrenaline surged through his thinned blood.

“Fuck you!” he barked, slapping the pint the barmaid placed in front of Musar off the table.

“Wow, all that for her? I think I might be jealous” he laughed.

“Sh-she’s doing what she can” Dismas pointed his shaky finger at him, squinting, trying to focus his eyes.

“And what’s that exactly? Sitting on some imaginary high horse, pretending to be different than her uncle while HIS valet waits on her hand and foot. She’s no better than any other blueblood” he argued, taking the bottle from Dismas, and chugging the considerable amount that was left.

“H-how could you even believe that after she spent years literally, like Musar l-listen to me…literally in the dirt robbing graves” he said through hiccups. “She’s got what she’s got and doesn’t need to prove a goddamn fucking thing to you or anyone else. You just sound mad” Dismas scoffed at the chuckling bounty hunter.

“Right, while she tries to rebuild some sad little kingdom she can hide in because the real world spat her out. Another fallen toffee nosed noble trying to revive the past on the backs of others. Don’t tell me she’s not in this for herself” Musar huffed.

“Fuck this” Dismas loaded his venom. “You have nerve, NERVE, talking to her the way you did er-earlier, all because she clocked your sorry ass for coming to see me, which I wouldn’t have believed if the prior told me” Dismas growled and hiccupped at him, annihilating any trace of humor in Musar, the thief’s anger grounding him in the present and eclipsing the horrors.

“You heard that?” Musar asked, now stone-faced.

“Yea” he belched. “I did, so lay the fuck off her you dick” Dismas crossed his arms, glaring him.

“Never would have pinned you as the lacky type” Musar said.

“Pfft, that’s real rich of you while WORKING for her” Dismas slurred. “She employs you; you are h-her employeeeeee” Dismas mocked, striking another nerve. Ignoring, if not being spurred on by the scowl forming on Musar's face, Dismas stood up and swayed on his feet.

“You are an obsolete tool she’s collected” he said, seeing double. “She says when and where and you go then and there. You stopped workin for you the minute you said yes to her” Dismas hooked his eyebrow at the fuming bounty hunter. Musar slammed on the table and kicked his chair backward into the wall, shattering it to splinters.

“I don’t work for ANYONE! I work for coin!” He barked, looming over Dismas now at full height. Dismas leaned up and toward him, seething.

“Oh please, who are you pretending for? Can’t stand that you might actually be a good person? Would that be too much of your own shit to eat?” Dismas mockingly whispered.

“Dismas, I’ll say it to you like I said it to her, don’t ever try to tell me who I am” he said quietly, through gritted teeth. “I get paid and that’s the only reason I’m here, simple as that.”

“Ha! No one in their right mind, their RIGHT FUCKING MIND, would ever sign up for this shit just for money. Are you crazy? N-not for…not for the shit that’s out there” Dismas paused, suddenly cold and out of breath. His lip began to tremble as the cove began playing out in his mind again, tasting salt in his mouth.

Musar was confused by the pain and panic so suddenly and so potent on Disma's face. Teetering between roaring fury and aching sympathy, Musar could think of nothing but smashing the table between them in half to hold him. The bounty hunter was struck dumb, never having felt the inclination to protect anything, the flash of insight shocking him, his carnal desire for this man was now joined by something else.

“Ah yes, like usual with most men, you end up saying fuck all once someone hits you with the truth?” Dismas hissed up at the towering man.

Musar's arm shot forward and grabbed Dismas by the collar, pulling him as close as he could with the table still separating them. The kiss was short lived as Dismas pushed him off and swung, the punch hurting his hand more than Musar's face. He grabbed Dismas by the throat this time and lifted him off the ground.

Suddenly a curved blade stealthily slid across Musar's throat.

“Drop him” a soft voice said from behind the hulking bounty hunter. Dismas recognized the accent and soon saw Borte's multicolored robes, her head and hands uncharacteristically bare. Musar dropped the gasping thief, standing perfectly still, her blade pushing harder against his throat.

“So you remember, there are many ways to die” she whispered to him, on her tiptoes to reach his ear. In one quick movement she spun herself and the blade away from Musar, slicing him across the cheek. Fuming and embarrassed he left, throwing coin at the bar before practically breaking through the tavern door.

Dismas turned to her as they sat, he wanted to thank her, to apologize, to tell her it was all ok now, that they survived but couldn’t. He knew she was right there with him, still in the caves, struggling against misshapen fiends and wading through icy waters. All they could do was nod at one another and embrace, silently choking back tears.

Chapter Text

The new campsite had gone quiet, the gentle crackle of the fire the only thing challenging the silence. Reynauld held his verse book open, but his eyes were inert and unblinking, his mind far away. He could barely hear the verses, stalled on the periphery of his mind, unable to reach him now, his brain full of one image.

“And still you are elsewhere” Obi said, looking down at the startled knight, catching him off guard with his stealthy approach.

“I’m sorry. It will not happen again” Reynauld clenched his jaw, the apology heavy in his throat, his shame renewed.

“Again is not a luxury we have when lives are at stake. What could have been so enthralling during your watch that a troupe of degenerates got the better of you?” Obi asked quietly, but with an edge still in his voice.

Reynauld couldn’t face him, embarrassed by the answer. Even amongst the death and decay of the ruins, he could not stop thinking about Dismas, his last memory of him in a bed unconscious, sedated against the horrors that ravaged his mind. Every impulse roared at him to return to Dismas’ side.

“What would you have me do?” Reynauld stood up feeling exposed, his desperation not lost on Obi.

“Remember who you are and your discipline. You have commanded battalions of men and stormed citadels. So many have looked to you for leadership and protection” the stately general said, part of him feeling the lash of his own words. Memories of a singular moment where Obi was denied another chance echoed inside him; pangs of guilt fresh as the day they were carved on his heart.

Reynauld remained silent, knowing that nothing else could be said or done now.

“Focus. We are behind enemy lines; your mind should be nowhere but right here” Obi leaned in and firmly squeezed the back of the crusader's neck. “He would never forgive you or himself if anything happened” he whispered close.

“Thank you general” Reynauld was touched by the words, his burden lighter.

“Eat” Obi said, thrusting a bowl of stew into his hands. “We are leaving as soon as Enica is awake. We found enough relics and tomes for the magician to fiddle with” Obi stated, the decision final.

“As if we have any choice in the matter” Viara sniped, coming into the campsite.

“The perimeter?” Obi asked, unfazed by her attitude, Reynauld less so.

“I was able to reset one of the traps and managed to string together a few things to make some noise if disturbed. We should be able to hear anyone coming since someone's properly working eyes and ears weren’t enough,” she said to the back of Reynaulds head.

“I am sorry I was careless and jeopardized the mission,” he turned to face her.

“Great, you’re sorry…now what? We don’t have food and Enica was almost disemboweled. I think ‘jeopardized’ is an understatement” she said, deciding to unnecessarily rearrange the packs in preparation for departure to divert her manic energy more than anything else.

She grabbed things at random and froze when she picked up a small oblong case, no more than six inches and sealed shut. She had found it earlier in the mission and kept it from the others, she herself questioning why. It must stay a secret and be dealt with when the time comes, the thought forcing its obsession on her, acquiescing her into silence. Viara knew something malign shadowed them now, not yet close enough to touch her but not far enough away to ignore. Its unseen orbit rippled fear through her; her chest and heart aflutter.

“We survived. That is what we must focus on” Obi said to her, his tone less than diplomatic.

“Barely! And if we were any deeper with no food, we’d end up starving to death!” she barked at Reynauld, suddenly irate.

“Says the one who picked up a pack of plunder instead of the rations she was using as a pillow!” Reynauld shouted, standing up for this.

“Oh no, so sorry, I picked up the wrong bag whilst running for my life” she mocked.

“Bullshit. I saw you dash for that” he said pointing to the bag behind her, “look back at the food and then make the choice” Reynauld growled at the furious marchioness. Paranoia surged through her anew; he couldn’t know why she chose that pack.

“I have mouths to feed and an entire half of the countryside to cleanse of my ancestor’s foolishness! Excuse me for taking things that we could use to help people!” she yelled at the towering knight.

“Oh please, spare me your bleeding heart. You barely knew this part of the countryside even existed let alone the plight of its people!” Reynauld barked back.

”Oh please my ass Reynauld, fuck you!” she hollered.

“Ah yes, me, I’m the one who should get fucked” Reynauld shouted at the wide eyed graverobber.

“OR you could be fucking someone else, and then you wouldn’t be so stuck in your own goddamn head!” Viara regretted every word even before Reynauld's expression shifted from anger to shock.

“Reynauld I’m-” she tried to say.

“I think I’ll do another sweep down the hall” Reynauld said, leaving half armored. Viara didn’t hesitate to follow the crusader.

“Leave him alone” the groggy hellion said, stopping Viara short at the door with her sudden consciousness. Enica struggled to stand but still shooed Viara away when she tried to help her.

“That was not your place, and you leave his guilt with me” the flame haired warrior snarled at Viara before picking up Raynaud's bowl of stew and carefully making her way to the hall, using her spear as a crutch. Viara stood speechless, more stressed by the last few minutes than the almost deadly ambush hours ago. Only until she felt a thump in her palm like a heartbeat, did she notice she had been holding the small box the entire time.

***

Dismas almost choked on his lunch when he saw the group from the tavern window, half a day early, entering the hamlet. He hastily exited with Bastien but may as well have been invisible for all the attention they gave him.

“Hello?” he said to a fully helmeted Reynauld who acknowledged nothing and no one as he walked straight to the abbey. Dismas watched him go, indignant, until Obi and Enica got closer.

“Oh shit, Enica “he stepped toward the incoming pair.

“She’s mostly patched up but go straight to the infirmary and summon the doctor if she isn’t already there” Obi said to Bastien, passing the limping warrior to him before briskly walking off to the barracks without a second glance at Dismas.

“Hi, uh, what’s going on?” he said to Viara, who had also almost walked by him as well.

“I’m sorry Dismas, I-I’m hungry, I’m tired, I-I’m pissed. I need a minute” she said disheveled and fumbling with one too many packs while several effects fell out. Dismas reached down to help her and as he went to gather the strange oblong box near him, she practically dove at them.

“NO, that’s mine!” she snatched the box before his hand was even close to it.

“Well shit! Are any of you alright?” Dismas asked, now exasperated. Mr. Drew appeared and hurried to Viara's side.

“I’m fine Drew, please” she said, frantically trying to collect herself and the rest of the items with one hand, the other clutching the small box to her chest.

“Perhaps we should see the doctor your ladyship” he said, trying to help her up.

“I don’t need a doctor; I need my things and my room” she raised her voice.

“I can summon the doctor to your chambers if-” Drew continued in his attempts to aid her.

“NO!” she yelled, crouched over her things like a feral creature.

“V, please” Dismas said leaning in close, shocked to see her shout at Mr. Drew of all people.

“Just give me a fucking minute!” she hollered in broad daylight, abandoning anything else that remained on the floor. Thoroughly embarrassed and confused, Dismas calmly collected the rest and thanked Mr. Drew and the two townsfolk that helped before marching into the tavern, up to Viaras room.

“What is going on?” he whispered as harshly as one could.

“Nothing is going on, please leave” she said, her back to the thief while emptying her bags.

“Nothing? You’re yelling at people in the open street” he said.

“I said leave me be!” she turned dramatically, tears running down her cheeks. Dismas was immediately disarmed, his anger waning to worry seeing the usually poised marchioness unraveling before him.

“At least tell me y’all are somewhat ok?” he asked.

“Yes, please go” Viara said, trying to steady her voice. Dismas left her but was no less determined to get answers. Not mentally prepared enough to unpack whatever was going on with Reynauld, Dismas went to the barracks in search of Obi.

“There is not much to explain, we were ambushed, Enica got hurt during and supplies were scattered. The best course was to leave as soon as she was well enough to walk” Obi explained as he methodically removed his armor without pause, exposing worn battle scars.

“Ok but did anything happen after? Viara was hysterical in the middle of town and is in her room I'm assuming in the same state. Reynauld didn’t look at me or at least I don’t think he did since he still had his helmet on like a weirdo, marching to the abbey like he was invading it” Dismas huffed.

“People are stressed having barely escaped death Dismas. We made it out, leave it there and give them a moment. Please excuse me,” Obi said, now half naked, leaving Dismas for the baths.

Not wanting to feel completely useless or left in the dark, he decided to check on Enica at the sanitarium and make a request of Perimede. Luckily, he found them together and gladly waited outside the room while Perimede tended to the warrior's wounds.

“That was quick work. She looks pretty good for such a big gash across her belly” he said to Perimede once out in the hall.

“Yes indeed, she has a wonderful pain threshold! Stitching her up was quite easy even with all the pulling. I have collected a significant amount of data on the propensity of human skin versus…lots of tugging” she chuckled and snorted. “She didn’t even want a numbing agent and I promise, I offered” Perimede happily explained. Dismas nodded, always feeling a combination of curiosity and confusion, unsure how to ever properly respond.

“That’s great Peri. So, could you try and check on Viara when you get the chance,” he asked.

“Oh? Bastien told me she and Reynauld were uninjured and just need a good rest” she mentioned.

“No yea, she’s not physically hurt as far as I can tell, but she’s pretty shaken. Figured she may respond better to you since me and Mr. Drew didn’t have the best of luck” he said quietly as they let two nurses by.

“I see. I’ll change my apron and go to her” Perimede told him, pausing before turning away. “Is Reynauld also uninjured but shaken? Perhaps he needs you as well?” Perimede asked, ignorant to the depth of her questions.

“Maybe” he smiled at the unintentionally insightful doctor.

He accompanied Perimede to the tavern, parting at his door upstairs, leaving her to see Viara. Dismas splashed water on his face and decided to indulge in some herb before checking on Reynauld. He sat on the end of his bed nearest the window, taking in what he could of the setting sun, feeling the chilly whisper of dusk on the wind.

A sudden knock at his door drew him back into the room from wherever the heavy smoke had transported him.

“Come in” he said, noticing how ominous the room had become as the sun rushed to the horizon, casting shadows and painting everything a deep eerie blue.

“Hello” Musar said as he closed the door.

“Hey” Dismas managed to say after a few good coughs to clear his chest, wishing the bounty hunter had let him enjoy his buzz a bit longer. After a brief pause, Musar got straight to business.

“I’m sorry about the other night” he said, his statement lying flat between them.

Déjà vu washed over him and remembered the first time Musar had come into his room with the selfsame purpose. The atmosphere now, however, was the polar opposite to his first visit. Then, there was a certain safety in the sunlight, the day shielded him from the lethal man somehow. Musar had been curious that day and Dismas could picture his eyes perfectly, hungry and excited. To this day he would never admit how seductive the danger felt. Now, with the creeping darkness swallowing the lightless room, Dismas saw confusion and desperation written all over him.

“This is round two for you” Dismas couldn’t help but jab.

“I think I'm as surprised as you are” Musar said, his eyes fixed on the thief.

“That, I'm not too sure about” Dismas confessed. He was not at all surprised Musar was capable of being a scumbag, but the kiss was something he wouldn’t have bet on.

“Well?” Musar shifted where he stood.

“Yea I mean…no problem. Thanks, I guess” Dismas shrugged. Musar cleared his throat as if to speak but was cut off by another knock at the door.

“Ugh, come in” Dismas said, mourning his dwindling high.

Reynauld stepped in and Dismas’ stomach bottomed out. The knight's oil lamp illuminated the room and the innocent but provocative looking scene.

“Uh…hello” Reynauld greeted them with raised eyebrows.

“Hi” Dismas sighed, glad and mortified to see him.

“I was just leaving, excuse me” Musar wasted no time exiting, the two hulking men giving each other a wide berth.

They stood awkwardly apart for a moment after Reynauld closed the door, silence pervading the space.

“Glad to see everyone back in one piece, mostly” Dismas chuckled nervously. Reynauld smiled and stepped closer.

“Sorry if I interrupted anything” he said.

“Oh, you didn’t interrupt a damn thing” Dismas hoped his casual tone masked how rattled he was.

“May I ask why he was here?” Reynauld inquired.

-Don’t lie, it’s stupid- Dismas told himself.

-Would he lie? Does he have a reason to?- Reynauld asked himself.

“He wanted to uh…apologize” Dismas said, his throat bone dry.

“I suppose he is prone to putting himself in the position of having to” Reynauld smirked, hoping it appeared more genuine than it felt. “What happened?” he probed.

“It was nothing, him just being his usual inappropriate self” Dismas giggled anxiously, unable to read the tepid knight. The lamp flame flared brighter for a moment and Reynauld closed the space between them.

“Nothing enough to warrant an apology it seems” Reynauld said and Dismas knew he had to just bite the bullet.

“Well... I was drinking at the tavern after you all had left and after several bottles he strolled in and sat down with me. Naturally, he antagonized me, and we argued and…and then he kissed me” Dismas exhaled deeply, his chest free of its vice. The two men jumped when the lamp's flame suddenly sputtered and spit, cracking its glass shade.

“I’m sorry” Reynauld said, promptly putting the lamp down on Dismas bedside table, the fire steadying once out of his hands.

“I punched him of course! And then he grabbed me by my throat and then Borte came out of nowhere and cut him and then he left” Dismas hastily added, certain this extra information helped while trying to refute the hurricane of anxiety expanding inside him.

“I’m sorry he did that to you” Reynauld sidestepped his anger, knowing nothing else could be done.

“Me too and... water under the bridge with everyone, right?” Dismas asked, finally looking up at the knight who had not taken his eyes off him.

“He apologized; it no longer warrants our attention” Reynauld said, rubbing his eye a moment to stop it from twitching.

"Forgive me for earlier, I needed a moment. The mission was a disaster and I couldn't think straight, my armor felt molten on my skin" Reynauld lied. How would he explain to Dismas why? Explain how the entire time he had wanted to return to the hamlet because Dismas' condition was more important than the teams safety? How Dismas trumped his own safety. He couldn't tell him how often, if not how permanently, Dismas was on his mind and how much that terrified him.

"It's fine. I'm not sure what happened but seeing Viara like this sure tells me shit hit the fan somehow. Thankfully Enica's wound's been easily mended and it looks like you and Obi are barely hurt" Dismas took a step closer to the crusader. "But I also know not all wounds from missions like ours are physical".

"Too true" Reynauld said, fearful his own such injuries would never heal. His strength waned against the gravity Dismas possessed, the range of it, the potency. Was the Flame not first and foremost anymore? His devotion had shifted and everything he had learned told him to be ashamed of it. Every outside idea that was pored into him, whose sole purpose was to drown everything he was, choked him speechless.

“Do you want to talk about it? Maybe stay the night?” Dismas practically whispered. The question lingered in the air until the silence began to hum.

“I’m sorry I-” Reynauld tried to explain.

“Rey please, one awkward apology is enough for me today” Dismas said, suddenly annoyed. Reynauld's guilt roiled in his gut and now, to add insult to injury, he was in the same proverbial boat as Musar.

“Listen, it’s late and I'm sure you're in need of some rest after the ruins. Let’s call it a night, eh?” Dismas struggled to sound light having reached his limit. He couldn’t do it tonight, couldn’t handle the silent rejection. Reynauld's breath caught in his chest at the dismissal.

“Dismas...truly, it was not my intention to upset you or be misleading, I-” Reynauld pleaded.

“Misleading? You mean from the start or just this time, or the last time, or the time before that” Dismas said, his civility slipping away.

Reynauld took the hit and desperately wanted to salvage this. If he tensed up any further, his bones would break.

“No, I didn’t mean it like that. I’ve not lied to you...it’s just. Dismas...I am trying to explain something I do not fully understand” Reynauld stuttered the half-truth, frustrated, rubbing his tired eyes raw.

“Well, I don’t understand it either” Dismas shrugged and chuckled, his reservoir of patience empty.

Reynauld was reeling and dizzied himself trying to organize his thoughts, his heart pumping in his ears, trying to bear it to one who has chosen him, who willingly offers himself. Reynauld envied the ease with which Dismas lived so unabashedly in his truth.

“Perhaps you’re right, we should talk tomorrow” Reynauld broke the silence.

“As long as you actually have something to say Reynauld because if not…then maybe we shouldn’t talk until you do” Dismas said, as terrified by his own words as the crusader was.

“I understand. I’ll say goodnight” Reynauld left, the impasse between them had become too great. The sound of the closing door gut punched Dismas, and he sat down to catch his breath, the lamp behind him dimming.

Reynauld stood outside and pressed his forehead against the door, his cowardice breaking his own heart.

“Sir?”

Reynauld turned around, startled by Mr. Drew's sudden greeting. The kind elder was lighting the few sconces scattered up and down the hall.

“Forgive me, sir” he offered with the slightest of bows.

“Not at all, I was miles away” Reynauld said, able to muster a smile for the caring man.

“Is Dismas well sir?” he asked, lighting the candles nearest the thief’s door.

“He is” Reynauld lied.

“Are you well sir?” Mr. Drew said, pausing in his task, noticing the candlelight glistening in Reynaulds eyes.

“I am not” Reynauld confessed. “But thank you for asking. Goodnight” he smiled at Mr. Drew and left him to his duties.

***

Viara arrived in the town square in an elegant yet conservative day dress, in stark contrast to her state the day before. Mr. Drew had readied her as swiftly as he could, given last-minute word from the abbey of an impending guest.

Sometime earlier

“Tell me why I shouldn’t lock the prior in the stockade” Viara said as Mr. Drew helped slip her chemise on over her head, careful of her hair.

“Forgive the prior m’lady, he has been terribly rattled. With you absent on an expedition, there was no way for him to give you proper warning once he had gotten word himself” he explained.

“And word from whom exactly? I can scarcely believe the Holy See just suddenly decided to write us” she asked, never imagining such an institution would even know the hamlet exists.

“I do not believe it is the Holy See itself, nor was the correspondence of the priors doing m’lady…it was brother Peter” he said, guiding her corset around her waist, moving behind her to tighten it. “He informed the prior that Junia had spent many a night in the penance hall and her hysterical confessions were alarming enough for him to seek out higher council” he explained, Viara turned to the valet in shock.

“What confessions?” she whispered harshly, fear prickling up the back of her neck.

“I cannot say m’lady, the prior offered nothing more” he spoke from the nearby wardrobe.

“I...” Viara took a deep breath and stepped into the dress Mr. Drew held out and he hastily fastened the many buttons down her back. Viara sat at her vanity and focused on choosing earrings instead of plotting Peter's death.

***

Reynauld appeared in the agora after Viara with the prior in tow, both trying to discreetly catch their breath having rushed all the way there. Barely an hour ago did the holy man rouse the crusader.

Moments earlier

“And why should he have sought anyone out?” Reynauld asked, searching hurriedly for something a little more than decent to wear.

“It is Junia, she’s had fever dreams and abandons her vows for the penance hall. Brother Peter claims she has visions. I fear for her mind” the prior said, nervously wringing his hands. Reynauld found the right drawer to pull from, settling on the safety of all black.

“What could she have possibly seen and said that Peter should summon anyone?” he asked himself more.

“You know I am not privy to another’s confessions, especially if given to a flagellant such as brother Peter, a baptized Vessel. He is above my station” the priest said, helping Reynauld with his chain, straightening the small Flame's medallion where it lay on his chest.

“Then I shall have to remind Peter who is above his” he tried to sound diplomatic.

“And poor Junia?” the prior anxiously asked.

“Mad or not, she risks much to assuage her guilt, that is to say nothing of these visions of hers and we have no idea what Peter has said to whomever is coming” Reynauld said, silently counting to five with each steady breath, tying his hair back as tightly as he could in a small looking glass.

***

“Good morning” the marchioness straightened her posture as Reynauld took a position next to her.

“Morning” Reynauld said, his black attire not at all slimming his brawny physique. They waited in silence as their guest's carriage closed in.

The driver stepped down to open the door for two sturdy vestals in light grey raiments, their silvery armor plates shining in the high noon sun. They flanked the door as the third and final member of the retinue exited. Reynauld and Viara were completely dumbstruck by the woman that stood before them.

“Greetings and good day” her voice was soft but husky. She stood equal to Obi's lofty height, towering over all present, her stern countenance was strikingly beautiful.

So much of her was captivating all at once that one could not help but be at a loss for words. Her face was handsome and chiseled, alabaster skin as pure as snow, betraying her severe aspect. Platinum hair was parted into two thick braids, elegantly woven together into a large bun high on her head. Her robes were a blinding white and the silver of her armored bustier shone just as dazzling. The most intriguing and alarming feature was her right eye, which unlike her brown left eye, reflected a stunning metallic gold. Reynauld and Viara swallowed hard at her approach.

“Marchioness Allard Beauffant I presume?” The imposing woman spoke with authority and Viara stepped forward.

“You presume correctly” Viara gently curtsied.

“I am Sister Jinthura, Vestalis Maxima” the sister bowed her head at Viara, the two women behind her bowing deeply from the waist.

“Welcome to our little hamlet” Viara smiled.

“Thank you. I have traversed the countryside and found your ancestral land beautiful. You have done well in these early days of restoration. Your efforts are to be commended Lady Beauffant” Jinthura said while taking in the bustling hamlet all around her.

“Thank you. As caretaker I believe it is my duty to restore this land for all that call it home” Viara said.

“Indeed. Quite the juxtaposition to the previous custodian. The late Marquis Beauffant was an interesting man to say the least” the sister said. Viara and Reynauld exchanged worried glances; what does she know?

“Oh, you were acquainted with my uncle?” Viara inquired, riddled with trepidation behind her smile.

“Briefly. He wrote with many a query about the Light and Flame and though his questions were mostly benign, he seemed to already possess a great deal of knowledge on the occult already. I believe it was secrets he truly wanted to barter but maintained an air of equivocacy” she explained.

“I hope his late lordship's ambiguity won't paint us in his cunning likeness” Viara said apologetically.

“As entertaining as your uncle's audacious cheek was, I’m sure you know he was a greedy and depraved man, far too smart and curious for anyone's good. Furthermore, from what Peter has told me, you have honorable intentions and strong ambition” she said, jolting Viaras nerves.

“Cheeky and depraved was indeed his lordships métier” Viara chuckled nervously, still unsure of this woman but glad that she already knows some truths about her ancestor. Jinthuras eyes locked onto Reynauld.

“Ah, a true Son of the Flame, you glow with its blessing. How fortunate for you to have a genuine crusader beside you” she said to Viara who couldn’t respond, watching in awe as her one eye turned brown again after both momentarily glowed gold while observing Reynauld. Reynauld swiftly took a knee before the august woman.

“Sister Maxima, she who walks in light everlasting, it is an honor. I am Reynauld Galin of the Northern Expanse and leader of the second expedition through the Great Empty” he bowed his head as he spoke.

“Rise, Commander Galin. I have heard of your defense of the north, and I am grateful that traversing the eastern desert has not claimed you like so many of your brothers” she said with solemn pride.

“We persist...their deaths were not in vain” the crusader said in reverence of his fallen comrades.

“The flame in you radiates, you have indeed found your kindling in Lady Beauffant's cause” she smiled at Reynauld as he stood again.

“Hey ya’ll…whoa” Dismas mumbled, mouth full of apple as he suddenly appeared beside Reynauld, shocked silent by the bizarre gathering. The knight was instantly short of breath seeing Jinthuras gaze turn to the stunned thief, both eyes glowing gold again.

“Oh, I see your kindling is far more distinct” she smirked knowingly at Reynauld as he clenched his jaw and turned crimson. Dismas was too taken back by Jinthura to understand what any of it meant.

“I see now, one likeness you and your uncle share is the queer company you keep lady Beauffant” she turned to the equally confused marchioness.

“Let us all hope it is more momentary than hereditary” Viara jested, hoping for the best. Jinthura laughed heartily but abruptly cut herself off.

“My apologies but I must ask that we set aside any further pleasantries as my business is pressing. Might I please have an audience with the Vessel Peter and the vestal Junia” she was suddenly grave.

“I believe they are at the abbey if you would like to follow us?” Viara said cheerily as if guiding them to a drawing room for tea, not at all understanding or questioning the regal woman’s troubling request.

A sudden shriek behind them drew their attention to the road leading to the abbey. The woman clutched her child close as a bleeding and bruised man rushed toward the square. The flagellant reached them with alarming speed and the party stepped aside as he fell to his knees before Jinthura.

“Vestalis Maxima! She who walks in light everlasting, this humble child of the Vessel is nothing before your radiance, I am your servant, blood and bone. Praise the Light you found me, the darkness here seeks to hide us from the Light's blessings” he remained on his hands and knees, face down. Viara's nerves crackled like lightning, the scene now made absurd by the fierce zealot, groveling in a growing pool of his own blood in the middle of town.

His scarred and bloody back heaved up and down under the shredded remnants of a robe and a large, spiked collar. He was muscular and all visible skin was scarred or freshly cut, from the crown of his shaved head to his barely wrapped feet.

“Your devotion guided me through the shadows Peter; I could not have challenged this evil without you” she smiled warmly at the groveling man. He inched closer, and gently held the hem of her pristine white robe in his filthy hands, staining it with blood.

“Its heart still beats. Junia has seen it, in the throes of her blessed agony she can see the void, writhing and pulsing and pumping. She fears her sins have left her exposed to the dark and tries to strip the visions from her very flesh. I cannot absolve her sins...forgive me” he started to shake, burying his face in a fistful of Jinthuras robe. Before Reynauld could step in, the stately priestess bent down and placed a hand on Peter's head. All but Jinthura appeared mortified as the onlookers grew in number.

“Be at ease child, do not be burdened by her visions any longer” her words were gentle, almost a whisper.

“She finds no ecstasy in her suffering and begs for release” he shuddered.

“If she seeks salvation in the house of the Vessel, I shall guide the passion of her atonement” Jinthura said solemnly.

“But…to spill her blood…” Reynauld tried to say quietly.

“I follow the old ways Reynauld and will not enforce anything upon her relationship with the Light. Junia has every right to do what she likes with her vows. Should she wish it, I will aid in the ritual she has chosen for her deliverance” Jinthura said, guiding Peter to his feet.

“Peter, lead your sisters to Junia. Her allegations against the late Marquis must be examined as a matter of urgency. Please assist them in preparing her while I provide Lady Beauffant with excuses for such rushed proceedings” she said turning to Viara, her two vestal companions following Peter to the abbey. “Is there somewhere private we could gather?”

“Right this way” Viara motioned for them to follow, eager and terrified for said excuses.

Chapter Text

The ensuing week brought with it more highs than lows and the resulting calm was revitalizing. Expeditions into the ruins and cove returned successfully, with much needed knowledge and most importantly much needed capital.

Above all, Jinthura’s arrival was thankfully in the name of peace. In his letters to her, Peter shared Junia’s visions of hordes of beasts, learned and capable of dark magic, in subterranean tunnels long abandoned. Viara guessed Junia had seen the warrens, a network of tunnels filled with unspeakable things, vaguely corroborated by several of her uncle’s journal entries. Viara requested Alzalam reinforce the wards put in place within the manor on the hill in case the chasm within was somehow connected to the warrens.

It was a welcome surprise when Jinthura asked if she could aid him, adding her own seals of protection and banishment. It relieved them to know Jinthura followed elder precepts, practicing a far more open path of the Light, the true way as she put it. She and Alzalam were well suited academics and discussed science, history and the arcane in length many a night, further proving that light and dark cannot exist without each other.

The overall morale was high for most of the hamlet's defenders, though some remained more on edge than others.

Musar became uncharacteristically more eager to be included in any of the missions, never seeming comfortable anywhere in the hamlet. Dismas and Reynauld awkwardly orbited one another, even on the one assignment they were on together, they barely spoke.

Suspiciously so, Viara insisted on being present for all three of the expeditions into the ruins and by the week's end, she began to keep to her room, only receiving Mr. Drew and Perimede. The doctor had become so concerned that she went to Dismas with unsettling updates, hoping his relationship with Viara could shed light on the situation.

“You’ve been sedating her?” Dismas asked the doctor.

“I started adding calming herbs to some tea for her to drink before bed, hoping a more natural remedy would work. When it got worse, I added a sedative of my own creation and soon that stopped working too. Given what I put in the stuff, it’s quite remarkable but more so troubling of course” Perimede explained.

“So, she’s just getting worse?” he hesitated to ask.

“Not necessarily no. It’s been this past weekend that has me worried, she probably slept a total of ten hours in two days and won’t talk about anything” she answered, Dismas seeing fear in her face for the first time.

“Well, I guess shitty sleep and nightmares aren't the strangest thing given our line of work” Dismas didn’t have the slightest idea about where to begin.

“Oh, one thing I noticed is she won't be without this small box she says they found last week in the ruins” Perimede said, and dots connected in Dismas’ mind at once, remembering her diving at it like a savage in the middle of town that day. More glimpses of her with the small box either in her hand or unsuccessfully hidden on her person came to mind, deepening his concern. Dismas and Perimede decided Alzalam be the first to consult as soon as he was back.

Close to the end of the fortnight, things reached a crescendo.

After a lengthy run in the ruins, the party had come back with intact minds and full packs, all cause for much celebration. That night, a feast was thrown, and all were in attendance but their patroness, who went straight to her room with explicit instructions to not be disturbed by anyone.

Dismas and Perimede caught Alzalam before the festivities were underway and explained Viara’s sudden and worrisome obsession with the small box. He suggested the only way to proceed would be to examine the object itself for him to conclude anything. He could say, however, that something indeed shadowed her, which explains why she’d been avoiding him. Alzalam forwent the celebrations to meditate and study their collection of occult text to discover the truth surrounding these alarming circumstances. The three agreed to remain silent as to avoid sewing panic, especially since this directly involved the well-being of their leader.

That night, the entire hamlet came out to celebrate, with spits and stalls set up in the town square while toasts and songs boomed from the tavern.

Reynauld joined in, determined to step out of himself and relax. He migrated here and there within the tavern, toasting with comrades and stopping to share a story or two with others. He slipped away to a table on his own when socializing finally drained him and even amongst the revelry, the imposter in him was stronger, louder, and more intrusive than the wine. Reynauld finished his glass in one gulp and just before he stood to fetch a bottle from the bar, Dismas walked in.

The knight froze, torn between diving under the table or scooping Dismas in his arms. He was suddenly hot and couldn’t take his eyes off the thief that luckily hadn’t noticed him. The gravity of his presence overwhelmed Reynauld from day one and it only strengthened over time. Each kiss drew him closer, every time their skin touched Reynauld struggled against the undertow, being pulled down into the depths of himself. He wanted so much to bridge that last gap, to fully give himself and get as close as one could get to another.

Reynauld’s heart skipped a beat watching the handsome thief smiling as he took in the room around him. Reynauld wanted so badly to know what he was thinking at that moment, to see what he was seeing, to share in his happiness and simply be near him. Dismas was suddenly aware of the knight, and they briefly locked eyes. Even after the highwayman turned away, Reynaulds gaze was only broken when Jinthura took a seat across from him.

“Good evening sister” Reynauld greeted her.

“Hello Reynauld. How are you enjoying the festivities” Jinthura smiled, rosy cheeked, handing Reynauld a fresh glass of wine.

“Thank you and I am glad we have reason to celebrate” he smiled and raised his glass to the priestess.

“It is indeed a time to celebrate, to come together and remember why we have chosen this path” she said, noticing Reynauld’s glance to Dismas across the way.

“Why do you not celebrate with him?” Jinthura quietly asked.

“I cannot say he wants to celebrate with me” Reynauld looked down at his wine while he spoke.

“Truly?” Jinthura smirked at the knight.

“It has not been the ideal past couple of weeks between us, not that us perhaps ever was...” Reynauld trailed off, afraid of the potential truth.

“And what do you think you are now?” she questioned.

“I don’t know. Perhaps walking away would be the best course here, lest I forget myself” Reynauld said, clenching his jaw, watching Musar sit down with Dismas.

"You would so easily squander your kindling?” Jinthura shot straight at his heart, casually sipping at her wine as heat rose in Reynaulds face.

“But...” he didn’t know where to begin.

“But what?” Jinthura gently coerced.

“I always thought one's kindling would be from within, a feeling or belief, principles and precepts that rooted and strengthened you. That it would be an intangible thing, untouchable, unbreakable.”

“And yours is not?” She asked.

“While it is made of flesh and bone how could it be?” Reynauld said, not at all fighting the urge to look at Dismas.

“That is a fear any would understand, but it is not what keeps you from him” Jinthura tilted her head at the knight. Reynauld couldn’t have felt more seen if he were dancing on the bar naked.

“This being holds sway over my very ability to wield the Flame. What would I become should I lose him?”

“Reynauld, the only way to hold the Flames favor is to embrace what is has given you, fully, and without fear.”

“And if I am…not embraced back?” he asked, feeling barer when Jinthura giggled.

“Hardly. It is written all over him” Jinthura assured him.

“And I have been a fool to hide from it.”

“We are all fools in love” she whispered to him, watching him turn red. “Reynauld, alignments like this are seldom an accident. Forgive my cliché but…some things are just meant to be. Trust that, the way you trust the Flames blessings” Jinthura smiled fondly at the crusader.

“How? How can I trust something I don’t feel like I know anymore? You speak of the Light and Flame’s old ways, the right ways. What then have I devoted myself to? When was it that I missed this shift to greed and warmongering and blindly walked beside.”

“You left the crusade and the corruption and renounced this politically crazed arch mother. The Flame chose you and guided you away, guided you here” Jinthura said. Reynauld struggled to assemble any response while his entire world slowly turned on its head.

“And if you remain unconvinced then remember that scroll you carry. It is an ancient relic; a scroll of the Archons and it does not simply fall into random hands. Reynauld, that weapon is a gift destined for you to use for your purpose here. Your kindling...he too is a gift, and nothing can take that or him away” she said, both her eyes shimmering gold for a moment.

Reynauld had never considered the scroll, not fully able to recall how he obtained it and never having known what it could do until he used it to save Dismas. The knight couldn’t deny that Dismas was the spark from the very beginning.

“Think on what to say and then go to him. Do this Reynauld, a broken heart will not survive in this place” she said, squeezing his hand gently before walking back to her seat beside Obi. Reynauld emptied his glass and took a stroll about the hamlet for a bit, going over and over what to say until deciding to just wing it. He would have faith.

Reynauld made for the tavern once more but was stopped by the sudden sound of glass shattering by the barracks. The large door to the barracks was left ajar enough to allow Reynauld a peek inside and he saw something he could scarcely believe. There, down a small row of cots, beside a broken water basin sat Musar, straddled by Dismas, the two men kissing passionately.

Reynauld’s brain switched off and he left, too stunned to know what to do, think or feel. So much was instantly felt at once, he hadn’t realized he was at the abbey until Peter opened the door to the penance hall.

*

With Viara’s worsening condition and having not spoken to Reynauld for days weighing on him, Dismas drank more to lose himself than in honor of their recent triumphs. Perimede stayed for a drink for the look of it and then escaped to her lab, her sole focus was helping Viara. The highwayman remained, too afraid to brave the solitude of his room, not that such a party would allow anyone the opportunity to sleep any time soon. He found himself seated alone amidst the merrymaking, thoroughly intoxicated yet surprisingly still enough to clearly observe the chaos around him.

The antiquarian Borte managed to finally get on the better side of the hamlet’s nomadic trader, who swore Borte was stealing from her. He watched the two sitting together, debating, and swooning over various gems and curios they each would randomly pull from the folds of their flowing robes and scarves.

Enica, after having arm wrestled most of the hamlet’s men, and a few women, somehow ended up between the two vestals that had arrived with Jinthura. As one rosy cheeked priestess struggled to stay conscious, the other giggled while squeezing Enica’s flexed bicep, the hellion teasing her to squeeze harder. Dismas smiled seeing Obi, sitting in a corner with Jinthura, the vestalis maxima red faced and dreamy eyed. He wasn’t at all surprised they had gotten close given how many expeditions they had already been sent on together. He silently toasted to the two giants, hoping that if anything were to blossom between them, that they would have all the happiness in the world.

Time and libation flowed, unequal in measure much to Dismas’ preference. Musar arrived later on and while he moved amongst the undulating crowd it became more apparent that he was avoiding eye contact with Dismas at all costs. No matter where in the tavern the celebrating shifted Musar, the bounty hunter always sat with his back to Dismas. As the thief tried to bore a hole into the back of Musars head with his mind, Jinthura strode past him, and his eyes couldn’t help but follow her elegant gait across the tavern. Only until she sat down at the crusader’s table did Dismas notice Reynauld was present and watching him.

They barely looked at one another before Dismas turned away, dizzied and furious at how stunning this man is. Dismas took a deep breath and closed his eyes a moment, hoping he’d stop spinning. When he was able to focus his vision, he was surprised to see the bounty hunter had managed to silently take a seat in front of him. Dismas giggled to himself, Musar’s position perfectly off center enough that he could still see Reynauld over his broad shoulder, the cosmic joke of it not at all lost on him.

“Well shit” Dismas hiccupped.

“Hello to you too” Musar grumbled. Dismas finished the rest of his drink in one gulp and leaned back in his chair.

“Good evening Musar, how are you?” He asked, and Musar snorted into his tankard before emptying it.

“Alive and kicking thanks” he said, filling both their cups with the bottle he had brought with him. He subtly lifted his drink at Dismas to toast, and the thief stalled.

Dismas glanced at the crusader over Musar’s shoulder. He wanted so much to be angry, to march over there and demand answers, to demand...anything. He shook the thoughts out of his head.

“Can’t say I’m not glad for the kicking part” Dismas said, tipping his cup at Musar, unable to deny that he was indeed thankful for the bounty hunter. They too had been on an expedition or two together these past couple of weeks and Musar was more voracious than ever in battle, securing victories.

“Can’t say I’m not glad to do it” Musar smiled and shrugged.

“With an affinity for cultists now” Dismas said, keeping his eyes on Musar lest they wander beyond his shoulder again.

“See, after running into them, I really started to appreciate cutting through meat. Those skeletons they summon just don’t feel right, no textures to cut through ya know?” Musar only half joked. Dismas couldn’t help but smile, never having seen Musar so tipsy, begrudgingly giving in to the ease of the conversation.

“You’re not wrong, you sick fuck” Dismas chuckled and Musar choked on his drink. Their laughter tapered off and Dismas hadn’t realized he was staring at Reynauld across the tavern until Musar looked over and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Dismas averted his eyes, suddenly embarrassed, thanking the Light Jinthura had the knight's attention for the moment.

“You guys over or something?” Musar mumbled as he took a swig. Dismas was certain he had turned several noticeable shades redder, feeling slapped by the candor. He didn’t know if he was more indignant about the question or the answer. The mood certainly shifted, and Dismas’ drunken pride wouldn’t allow either man to get the better of him, trying to channel ambivalence if not contempt for both.

“Not sure it ever started to be over” he said, the venom meant for Reynauld only stinging him.

“Well, I’m sorry if I added any extra strain” Musar said, surprising them both.

“If only it was that simple” Dismas huffed.

“Oh, so it goes pretty deep” the bounty hunter was almost curious enough to ask him to elaborate.

“If only he’d go deep” Dismas said, instantly mortified by his salacious insinuation and its inherent truth. Musar stared blankly at the thief, amused but mostly struck dumb by the revelation. Already more drunk than was good for him, Dismas guzzled down his drink, fighting the urge to flip over the table and run out screaming. There seemed to be no escape from either of these men and dealing with them had become an absolute chore.

“Listen, I’m tired, and if I have to deal with, literally anything remotely stressful…I’m gonna lose my fucking mind” Dismas chuckled, contemplating violence.

“You sound pretty hot and bothered” Musar said with the slightest hint of a smirk. Dismas narrowed his eyes at the careful bounty hunter and his select choice of words.

“No, what I am is pissed from being pulled in a million different directions” Dismas hissed, furious that Musar wasn’t wrong. It was entirely his choice to not rush anything and allow things to progress naturally, to not question any hesitation. But even he had his limits and at some point, anyone would feel that maybe it was them. He blamed himself for staying so silent, but Dismas was utterly terrified Reynauld simply didn’t want him.

“A little pulling could be nice” Musar snickered.

“Shut up” Dismas snapped.

“That kind of talk got us in trouble the last time we drank together” Musar leaned in over the table to whisper. Dismas huffed and took a swing straight from the bottle on the table, while under it, he pressed the tip of his pistol into Musars knee.

“I really wouldn’t try anything like that again if you still want your kneecaps” Dismas hiccupped at the smiling bounty hunter, resenting his perfect teeth, and deciding to hate both men equally.

“There’s that anger” Musar inhaled deeply through his nose as if some scent were in the air.

“You are a sick fuck, you know that?” Dismas grimaced at the shameless man.

“At least I'm an honest sick fuck” he leaned back in his seat looking smug. The thief couldn’t fault him for that, for better or for worse, Musar rarely filtered anything he expressed.

“Whatever is going on with me and him, has nothing to do with honesty” Dismas said, swaying in his seat. He looked over to Reynauld and found no one, even Jinthura had returned to Obi across the tavern. Dismas was hit by a tidal wave of grief and rage, too drunk to properly compute either.

“Not sure why you won’t let yourself be angry, feels great” he bated the thief, liquid courage spurring Musar on beyond his earlier apprehension.

“You should indulge in it sometime, something to take a load off. Or two if you can take it” Musar chuckled and stood up. “I’m off to the barracks, might pull myself in a few directions” he winked and strode out of the tavern. Dismas was dazed and confused, squinting his eyes, trying to stop the room from spinning. He was alone again but now he couldn’t concentrate on anything while his mind swam. He had no strength against the growing need inside him that challenged what patience he had left, and soon enough he stood up and left the tavern as well.

Dismas paused before the hefty doors to the barracks, he felt outside of himself, his intoxicated mind cloudy, thoughts and feelings lost in the mist. He ached inside and out, and relinquished control, bested by his flesh.

Down a cot lined hall, Musar was sitting in a chair, illuminated in the moonlight, ringing a small towel over a basin of water. Dismas shamelessly watched for a moment as Musar wiped at his bare chest and shoulders, spending extra time at the back of his neck, slowly stretching it this way and that. Dismas hadn’t taken many steps inside before Musar noticed him, immediately shocked. He closed his mouth and sat up in the chair, not sure what to do or expect.

“Well shit” Musar said as the thief closed in. Dismas kicked the stool between them aside, sending the bowl of water crashing to the floor. He gingerly hoisted his legs on either side of the bounty hunter and slowly mounted him. Musar's chest heaved up and down as he took long steady breaths through his nose while Dismas traced his collar bone, each hand gradually moving down to his chest.

Musar’s hands hovered near Dismas’ waist, unsure of the thief’s boundaries, unsure of his own loyalties. Dismas gently led Musar by the chin to his mouth, their lips mere inches apart. He could see, in Musar’s predatory eyes, a longing that bordered on desperation, a hunger Dismas couldn’t resist giving himself to.

“…yes” Dismas whispered to the bounty hunter. In an instant his arms snapped shut around Dismas’ waist and pulled him close, pressing their chest and mouths together. Musar’s hands groped at the thief’s waist belt, resentfully twisting the leather obstacle, tearing a buckle clean off. Dismas moaned and shifted up and down rhythmically against Musar’s lap, their lips parting only to take quick breaths.

Hands pulled at clothes, teeth bit at lips and tongues traced skin, Dismas could see nothing beyond the bacchanalian haze. Musar’s passion and his own desires overwhelmed him and yet something continued to break through.

The bounty hunter grabbed Dismas by the ass and pressed the man's crotch against his belly, biting at his neck. The thief gasped and moaned.

“Mmm…Rey” his whispered into Musar’s hair. They froze and Dismas’ eyes went wide, everything around him was suddenly clear and hyper focused. Barely breathing, the two remained still a moment until Dismas sat up straight and Musar’s hands fell limp at his sides.

“That’s a first” Musar whispered more to himself.

“Musar…I- “Dismas said, his breath a knot in his throat.

“Don’t” Musar said to the silent thief. He gripped him by the thigh and leaned forward, kissing Dismas gently before sitting back in the chair, crossing his arms across his chest. Dismas wasted no time, he hopped off and rushed off to tavern, straight to his room.

“This is fine, everything’s fine” Dismas told himself, his shaking hands and watering eyes making a struggle out of lighting a few candles. He tried to light a lantern and after a third try he noticed it no longer had oil left and launched it across the room, shattering it to pieces. He sat at the foot of his bed and hung his head, ashamed and defeated.

“What am I doing?” he asked himself, watching tear drops speckle the floor between his feet.

*

Reynauld took deliberate steps and steady breaths trying to keep his balance. His vision was blurry, and any movement of his back sent waves of searing pain to every inch of his skin, but he would not be deterred.

“Wow, you look like shit, are you bleeding?” Musar asked the approaching crusader, casually leaning against the door to the barracks, drinking straight from a bottle. Reynauld grimaced as the memory of what he’d seen earlier played over in his mind.

“Easy, don’t start what you can’t finish” he said, stopping Reynauld before he got too close.

“Why” he said through gritted teeth.

“Because that,” Musar nodded at the tavern with his chin “never happened.” Reynauld could barely think, his anger tripped up by the statement.

“Why should I believe you?” Reynauld asked. Musar took a deep breath and unclenched his jaw.

“He called out to you Rey, said your name. He was in my lap, he came to me…and still wanted you” Musar said, surprised at how much it took for him to admit. Reynauld was so full of so many emotions he could throw up.

“So…you didn’t- “Reynauld tried to keep his voice steady.

“Don’t worry, you’ll still get first bite. He’s yours Reynauld” Musar said and walked into the barracks, slamming the large door.

Reynauld was throbbing all over, pain and solace surging through him as he rushed to the tavern.

The door to Dismas’ room flung open, startling the thief to his feet. Reynauld entered, red eyed and sweating, shoulders slumped and short of breath.

Dismas didn’t know what to think, Reynauld was the last person he thought he’d see again tonight. Guilt and heartache filled him to the brink, fighting the stinging behind his eyes.

“Rey, I- “

“Please…” Reynauld cut off the thief. “Forgive me...I should have had more courage. I should not have given in to my fear and trusted in you” Reynauld stepped toward him and held out his hand. Dismas hesitated, wounded by Reynauld’s apology, rubbing at his neck where he could still feel the bounty hunter's teeth, terrified that the truth would destroy what they have.

“Not sure you’ll trust me after tonight though” Dismas looked away and his heart started to race.

“I do trust you” Reynauld moved closer.

“You don’t understand Rey... tonight I-”

“He told me…and I saw what happened” Reynauld said.

“You saw? And he told you...everything?” his question a whisper, unable to trust his voice.

“Everything” Reynauld nodded. Dismas wasn’t sure if he was hurt or glad Reynauld heard the truth from Musar, surprised the two men had been civil about it. The brawny crusader stepped toward the shaking thief, hating the pain in his face, hating that he had a hand in it.

“Rey, I'm so sorr-” he was silenced as Reynauld pressed his mouth tenderly against his. Dismas wrapped his arms around his shoulders and the knight immediately winced and recoiled.

“Oh shit, sorry...wait are you ok?” Dismas asked, startled by the small smudge of blood on his palm. Reynauld sighed and slowly took his shirt off.

“I lost myself a bit after seeing you two” the knight shrugged and showed Dismas the many deep lacerations covering his back, stunning the thief silent.

“So, you...literally beat yourself up over this?” Dismas asked, mortified at the state of his body and the reasons why.

“Yes” Reynauld said, turning around to face him “for you, yes.” Dismas looked up at the sweating man and his awkward smile, strangely flattered.

“Sit, before those get infected” Dismas said. He gathered a bowl of water, some towels, and a salve from about the room, discreetly wiping away a silent tear.

“Peri gave me this stuff, numbs wounds up real good and sanitizers it or whatever word she used” he said, gently positioning Reynauld where he sat to get better access to his broad back and shoulders. Dismas’ hands shook as he slowly wiped away the blood, moving from cut to cut, each one his fault, each one created in his name until he couldn’t go on. Reynauld turned around to face the sniffling thief.

“Rey I'm so sorry you saw us, I didn’t-” Dismas tried to say as the knight took his face into his hands.

“Sshhh, Dismas…” Reynauld mustered up all the courage he could. “You needn’t ever ask me for forgiveness...it is yours. Every part of me is and I'm sorry for never showing you properly, for never telling you that…I need you, with me, beside me…always” Reynauld said, willingly exposed, finally letting go.

“You limp noodle” Dismas’ voice cracked, his turn to be brave. “I’m all yours” he whispered before kissing Reynauld. Too exhausted to sob and too relieved to care about anything else, Dismas leaned into him and buried his face in his chest.

After a moment to soak him in, Reynauld pulled away and took Dismas’ hands into his.

“May I... stay tonight? That is, to just stay, in this state I’m not sure I can properly put my back into anything” Reynauld winked. Dismas chuckled, powerless against the knight's bright viridian eyes and dashing smile.

“You know you can” Dismas smirked. “You always can” he added bashfully, fiddling with the crusader’s chain.

Chapter Text

Dismas woke up, not sure if it was late or early but wide awake nonetheless, nature’s call inducing immediate alertness. Dismas resented his bladder as he slid as gently as he could off of Reynauld’s heaving chest, after several nights together the crusader proved to be quite a light sleeper. He sat up and now, removed from the steady beating of the knight’s heart, the room’s silence pressed against him, and the pernicious chill nipped at his cheek where Reynauld’s warm and cozy chest had been. As he went to stand, a muscular arm snaked around his waist and Dismas smiled wide in the dark, selfishly glad Reynauld had woken up.

“Mmm... more?” Reynauld grumbled, his voice huskier from sleep, nibbling at Dismas’ waist.

“No, you beast” Dismas chuckled, escaping the knight's groping hands. “I need my legs intact to cleanse the land remember?” Dismas whispered.

“I understand. I do hold them up in the air for quite a bit” Reynauld grinned, sly and proud. Dismas bashfully gasped.

“Whoa whoa whoa, the verses teach you that?” Dismas laughed and tugged on Reynauld’s beard, relishing how uninhibited he had become.

Dismas slid the knight's huge shirt over his small clothes, chuckling as he held his arms out, his slender frame swimming in it. Reynauld sat up on an elbow and unabashedly took in the sight of him, no longer having to steal glances and fight the urge to stare. He had him to himself now and could drink cases of him.

The thief winked at the crusader, and even in the semidarkness he saw the man’s pupils dilate, his stare raptorial.

“Don’t!” Dismas rasped at the grinning knight, flying to the door as Reynauld threw the blankets off himself and leapt out of bed, bounding for the thief.

Once safe in the hall, Dismas immediately regretted not putting anything on his feet, the current weather making the floor feel like ice, easily penetrating his socks. The weather had turned so frigid so quickly that expeditions were postponed and even their enemies had been forced into hibernation against the cold snap.

A muffled thud from down the hall stopped him in his tracks, and before he could get close, Perimede stumbled out of Viara's room, her hair and nightgown in disarray.

“Shit, are you ok?” He rushed down the hall to help her.

“It happened, she’s gone, she left us” Perimede groaned, holding the side of her head, blood trickling down from her temple.

“She's dead?!” Dismas asked, his chest tightened as he rushed into her room.

“No, she’s in perfect physiological health” she said, confused by his question.

“Dammit Peri!” Dismas barked from inside the empty room.

“She left Dismas. We have to find her immediately, she’s not herself” Perimede’s mind demanded but her voice pleaded.

“What do you mean?” Dismas asked, afraid he may know the answer, Viara's reclusiveness having worsened the past few days.

“She woke up speaking tongues and her eyes were glowing. When I tried to stop her, she hit me with that small box she’s been attached to and waltzed out. Something is controlling her Dismas” Perimede said.

“What’s going on?” Reynauld suddenly appeared.

“Viara left the hamlet under some spell we think” Dismas said as Perimede rushed back into Viara's room, dressing posthaste.

“Do you know where she went?” Reynauld asked.

“I'm certain it’s the ruins, she’s mentioned it in her sleep before” she said too loud for the hour while buckling her boots.

“Then we shall join you” Reynauld nominated them and returned to Dismas’ room.

“Thank you. I just need a few things from my lab and then we can leave” Perimede hurried off, her façade about to fracture. Slightly dizzied by the sudden rush of it all, Dismas got to his door and Reynauld had already stepped out, fully clothed.

“I’ll meet you outside once I am properly equipped, make haste” Reynauld pecked the thief quickly on the cheek and left.

Dismas was the first to arrive outside the tavern, immediately pulling his fur collar close and tying his scarf a bit tighter against the hyperborean cold. Reynauld and Jinthura arrived next, just before Perimede and Alzalam converged on the agora from the sanitarium.

“I hope to help if you’ll allow me” Jinthura said with the slightest of bows.

“Always glad for more healing hands” Perimede nodded and walked away toward the main gate.

“Wait, Peri maybe we should think about where to start. The ruins aren’t the smallest place to explore and it’s way too cold to get lost” Dismas asked.

“I can be of service in that regard” the magician stepped forward. “I was mapping tonight's sky on the observatory deck when I saw Viara running from the hamlet. I was coming to reach you but thankfully you were already here” he shared.

“What direction did she go in?” Perimede asked.

“She went east” Alzalam answered.

“That is the opposite direction of the usual entrance into the ruins” Reynauld questioned, knowing the ruins quite well after many an expedition.

“I do not believe she will be passing through them to reach her destination” Alzalam explained.

“But she’s still ending up inside the ruins?” Dismas asked the mystic.

“Indeed. There is a sundered cathedral on the eastern most side that she specifically stopped us from entering on these recent quests. I am certain you can reach it by going around the ruins rather than from within. That is where you will find our friend” Alzalam spoke quietly in the hushed night.

“With respect, how are you certain this cathedral is her destination?” Reynauld inquired.

“The sky is showing us” the occultist said and turned to point up at the heavens. “The Hydra constellation burns. Whoever summons Viara also beckons to the outer spheres and invokes the stars above. Follow it and you will find the cathedral” he said, and each felt the same ripple of fear when looking at the crimson celestial body.

“Then tonight, we shall challenge this vulgar radiance” Jinthura said, brandishing an ornate but severe mace.

As the others quickly packed only necessities onto the two horses, Alzalam led Dismas off to the side, leaning on a cane from a sprained ankle.

“I am afraid I must be quick and plain. The enemy you face is remarkably proficient in old and dark magics and may have defenses in place, especially if they are preparing for a ritual of some kind. I can assist from afar but... not without your help” Alzalam explained, smiling nervously at the thief.

“Gotcha...I think” Dismas chuckled nervously. He understood why the magician would come to him, never being able to forget being forever marked by the same Eldritch deity, and his soul surviving being sent to the void and back. It was a bizarre sensation being spiritually connected to someone in this very literal way, but Dismas trusted Alzalam and even now, the ancient thing inside him remained dormant.

Alzalam pulled sticks of incense from his heavy robe.

“This incense is heavily imbued with arcane energy and though I may be some distance away, in your possession and with the shifting cosmos above making the air thick with ether, I can easily amplify my abilities. I will be able to manipulate and use the smoke to create a way into the cathedral, unseen and unheard” he said, handing Dismas the bundle.

“Ok but...who or what exactly is doing the connecting?” Dismas reticently asked.

“I would be the only one present with you friend and for the briefest of moments” the magician assured, certain of the thief’s concerns. Dismas was glad to hear it, no matter how unsure he was about the nature of their attachment.

“Light the incense when you reach your destination and speak my name aloud; Alzalam al Din” he explained.

“It’s that simple?” Dismas asked.

“Given the situation’s variables…yes” he laughed to himself, but immediately cleared his throat and straightened his back.

“Always remember; Words are extremely powerful, especially when invoking another’s name. Leaving myself connected to the ether will allow me to pinpoint where you are the moment you call to me” Alzalam chose his next words with care. “Tonight, the atmosphere is ripe with flowing energy, I will remain in a trance-like state up on the observatory deck until you return, I will stay…close so that should you need me still...simply ask friend” the occultist smiled kindly.

“Great, I will remember that” Dismas genuinely meant it, trying to see this as a perk rather than a price.

“Well, I’m off-” Dismas paused before leaving, one of the trillion questions he had needed immediate attention. “Hey Al, this connection of ours, it isn’t like…you can’t…hear my thoughts or stuff like that?” he asked, not entirely prepared for an answer.

“No, my friend. Though our circumstances are indeed unique, we are never present in such a manner. Contracts such as mine are governed by laws, eternally binding and unbreakable laws” Alzalam only half lied, his companion from the void had absolutely broken rules by imprinting itself onto Dismas, even to save Alzalam. But he knew that laws meant little in those realms in-between.

“Glad to hear it” Dismas smiled wide, knowing he would never get used to this.

An encumbered Mr. Drew suddenly rushed out of the tavern to Dismas.

“Please…save her” the loyal valet whispered to conceal his shaking voice and handed Dismas a heavy fur lined coat and boots. Dismas silently nodded, touched by his unyielding devotion to her, and heartbroken by the suffering so plain on his face. The thief walked away biting his tongue, unable to make the gentle man promises he knew he couldn’t possibly keep.

They kept to the edge of the wood as they advanced on the ruins from the outside. It’s weathered perimeter grew taller as they closed in, the remnants of the house of worship coming into focus. The horses stopped a small distance away from the dilapidated cathedral, bucking and neighing wildly, refusing to take another step. The party could almost see a distinct line of separation where the natural glow of a clear night stopped and where a forbidden dimension now existed before them, the sky ever so tinted red. They stepped into the alien light and exchanged worried glances, each certain they heard an unearthly gong in the distance. As the four approached on foot, they realized the only celestial body they could see now was the crimson constellation Hydra directly above, it’s ominous light feeling almost material.

They reached the outer wall and waited, having discussed along the way Dismas’ role in entering the building.

“Trust in him” Jinthura said, her gentle pat on the back startling Dismas. He trusted Alzalam would keep his word but having to dabble in such arts in any way unsettled him. The sky above brought back memories of the outer zone his soul had been sent to, amongst ancient beings of unguided nature. He shook off the feeling of helplessness he had felt as that chaos realm tried to swallow him whole.

“Yea, he’s a clever guy” Dismas smiled, however laced with anxiety it was.

The highwayman stepped forward with torch and incense in hand, his eyes closed trying to empty his mind.

“Alzalam al Din” Dismas uttered into the night, the name echoing inside him as his mind repeated the call from within. Suddenly, a warm gentle breeze came up from behind him.
He inhaled deeply as the smell of rose and oud wafted over him; the perfume’s sensation held him like a comforting embrace, memories of him and the mage laughing in the tavern playing out on the edge of his foggy consciousness. Dismas didn’t know he was igniting the tip of the bundle and it flared to life, the momentary flame glowing magenta until it snuffed itself out. Tendrils of smoke slowly and elegantly snaked forth from the bundles' smoldering tip.

“Alzalam al Din” the thief wasn’t sure if he repeated the name aloud, feeling the incense vibrate in his hand and somehow, knew that it understood him.

Guided by the tender zephyr, the opaque vapor encircled Dismas until the ribbons of pink smoke soared to the wall of the cathedral and created a large circle against it. It slowly transformed into lines and symbols made of light and rotated until they each locked into place, creating an intricate sigil. A flash of light momentarily blinded them before the array silently burned a giant hole clean through the thick stone.

Dismas visibly shivered and shook off the tingling all over him.

“Are you alright?” Reynauld asked him.

“Yea, Al’s a man of his word” Dismas smiled, glad the magician was the only presence he had felt.

The aperture they had created led them into the atrium of the ruined basilica, the few lit candles leaving them plenty of shadows to cling to, though they appeared to be the only current occupants. Sneaking into the main hall, they were immediately greeted by rubble and decay. The walls reached a lofty height only to connect to a shattered ceiling that left them exposed to the cursed night above. Only suggestions of windows remained, their depictions of faith shone fractured on the broken glass and icons that stood as pillars of reverence along the walls, now lay cracked against the cold stone. Long abandoned by worshipers, shattered and broken pews lined the long space, leading to an even more decrepit inner sanctum.

While they approached, Dismas had to stop Perimede from rushing in when they noticed three figures before the large altar where Viara lay motionless.

“She lives, we must hold a moment, surprising them will be safer for us all” Jinthura whispered as they waited, weapons at the ready.

At the bottom steps to the apse knelt three cultists, chanting up at the sanguine constellation through the destroyed ceiling. Footsteps approached from behind a tall and out of place stone sarcophagus they hadn’t noticed, standing behind the tall marble slab Viara was on.

The disfigured shape of the Prophet limped into view.

“Yes, YES! Sing to the seething darkness! Sing to the furious light!” he shouted, taking a place at the altar. The three women screeched their incantations louder as the Prophet carefully removed the small oblong box from Viara’s interlaced fingers. The madman held it aloft and cried out.

“SING! Sing the elder verses!” he yelled at them. The Prophet scurried from around the alter to where the witches knelt and stood before them. The party could sense the undulating energy of their curses, waves of desperation and faith rippled through the air. The circles and lines crudely painted all over the floor around the altar began to glow red.

“The blood sacrifice!” he beseeched, holding the box above his head, his empty eye sockets aimed at the cultist in the middle, bearing his sickening yellow teeth at her. The flanking women suddenly stood and grabbed at their sister, each taking an arm and a fistful of her hair. Dismas, Perimede and Reynauld were mortified to see the woman in the middle was the fourth vestal that had arrived with the bishop, the vestal that Junia had exiled.

“Locks and keys of blood and bone…BREAK!” he hysterically screeched as he loomed over the restrained woman, the others still crying out. The box he held began to float and now with his hands free, the Prophet plunged his fingers into the vestal turned cultist's face, ripping her eyes out of her head. She wailed in agony as the witches held her in place, still spewing their malign invocations, drawing blades to cut across her neck.

The Prophet ground the eyes between his gnarly fingers and held his hands open just below the floating box as it sat itself gently in his palms. He locked his fingers around it and immediately, glowing symbols could be seen past the gelatinous flesh and blood in his hands, until the small vessel dissolved in a swirl of ashes. The team looked on horrified as now, floating just above his filthy open palm were two pristine, glittering yellow eyes.

“Yes…yes! YEESS!” The Prophet began to laugh, the two cultists remaining steadfast in their chanting, more still needing to be done.

“And now!” he turned to the altar behind him. “Salvation! By the Light, may the blood that unleashed this pandemonium become the curse that seals it away! By the Light, SALVATION!” the Prophet screamed and drew a blade, stepping toward Viara. It was all Dismas needed.

Dismas shot the dagger out of the Prophet’s hand, the pop and ding turning everyone’s attention to the thief while his three comrades moved in. Without hesitation the two remaining witches frantically ran to either side of the altar and took kneeling positions over a basin each.

“STOP THEM” Jinthura yelled as she raced ahead but was too late, the cultists each cut their own throats above their respective bowls, filling them slowly as their bodies went limp. The ground shook beneath their feet as the looming sarcophagus shuddered, the party only then noticed the heavy chains wrapped around it. As their links twisted and clinked against each other, small etched in symbols could be seen glowing on the metal.

“Stop this! You meddle with primordial knowledge you know nothing of!” Jinthura yelled at the Prophet.

“Her blood opened the way, and her blood must close it!”

Before Dismas could finish reloading, Perimede raced by and shoulder checked the Prophet, sending him careening into a wall several feet away. She immediately began to pull Viara off the large marble slab and Dismas wasted no time in assisting, seeing Reynauld and Jinthura in the corner of his eye close in on their grotesque enemy.

“Check her pulse” Perimede commanded Dismas and ripped her mask off, methodically sorting through several phials from her belt and satchel. “Hold her by the back of her head” she said before he could even comply with her first request. Perimede brought a tiny phial of luminescent turquoise liquid to Viara's face and blew at the fumes that wafted forth. The chemicals and force of Perimede’s own breath rushed into the unconscious marchioness and she instantly gasped awake, her eyes wide and chest full.

Viara’s vision cleared, and she instantly pulled Perimede into her arms, peppering the doctor’s head with kisses.

“Mon cher, mon amour, amore mio, mon petit, mon petit corbeau” Viara said breathlessly through pecks, her eyes welling with tears.

“Viara please, settle down. I have to examine you, we do NOT have time, can you walk?” Perimede fussed against her loopy and fondling partner, though relief and joy were plain on Perimede’s face.

“Walk?! To the ends of the earth for you” Viara said, whipping her hair back dramatically, batting her glazed over eyes at Perimede.

“Ok, no more blue smoke” Dismas said, hoisting Viara to her feet.

“Where the hell are we?” Viara asked, looking herself up and down, suddenly hyper aware. The three ducked from debris as Reynauld crashed into the pews just beside them.

“That deranged old man is very strong” Reynauld’s metallic voice huffed, his armor rattling as he stood and shook the dust off, marching right back toward his foe. Jinthura had been mostly on the defensive, trying to protect herself and the others from the Prophet's hexing. Their clashing of energy sent waves through the space, and the looming tomb shook again.

“Are you not faithful?! You embrace calamity!” the Prophet hollered, holding out his wicked floating eyes, cursing parts of the ceiling to come crashing down. Reynauld sprinted and dove at the vestal, tackling her to safety.

“And you seek to unleash it! WAIT NO!” Jinthura tried to warn him, but it was too late, the Prophet’s bloody foot stepped onto the altar. In the blink of an eye, one of the many chains bound around the coffin snapped and whipped itself around the Prophet’s throat, dragging him closer.

“FOOLS. YOU ARE ALL FOOLS” a disembodied voice said calmly. They were horrified by the sound, as if the echoing voice were standing right beside them, speaking directly into their ears. The candle flames began to dim, the crumbling ceiling leaving them even more exposed to the sky, bathing them in its violent crimson light.

An unsettling quiet came over the space and all they could hear was the wet choking of the Prophet. Frozen by fear and disgust, they watched the chain violently yank at the Prophet, slamming him up against the walls and ground multiple times. With terrifying speed, more chains coiled around the rest of his body and bound him against the standing coffin. He attempted to speak but they tightened more and more, until he could only gurgle and spit up blood. Slowly parts of him began to break as his binds coiled tighter, the creaking metal adding a disturbing nuance to the sound. The Prophet’s cursed eyes dropped to the floor and swiveled around wildly, away from their master once more. In one final and revolting crack, the Prophet’s body stopped struggling against the chains that finally popped him. Blood and viscera squeezed through the glowing links and seals of paper, invisible before, could be seen burning off the coffin itself, revealing it to be a beautiful black marble.

The wind began to howl and any fire within the cathedral burst into roaring purple flames. Suddenly the altar and sarcophagus exploded, sending burning metal and stone everywhere, a storm of dust instantly blanketing everything. Relatively unharmed, they collected themselves enough to regroup around Viara and Perimede, but as the dust settled, the looming silhouette of a new foe towered before them.

Standing taller than Jinthura, the crimson robed being held it’s arms open, pointing the framed hole on it’s completely hooded head up at the sky and inhaled from somewhere. The sound was more a hiss than a breath and put everyone’s teeth on edge.

“Freedom” it whispered and ‘faced’ them. It lifted a grey, gnarled hand and snapped it’s fingers, summoning chunks of the many shattered chains to reform around it’s waist. Scrolls and forbidden codex from within the destroyed coffin soared to the creature, latching itself to the chain belt. The being laughed maniacally, and unfurled a singular scroll, brandishing it at the party, sending a wave of black energy hurtling at them.

The shockwave broke against a golden pillar of light that had erupted upward from beneath them just in time. The dazzling radiance surrounded them as Jinthura held her mace aloft, glowing like a white-hot star in her hand.

“Aaaahhh…hallowed souls, the faithful have come” the being hissed at the glaring vestal as she confidently stomped toward it. It raised it’s arms and up from the floor, skeletal limbs broke through the stone and began heaving the rest of themselves self out.

“Filthy necromancer!” the vestal barked, easily smashing the skeleton to bits with one swipe. Jinthura swung at the presumedly unarmed necromancer, and her mace clashed with a large claw at the end of a throbbing fleshy mess of an arm. Her shock gave the necromancer an open shot and it punched Jinthura in the chin with its free arm. She staggered backward still on her feet, shook the spots from her eyes and rushed her enemy. They attacked each other with weapon and word, ribbons of light and shadow lashing outward as they clashed. The earth rumbled again as undead emerged from the ground all around them, closing in on the others still amongst the pews.

Reynauld stepped toward the closest incoming group and swung horizontally in wide arcs, each swipe accompanied by steps to the left and right, making sure none made it past him. With one entire side defended, Dismas turned to face the clamoring horde behind them, locked and loaded. Perimede pulled him down behind a pile of rubble, crouching over Viara.

“Stay with her and whatever you do, stay out of the cloud” Perimede told Dismas, fastening her mask, hood, and gloves tight enough to cover any trace of skin. She pulled out several bottles of blue and yellow fluid from her large satchel, thrusted some at Dismas and the two chucked all of them at their encroaching enemy. Dismas immediately understood her warning. The liquids began to mix, moving toward each other like magnets, and turned an extraordinary neon green. The pools expanded exponentially and violently fizzed, creating plumes of thick opaque mist that rapidly engulfed almost that entire side of the room. Perimede drew a scalpel thin kriss and disappeared into the fog, dismantling the confused hoard with surgical precision.

“She’s a mad woman” Viara groaned, swaying where she sat. Dismas turned away from the churning gas cloud with no fear of being flanked and quickly scanned the battlefield around Reynauld. Luckily, the ruined cathedral gave them the advantage over the fumbling skeletons as they tripped over the shattered pews and piles of wreckage in their mindless haste, giving Reynauld time to strategically choose which to dispose of first. As they fell around him, heat rose in his chest that blossomed to his limbs, the Flame’s boon igniting in him.

Unwilling to leave Viara’s side, Dismas shot as many of Reynauld's combatants as he could from afar.

“I’m here, go help him” Perimede surprised him with her sudden return and coughing fit. She ripped her mask off and bent over, trying to catch her breath between hacking, the edges of her clothing were singed and smoldering. Dismas looked behind her, shocked at the devastation her dissipating acid cloud wreaked on the stone and wood. Everything physical was degrading and ablaze with a strange, almost invisible green flame but more impressively, not one skeleton warrior was in sight. Perimede bent down and began to fiddle with more tonics for the weary marchioness while Dismas bounded for Reynauld.

The two men didn’t need to say a word and became one with the brutal arithmetic of combat. For every hefty swipe of Reynauld’s sword, Dismas followed and finished off any enemy that managed to dodge the crusader’s attacks. The thief became the knight’s eyes where his helmet cut off his vision and nothing was able to get too close. A fresh undead soldier suddenly burst out of the ground at his feet, and the thief instinctively shot, the pointblank range recoil knocking Dismas backward, taking the crusader down with him.

Just as they recovered, a shockwave of dark energy knocked over anything still standing, creating a miasma of dust and soul clutching terror in it’s wake. Down on their knees they fought against visions of death and torture screeching in their mind, telling themselves the pain isn’t real. Lashes and crucifixion, ropes and razors, cutting and pulling, any conceivable means of pain attempted to infiltrate their mind and body. Dismas tried to focus on the red of his gloves but the stone beneath them began to morph and writhe, replaced by pumping black veins and muscles that began to creep up his arms. He began screaming down at the floor he thought was alive and devouring him, desperately trying to move any part of him until he was jerked to his feet by the collar of his coat.

“BREATHE!” Reynauld hollered at the hyperventilating thief. The knight pulled off his helmet and grabbed Dismas hard by the face.

“It isn’t real. You need to breathe. Breathe with me, you can do this” Reynauld said, taking exaggerated breaths to help Dismas steady his own, but to no avail. As Dismas’ breathing became shorter bursts, Reynauld chose immediate action and smacked him steady. Dismas blinked, dazed and confused, but back from the edge of madness. Sudden shrieking turned them around.

Unable to withstand the attack on her mind in her weakened state, Viara and her afflicted mind, violently wrestled against Perimede on the floor. Hysterical but feeble, Viara was easily overpowered by Perimede and once in a proper headlock, the doctor held a moistened cloth over her mouth until the marchioness went limp in her arms.

Howling winds suddenly soared outward from every direction and whisked away the shroud of dust, revealing Jinthura at the center of the surging force.

“Foul demon! You corrupt the sanctity of death!” Jinthura shouted and began to hover, sparks sputtering from her glowing gold eyes and fingertips. The shrieking winds picked up and the room grew dark, only the rings of golden light appearing around her ankles and wrists shone. The air crackled with static energy and Dismas’ hair stood on end as small bits of debris started to float off the ground. Jinthura lifted one hand to the sky and pointed her other, open palm toward the enemy. A humming filled the air and then a silent stillness as if the room gasped and held its breath. Jinthura then spoke with the booming voice of a god as time and space slowed around them.

“BEHOLD…THE SPARK OF CREATION” she spoke, deep and bombastic, shaking the very air. A giant bolt of gold lightning shot forth from her hand, striking the necromancer center mast, slamming it against the altar. Lightning arched all over, shattering the ceiling completely, allowing the constellation to fully shine down upon them.

The necromancer rose slowly, wobbling on their feet, burnt flesh and cracked ribs exposed from the vestal's holy strike. It opened it’s arms to the sky and laughed maniacally at the stars above as the ground began to quake. Several skeletons clawed their way out of the broken earth before it, only to burst into crimson embers that soared into the necromancer’s wound, partially healing it’s chest.

“I am death incarnate!” it screeched. The brightest star of the ominous constellation suddenly grew in size and turned black, it’s crimson coronal light beaming brighter, eclipsing the heavens entirely. The necromancer was bathed in the red light, almost opaque as it broke over him like liquid. It cried out in pain and ecstasy from the blessing and stomped on the ground, bringing to life a large sigil of bright violet light beneath it’s feet.

Glowing purple energy swirled around the necromancer and as it raised its arm, the energy flowed upward and formed a giant spectral arm. As the evil sorcerer swung the summoned limb down on the group, Reynauld and Jinthura dashed forward to defend them. They held their weapons aloft side by side and in a brilliant flash of light, the ghostly arm dispersed in a shockwave against the holy warriors but not without consequence. Reynauld’s sword broke in half, losing it from the recoil, popping his shoulder out of joint. Jinthura’s mace had exploded, small bits of shrapnel cutting across the side of her face. The two fell backward off their feet and Dismas and Perimede stepped up to bat without hesitation.

Dismas threw his dagger at the fiend who swiftly deflected with the claw of its foul muscular arm while Perimede simultaneously lobbed several small spheres at the necromancer. Her projectiles shattered against the devil's shielding limb, exploding into a cloud of sputtering sparks and searing smoke, sending it stumbling backward. Dismas took advantage of Perimede's distraction and shot the necromancer's wounded chest.

The fiend cried out in pain, the unearthly shrill chilling them to the bone. It fell to one knee and reached out toward the closest witch corpse that had earlier sacrificed herself. The necromancer desecrated her form, raising it off the floor and with a sickening squelch, broke her body this way and that, tearing her skin and siphoning her blood to it’s injured chest. As it slowly mended itself, the necromancer stood and spoke up at the crimson heavens.

“YO’USH KAM LOVATH!” it screamed, summoning into being a large metal collar above itself in a flurry of purple fire. The five-pronged crescent sat itself on the necromancer's shoulders, framing it’s head like a vulgar halo.

Dismas shot it in the chest again, aggravating the sorcerer more than it’s wound. It’s malformed arm shot outward, stretching several feet in Dismas’ direction, the agile thief deflecting with his spare blade. He rushed the necromancer in a flurry of slashes, wielding the blade effortlessly from hand to hand, the sorcerer unable to predict where his next attack would come from. Seeing the cuts on the creature’s arms spurred Dismas on, his senses keener knowing the thing can bleed.

Perimede ran to the knight and took a knee behind him.

“Hurry, please” Reynauld panted to Perimede, having exhausted himself trying to right his arm. Anxiety and pride alike filled him as he watched Dismas’ fluency for battle, his celerity finessing the necromancer to defend rather than attack.

“On three” Perimede lied, not counting at all, immediately pulling his arm toward her while pushing at his shoulder blade with a strategically placed foot, putting everything in proper place again.

“Fight on, I must cleanse this foulness from the air” Jinthura said, suddenly close. She grimaced at the scene, fresh blood trickling from several cuts to her cheeks, her long neck slick and stained red.

“Perimede, shield her and do not exit these walls” she said. Once more the vestalis maxima opened her spirit to the upper dominion, her faith guiding celestial light into her body and soul. The winds roared and she rose above the ground, her platinum hair unfurling majestically around her head. Every molecule that formed the woman Jinthura vibrated on every conceivable frequency, creating a living dynamo of quintessent energy, becoming one with the living ether all around them. Jinthura relinquished her being and gave herself to the eternal Light, her spirit transcending the bounds of nature, connecting to the infinite cosmos.

She opened her eyes, no longer gold but bright with the infinity of space reflected in them and opened her arms to the space.

“HEAVENS…TO ME” her thundering utterance echoed throughout the room and in a brilliant flash, threw everyone off their feet, the cathedral now illuminated and sparkling. The stars above streaked across the sky in lines of light, no one sure if the cosmos were hurtling toward them or if the entire planet was soaring toward a new dimension.

Dismas’ eyes widened with awe as he watched the terrifying majesty of space magnified above him. Across the sky, a river of stars, clustered into a mass of white lights and purple mist, an arm of their own galaxy flowed endlessly by. Even the shadows cowered against the glittering light as its phosphorescence engulfed everything.

The necromancer screeched as the sinister crimson refulgence dissolved, giving way to celestial kaleidoscopic light.

Dismas stood first and quickly loaded his pistol until a flurry of chains whipped around him, binding his arms and ankles.

“Fuck” the thief said as he fell over in the tangle of chains the necromancer had sicked upon him from afar. Dismas could feel heat before seeing tiny whisps of smoke come to life, the cursed metal slowly eating away at his coat and boots. He could feel the throbbing energy twisting around him, but his terror was somehow challenged, not by courage or faith, but something else.

“Shit shit shit, ALZALAM ALZALAM ALZALAM, AL AL AL, now would be a good time to connect!” He shouted, feeling the chain's temperature rising. Dismas took a deep breath, chose acceptance, and in a way he would never understand, he gave the entity in him permission. They both called out to the magician and repeated Alzalam’s name until a familiar perfume was in the air once more. To his relief and horror, it worked, and a golden spectral tentacle suddenly snaked out from the pocketed incense. In one swift swirling motion, the tentacle laced itself through the links and instantly dissolved them before dispersing itself.

“I’m fine!” he said from the floor, seeing Reynauld stall. The crusader turned to face their enemy, wrath steeling every part of him. He unleashed a barrage of punches, unfazed by any of his foe’s attacks, several slashes from it’s claw tearing at the crusaders’ tabard, getting closer and closer to skin. They each wound up their next attack and clashed so hard, their own light and dark energy burst outward, pushing them feet apart.

“Brother” a voice whispered in Reynauld’s ear and on her hands and knees, a weary Jinthura outstretched her arm toward him. Before he could think, he saw his broken sword rise from the rubble by it’s hilt.

The necromancer balled up its clawed fist and with what little energy it had left, summoned purple flames around it’s grotesque arm and swung. Reynauld swiveled around as his blade flew into his hand and severed the demon’s incoming limb with one clean slice.

The crusader grabbed the evil sorcerer by its neck and the devil lurched forward, red beams of light shooting forth from the hole in its hood. Reynauld offered his cheek to the strike, the crimson glare breaking harmlessly across his face. He turned back to the necromancer; his scowl made more menacing by the fire sputtering forth from the corners of his mouth and eyes, Jinthura’s cosmic light-shift igniting the Flame's blessing in him.

“Aaah, a true son of the Flame. I have never had the pleasure of gorging upon a soul blessed by a god of war” the necromancer struggled to hiss, the heavenly luminescence eating away at it’s evil thaumaturgy.

“And you never will” Reynauld growled, and shoved the necromancer away from him. The crusader drew back his broken sword and in an eddy of golden flames, a blade of light sprung forth from the hilt and Reynauld swung across. The enkindled blade cleaved the necromancer’s head off in a streak of prismatic white light before dissipating, the rest of the weapon in turn dissolving in his hand.

The empyrean light slowly dimmed, and the cosmic firmament above was once again the familiar earthly sky they had been born under. The agitated constellation shrunk, dulled and darkened, left to the judgment of the heavens

Chapter Text

“And this is exactly why I didn’t want to bother. Look at this place, how could we reap anything from it...literally” Viara huffed, pulling on her horse's reins. The quartet came upon a barren expanse, a decaying and dilapidated farmstead looming in the distance.

“I am certain Alzalam’s concern is not at all the state of the crops” Reynauld said, waiting for Dismas to dismount their steed first.

“I like to think that news about a crazed zealot ravaging the countryside as a one-man inquisition is a more immediate concern and not Alzalam’s nightmares about crystals and comets” Viara said, gingerly getting off her horse to help Perimede down, the doctor having ridden sidesaddle in the graverobber’s lap.

“Yea, I really wouldn’t take Alzalam’s dreams too lightly” Dismas defended the absent mage, kicking at the ashen earth. It crunched underfoot and lifted off the ground like a fine powder, lingering in the air a moment before settling. This wasn’t like any type of terrain he’d seen before.

Dismas knelt and ground up a fistful of the alien earth, feeling a bizarre crunchy texture that got finer as he crushed it. He let the dust fall from his hand and noticed a residual blueish green sheen, the color showing even against the red of his gloves. The trees that lined the road to the property had also been transformed, grayish black as if stained by soot. He looked out at the fields before them, a desolate muted wasteland as far as the eye could see. One would first assume fire had destroyed everything, but Dismas had seen scorched land before, and this didn't compare in the slightest.

“Alzalam is right, this place is cursed” Reynauld said, observing the surrounding fields, his eyes lingering on the crumbling mill in the distance.

“I’ll eat your helmet if it isn’t” Dismas stood beside the crusader taking in the estranged acres of Viara’s substantial estate.

The derelict mill on the horizon transfixed the thief with its eerie teal glow and he was suddenly overwhelmed by a sense of grief, as if the structure itself mourned the dead earth around it.

“I’d eat his helmet to leave this place” Viara flipped her hair and adjusted her hat, grimacing at the ruined land. Her ire wasn’t for the farmstead itself but for its state, a side effect of her uncle’s abhorrent disregard for any life other than his own.

In his journals he explained, with enthusiastic disdain, that the humble miller begged for aid from his warden against a sudden blight on the land, but to no avail. The aloof Marquis decided the farmstead had become a useless appendage and denied the old man, taking the land back under the guise of foreclosure. Secretly, her uncle had turned the land surrounding the farmstead into a giant summoning circle, for a purpose he himself did not fully understand. Once more it was a feat of hubris rather than skill and whatever he had ‘reaped from beyond the void’ he would not live to see.

“This task was inevitable. The farmstead is part of the estate, and every part of this evil must be excised” Reynauld said to the sulking marchioness.

“Yes yes, we shall do all of the things Reynauld” she sighed, resenting the truth in his words.

“I hope this recon is easier than Innsmouth was” Dismas said, muffling a yawn behind his hand.

“How tragic...no organic matter anywhere it seems” Perimede chimed in, scooping up samples of the ground into a few small phials. “At least we’ll have those crystals to study if we come across any” she said quietly more to herself.

“Alzalam explicitly said not to touch any crystalline objects, structures or beings we may come across” Reynauld corrected the doctor.

“He said be wary of any strange crystals. I say we bring some back in case they're worth anything," Viara said.

“And maybe for research purposes” Perimede excitedly suggested.

“See, and maybe for research purposes” Viara backed her up.

“Or we just stay away from the weird things our occult expert said might be dangerous” Dismas challenged.

“Our goal is to discover what plagues the land, especially if some force from beyond our own world is the cause. Your ancestor has unearthed evil from the depths of the estate, I shudder to think he was able to summon anything from the stars or beyond” Reynauld said sternly, hitching up the horses to a sturdy chunk of fencing. The crusader’s sentiment collectively silenced them as they all took in the fields of cinder and shifted their perspectives back to the treacherous nature of their mission.

“Let us make for the barn up the road. Perhaps we can discover what has happened here before exploring the mill itself. Alzalam believes the mill to be the epicenter and now here before it, I agree. Something still stirs there” Reynauld said as he readied a small pack and secured his helmet.

They traveled downhill toward the farmstead and into a dense concentration of trees they hadn’t seen from their elevated height and soon came upon something fantastically surreal blocking the way. They slowly approached a gigantic standing monolith of alien masonry surrounded by slabs etched with precise geometric markings that even with their limited knowledge appeared arcane in nature. In the center of the monolith, a large circle had been carved into the stone, its substantial circumference giving the suggestion of some type of annular entrance. The trees behind it bent inward, creating a wall of petrified foliage making seeing beyond it impossible.

“I don’t like this at all” Dismas was immediately affected in the presence of the strange and menacing stonework. The entity within him stirred and he couldn’t tell if it had become excited or frightened. As they got closer, the symbols began to glow greenish blue, and slowly the middle ring rolled sideways into the standing stone, now a large circular doorway.

The crusader approached it as if to step through.

“Rey, you can’t be serious” Dismas said, grabbing the knight by the arm.

“This is the only route, and the mill is visible beyond” Reynauld said as casually as he could, but no less riddled with trepidation than the others.

“I don’t think we need to be Alzalam or Jinthura to know not to step through strange glowing doorways” Dismas contested.

“I agree with Reynauld. This obviously isn’t leading us anywhere different, and I would like this done and over with as soon as possible” Viara said, peering through the entryway.

“So, we’re just going to waltz right through it, glowing markings and all?” Dismas challenged them further, trying to ignore the slight ringing in his ears. Perimede joined Viara by the entrance and the marchioness swiftly grabbed the doctor's hand before she could touch the candescent symbols.

“Let’s not touch the strange glowing markings darling” she said, kissing the tip of her nose.

Reynauld stepped through first, extending a hand to each one after and as they examined the area around them, they found the road to be the same as on the other side of the great stone. The circular door suddenly slid shut with a grinding slam and they each jumped and turned, shocked to see the cyclopean gateway was gone, replaced by a stretch of empty dark road.

“For fucks sake” Dismas hung his head, his stomach bottoming out.

“At least now we don’t have to argue about where to go. We can't get lost if there’s only one path” Perimede smiled wide at her comrades.

“That’s exactly the point, there’s only one path and it’s not the same path we came in on, we could be literally anywhere on the estate” Dismas argued. He couldn’t speak for his teammates, but he could feel a palpable shift in the general atmosphere, not even the air smelled the same.

“She is right. Let us carry on” Reynauld nodded at the plague doctor and gently squeezed Dismas’ shoulder, he too feeling the darkness and shadows were somehow different, somehow alive.

They had been on the path for no more than ten minutes when a limping humanoid form came into view up ahead, dragging something elongated behind it. Reynauld called out as it approached but the being remained silent and continued toward them.

“Prepare yourselves” Reynauld said over his shoulders.

What had once been a man came into focus and to their horror, they saw he was more stone than flesh, grey and broken. Whole chunks were missing from his body, but an unseen force held his limbs together where pieces were lacking. Within his crevices, where blood and bone would be, there was flat rock, glowing an eerie teal. Though malformed, pain somehow registered on his misshapen face, and they felt pity as it struggled to come closer.

“Is...is it a townsperson?” Dismas squinted at the zombie-like man hobbling at them, noticing his simple clothing, solidified into a crust against his petrified body.

“Fascinating” Perimede whispered next to him, taking notes in a tiny journal.

“Really? Now?” Dismas asked, though less surprised nowadays.

“The best way to study any creature is to observe it in its natural habitat” she said.

“None of this looks natural, he barely looks human” Dismas replied.

“Exactly! Given he’s no longer a complete person, his biology must be absurd, and I must see inside him” the doctor said, far chipper than one should be given the circumstance, scribbling madly in her little book.

Though bizarre and usually borderline unethical, Dismas admired her mind and unyielding thirst for knowledge that saw her through anything. It wasn't that she had an infinite well of courage but rather a gentle apathy toward danger that teetered on complete ignorance of it even when face to face with it. Her remarkable fearlessness comforted Dismas when he journeyed with her, glad that one of them could remain sane, untouched by the unimaginable horrors.

The stone man took some semblance of a breath, sandy and hoarse, before swinging his crude farm tool at them.

Reynauld easily blocked the lazy strike and knocked the deformed man over with a swift punch. He rose shockingly fast, as if pulled up from the ground by invisible hands and suddenly from the trees another grotesquely transfigured farmhand stumbled onto the road. Their fumbling gait quickened, and they made for the group.

Perimede secured her mask and stepped ahead, quickly lobbing a pair of delicate orbs at them. Only one managed to dodge the attack with a burst of startling agility while the other took the hit. The green fluid defied Newtonian law and every drop clung to its target, instantly becoming a thick corrosive slime. The unblighted enemy reached Reynauld and swung, the simple weapon splintering against the crusader's sturdy blade. Reynauld’s return strike cut down the twisted farmhand but the force against its concrete-like form sent shockwaves to the hilt of his sword.

“Their bodies are rock-hard, strike at joints or the neck before our weapons wear too quickly” Reynauld instructed his comrades, his enemy cracking into crystalline chunks.

Viara flourished her pickaxe dramatically and smirked at the third incoming foe and effortlessly dismantled it into a pile of rubble, her choice of weapon the perfect tool against such an element. She started on a fourth emerging from the tree line, enjoying the ease with which they fell at her feet until several more appeared up the road.

“Um...does anyone see where they’re coming from?” Viara asked, the creatures mysteriously multiplying.

“No and they keep coming” Dismas barked as he reloaded, frustrated that his pistol shots were doing minimal damage from afar. He lunged at the closest enemy and managed to penetrate its rock like skin, and the cursed farmhand grabbed at Dismas’ collar while the thief struggled to pull his dagger loose. They wrestled for a moment until Dismas managed to bring his pistol to the thing's face, the point-blank shot forcing them apart.

Perimede came to his aid and jammed a small bomb into another enemy's face, shoving it away before it could swing at Dismas.

“Your hand!” Dismas gasped, seeing her glove covered in neon green viscous.

“Oh no worries, I've treated all our outer garments with an oil coating to protect against most fluids. It’s actually thanks to the Hag’s throw up and skin that I was able to create it!” she said, smearing the acid from her hand onto his sleeve before she casually wiped it away, showing nary a blemish on his coat. He sighed, not sure when or how she managed to get her hands on any of his clothing but knew this was no time to wonder.

“That was really one of the most enjoyable autopsies I've ever experienced. Gods I would love more specimens from her” she said, haphazardly shaking the residual acid off her hand.

They struck down one cursed farmhand after another but soon realized they couldn’t keep up with the growing mob much longer.

“Fall back!” Reynauld commanded, using his holy scroll to scorch several of their malformed enemies in a blast of golden light. The party rushed back down the road but stopped abruptly as a terrifying figure stepped out of the shadows.

A gruesome specter of a horse, made of rock and crystal stood before them, screeching wildly, locking onto Dismas and galloping toward him at top speed.

Skidding to a halt before him, it bucked its hind legs at the thief but just before the strike made contact, Reynauld threw an entire farmhand at it, the human shield taking the stallion’s hefty kick. Chunks of crystal careened into Dismas, the force just enough to knock him over rather than cause injury. Reynauld leapt at the equine abomination and put all his weight behind a wide lateral swing. He managed to cut down its front legs and as it bowed, Viara rushed to them and brought her pickaxe down between the creature’s eyes.

The crystalline horse went limp and crumbled into wedges and shards, the green blue glow from inside it slowly fading.

“Ha! I could do this all night!” Viara exclaimed, swinging at one human aberration after another.

“Viara we can't stay here!” Dismas shouted.

Suddenly from behind, a throng of prismatic enemies lumbered toward them, leaving them with only the option to push through the thinning crowd in front of them, and escape deeper into the farmstead. Once further up the path, with some distance between them and the mob of husks, Perimede stopped short.

“Wait!” she said, grabbing Dismas, thrusting her pack into his arms and heaving a huge jug out.

“Perimede isn’t this supposed to be filled with food?!” Dismas exclaimed, the large pack now empty and flaccid.

“We can stall them with this, shoot it just before it hits the ground” she cradled the jar low in both hands, spun twice and hammer tossed it toward their enemies with surprising velocity.

Dismas was thankfully a quick enough shot and shattered the doctor's vessel of fluorescent liquid inches above the ground. Instantly, massive plumes of yellow gas and flames erupted outward in every direction, the blast forcing them off their feet.

The gas spun itself into a burning foam, undulating across the dead earth while the fire feasted on the air, roaring up toward the heavens creating a blazing wall before them.

“Are you two alright?!” Reynauld said, seeing both knocked on their asses.

“What the fuck Peri!” Dismas shouted as he sat up.

“Sorry” Perimede said, helping Reynauld lift the thief to his feet.

“What the hell is happening?!” Viara gasped at the virulent mustard-colored flames.

“Well, it can be difficult to explain. You see, there are solvents, solutions, pollutants, and poisons, flammable, volatile, explosive, you can go on and on. Let’s see there’s-”

“Perimede!” her teammates barked in unison.

“Ok! Maybe it’s not supposed to be this potent...I might have put too much methane, I think, or ammonia maybe. I’m not sure really” she chuckled and snorted, now thinking to herself.
“Whatever it is, it looks like it’s working just fine at buying us time” Viara said too soon.

In a sudden swoosh and pop, the flames vanished, lingering putrid smoke the only evidence left of a fire. Perimede removed her mask and put her nose in the air, sniffing rapidly.

“AH HA! It was too much acetone!” Perimede exclaimed, once again scribbling in her tiny book.

The abrupt crack of a whip drew everyone’s attention beyond the fumes.

A legless but towering figure glided toward them, most of its shattered and calcified body held together by a strange teal mist. It pointed its fractured arm at them and bellowed deeply, the unearthly sound making their hair stand on end. The farmhands that flanked the foreman rushed ahead, and he whipped at them, each strike spurring the pawns on and forming large crystals on them like armor.

“Perimede, please-” Viara grabbed the doctor's arm as she dug into her satchel.

“I only have flash and acid bombs left...I promise” she said crestfallen, though her acid was extremely effective against their concrete foes. Her bombs and Viara's syringes of corrosive fluid created points of vulnerability, allowing them to easily cut down one after the other.

The foreman flung his subordinates out of his way, finally reaching the party. He whipped at Viara, the graverobber only quick enough to shield her face, the rest of the attack lashing across her torso. She fell backward, managing to throw one more syringe, piercing her attacker’s neck, her own wounds thankfully more superficial. Perimede ran to Viara’s side, quickly splashed a healing salve across her belly and swung her kris at the creature's neck. The monstrous foreman grabbed Perimede by the wrist and launched her at the nearest tree, not noticing Dismas had been right behind her. The thief wasted no time and shot the humanoid atrocity pointblank in the face, breaking off whatever it had left of a jaw. Pushed backward, the foreman had enough space now to brandish his whip, wrapping itself around Dismas’ calf, dragging him closer.

“Dismas!” Reynauld shouted and flourished his blade around him, cutting down several enemies at once, until he reached the thief and sliced through the whip pulling at him.

The foreman backhanded Reynauld out of his way and tried to grab Dismas’ ankle as the thief struggled to get up. Viara tossed a smoke bomb at the foreman, wincing against the healing sting of Perimede’s potion. The foreman roared, waving away the burning smoke and gutted a nearby farmhand with his claws. He pulled away and a fresh whip materialized into being from the farmhand’s belly, the poor bastard crumbling into a pile of crystal. Their towering foe cracked his whip at them wildly, the party dispersing in every direction to avoid the attacks. Suddenly, chunks of their shattered enemies soared through the air and collided together in a flash of brilliant light to form one floating prismatic geode. They stood transfixed watching it twitch as if alive and even the foreman’s disfigured face appeared confused. When the large stone began to vibrate and glow, the foreman made an attempt to strike it, but another flash flooded all visible space with blinding white light.
The ground shook violently beneath their feet and as their eyes regained focus, they were inconceivably relocated. A chilling turquoise light descended upon them, and they found themselves in an unimagined space alive with motion and having no semblance of anything on earth, no discernable sky or horizon. They were swallowed by a living breathing madness, banished to a void between reality and uninhibited chaos. Laws of nature and physics bent and broke, were written and unwritten, gravity a forsaken suggestion. Space fractured and faceted like the many colliding crystals soaring in every direction, their random chunk of earth hurtling through limitless pandemonium.

“Where the fuck are we?!” Viara asked, stepping away from the crumbling edge of their floating rock, dizzied by the limitless swirling cosmos beneath them.

“No…this can’t be happening” Dismas was stunned seeing a patch of cypress swamp, materializing only feet across from them. Immediately the thief and plague doctor recognized the blighted flora, by sight but more so by its abusive odor.

“More specimens!” Perimede squealed and rushed to pick at the cursed fungi.

“PERIMEDE GET AWAY FROM THERE!” Reynauld shouted.

From the small undulating pool of swamp, the monstrous Hag stepped out into the foul light. The reborn monstrosity swung her crude mallet at Perimede, missing her target as Viara’s dagger pierced her bosom, giving the doctor opportunity to flee. Her guttural screech instilled the same fear in Dismas as it did the first time he heard it, only now Obi wasn't there to intercept her as she bum-rushed him. He deflected her crude meat tenderizer, though unable to keep his balance against her terrible strength. Reynauld leapt over the thief and began to combat the hag, their blows reverberating through the vivid alien atmosphere.

“Is this the swamp witch from the weald?” Viara asked, taking a stance beside Dismas, waiting for an opening to assist Reynauld.

“Yes!” Dismas and Perimede answered with wildly different intonation, the plague doctor practically bouncing on her heels with excitement.

“Perimede now is absolutely not the time” Dismas said, his shot missing the Hag as she and Reynauld remained locked in the flow of combat.

“How is this happening? I thought you killed her!” Viara shouted over the howling winds, launching another dagger that nearly hit the crusader.

“How is any of this happening?” Perimede asked, more intrigued by their surroundings than afraid.

“I really don’t care; I just hope she can die again” Dismas said, loading his pistol. Before he could take aim at the Hag, fungal monsters appeared out of thin air and rushed them, scattering the trio.

“UGH!” Viara gasped, caught off guard. Dismas tackled her out of the way of its surprisingly agile attack while Perimede sliced at another’s spongy flesh. The doctor stabbed until it collapsed into an oozing heap, not noticing another incoming beast. Dismas shot at the fiend behind Perimede but was barely able to deter it, its weakened strike still connecting. The plague doctor stumbled but kept her footing, enough to grapple with the monster’s onslaught, hand and knife deadlocked.

“V!” Dismas shouted, motioning with his chin at Perimede who had ended up furthest away.

Dismas knelt on one knee as Viara rushed over and launched herself off the thief’s cupped hands, flying at the fungal foe, the boost helping to easily close the gap between them. The graverobber took the terrible beast down, her dagger dug deep into where a neck would be and rolled off the flailing thing as Dismas finished it off with a stomp to its chest. Viara tended to Perimede and Dismas turned at the familiar horrifying screech of the Hag, followed by her vile retching. Reynauld shoved her and ripped his vomit covered helmet off, backing away disgusted and appalled. Dismas wasted no time and shot her throat out and as she gripped it, choking on her own blood, Reynauld swung with all his body horizontally across her bloated stomach. In an instant, a large jagged teal crystal burst forth from her, stunning them all with its fierce greenish light.

Once again, the ground vibrated and the slab they fought on was flat and barren once more, the infinite alien space still surrounding them. Only Perimede remained conscious as her friends succumbed to the spellbinding light. The doctor removed her mask to throw up, the phosphorescence attempting to penetrate her mind, benign scenes of her past flashing before her eyes, only dizzying her until she shook them off.

The unnatural crystal of prismatic distortion hovered above the ground, its shape altering and twitching, the suggestion of an eye in its center jerked every which way. She stood and looked around at her comrades, confused at each one's' state of being. Viara lay motionless on the ground and Dismas on his knees while Reynauld stood facing the edge of the rocky plane. Fearing Viara may have been struck dead, she went to her first and sighed in relief, feeling her heartbeat. Perimede checked her pulse and tried to shake her awake unaware that their consciousness had been claimed, now beyond even this demented pocket of space and time. Her mind buzzed, thinking of any possible solution and immediately began to rummage through her satchel, a hint of fear budding in her chest for the first time.

Viara woke up in a darkened bedroom, the floor to ceiling windows allowing silvery light to flood the heavily decorated space, casting ominous shadows across the white marble floor. She tumbled off the brocade chaise, tripping on her lengthy gown. Viara stood up on wobbly feet, blinking against the stark darkness that challenged the moonlight. Blood rushed to her face, blurring her vision as she stumbled to a nearby chair and held her head in her hands, trying to stop the room from spinning. The table came into focus, and she slowly started to recognize the items before her. The silver brush and ivory comb, the gilded hair pins and pearl handled fan. Her hands shook over the objects, slowly noticing more until she looked up at the gaudy vanity mirror and gasped, flying off the chair, terrified by her own image.

She groped at the fine embroidered silk of her gown, gawked at the exceptional rings on her hands, touching at her hefty earrings and elegantly styled hair piled high atop her head. Her heart began to race and the corset that held her like a vice made breathing even more difficult as she recognized the large room. Viara stepped away from the vanity and grabbed at anything to steady herself. The wood she touched stung her hand and she turned to find a flamboyant four-poster bed behind her. She could barely breathe; vulgar images of her past infiltrated her mind.

“I can hardly remember a night you did not recoil from that bed...our bed” a husky voice said from the shadows behind her. Viara’s eyes widened and needles like ice ran down her spine, fear taking up every inch of space in her breathless chest. The fireplace across the room burst to life, the inky darkness clashing with its orange light, illuminating the figure sitting beside it only just.

“Henri” she whispered, paralyzed by terror.

“Will you not face your husband?” His smooth voice irked her, and goosebumps broke out all over her skin. She turned when the smell of alcohol stung her nostrils, finding him nearer while sipping a brandy. Nothing about him had changed, he was still handsome, his smile still dashing, his mustache still well groomed, his tall frame strong and wide. She hated everything everyone loved about this man mostly out of sheer spite, though his inner ugliness made it easy, nonetheless. Viara would never have chosen him, and she hadn’t, he was chosen for her all those years ago.

“I must say, I’ve not seen you wear such an expression. How refreshing to see you capable of more than disdain and malice when facing me, though I had grown fond of it after some time. The little crinkle in your nose when I got too near was my favorite” he smirked, gulping down the brown liquor.

“Your mustache always had too much pomade” she muttered in disbelief. Viara couldn’t understand how any of it was happening, she felt drunk and weak, the impossibility of it all more than she could comprehend.

“Come mon cher, embrace your husband…as is your duty” he closed the space between them, his smirk wicked. He grabbed her by the arm, and she was at once repulsed, the heat from his hand making her feel sick.

“He-Henri” she stuttered, the shock and strength of his grip resurrecting a panic she had long buried. Henri tried to pull her close and she fought against it only for him to grab her other arm.

“Ah, the resistance” he forced himself closer. “The fight in you is what I loved, the opportunity to break you intoxicated me” he whispered in her ear, inhaling deep from her neck. Shock wore off and she struggled harder, thrusting her knee into his groin. He laughed and began to kiss her neck.

“Get off me!” she screamed in his ear. He released her but once at arm’s length he slapped Viara into the vanity behind her. She grabbed the closest object and slammed it against his head, the porcelain powder box breaking across his face. Unaffected by the strike, he slapped her again.

“Defiance” he growled, lifting her off the ground by her hair and forced her against the vanity once more, its mirror shattering. “Just like our first night as husband and wife” Henri breathed, pushing himself against her from behind, the alcohol on his breath penetrating her mind with more memories she tried to erase.

“You mean you’ll be getting too drunk for you or your dick to properly stand” she snarled, elbowing him in the chin and shoving him off her. Viara swiftly took a shard of mirror and sliced at his neck, the fragment breaking against his rock-hard skin and cutting her palm instead. She backed away, frightened by the pain and perverse hunger in his eyes, still unable to understand where or when she was.

“This isn’t real, you’re dead, you’ve been dead!” she shouted to herself, shaking her head, feeling insanity seeping slowly into her. Viara pressed at her temples, swearing she could hear her name while his laugh echoed off the walls. She dug her nails into her scalp as specters floated on the periphery of her mind, clutching at them, struggling to remember, knowing wherever she existed now was a fraudulent reality.

“Of course, this is real mon cher” Henri moved toward her, unbuttoning his top buttons and cuffing up his sleeves.

“Nothing was or is real about us; in your lifetime and whatever twisted hell this is!” she barked, trying to control her breathing. She knew this place, knew the chateau she’d been locked away in once married, knew this room where many nights she had fought for and lost her dignity.

“I tried to make this place as comfortable as possible, you had to NEVER GO WITHOUT!” he screamed, tearing off his shirt completely, suddenly furious, his eyes glowing green. Viara shook with rage but was debilitated by fear, wanting nothing more than to strangle him, but could only step back like cornered prey.

“Comfortable for who?! You sat on your ass and did nothing all thanks to the title MY name gave you!” she yelled, finding courage and slapping him, his face feeling like marble.

“I HAD A NAME!” He grabbed at her but couldn’t catch the lithe graverobber.

“You had NOTHING! A lowly drunkard and bastard son of a dead baronet with NOTHING!”

“This house was mine!” Henri caught her by the wrist.

“It was your mother’s that she only got when she spawned you and you only got it when she finally died, the miserable whore that she was!” She punched him but he wouldn’t release her.

“So says the daughter of a backwater marquis!”

“A marquis with money! I had the money and the rank, and it meant fuck all because I don’t have a cock, that I at least would have known how to use!”

“All you had was money! Money with no prospects because of the whiny spoiled BITCH that you are! I rebuilt BOTH OF OUR LIVES!” he shouted, hitting her again, refusing to let go.

“And you lost it all to gambling debts and smuggling cheap wine like an idiot man! You were a joke at court, and you died a joke in the dirt! You gave me nothing and LEFT ME WITH LESS!” She spat blood in his face and smashed a nearby vase over his head with her free hand, the vessel harmlessly breaking like water against him.

“You were a nobody, and your family was a pack of degenerate nobodies” Henri growled, pinning her to the floor, his hands wrapping tightly around her throat.

“Ha, you’re so pathetic even my mad uncle knew you weren’t worth the hair on his ass” she could barely utter, his grip tightening. Mentioning her ancestor triggered something in her and suddenly she could hear her name again over the thumping blood in her ears. She recognized the voice and could see the face but couldn’t remember. As her name grew louder, tears blurred her vision and she tried desperately to hold onto the sweet visage, the gentle green eyes and fair skin. She would focus on it until her last breath.

From behind her ill-fated spouse, a crow sang at the window, and she swore it was the one speaking her name before everything went black.

Chapter Text

Perimede plunged the syringe into Viara’s heart and barely a second passed before the marchioness gasped to life, clutching her chest.

“It worked!” Perimede cried out, tears streaming down her face, squeezing Viara in her arms. She watched the color coming back to Viara’s face and even amongst the chaos in this bizarre sphere, she felt hope blossom.

“What the fuck just happened” Viara said trying to catch her breath, sitting up to see they were still hurtling through unstable green colored space. “The short of it my love” she added seeing Perimede taking a good long breath.

“Your heart rate was dropping and then stopped, so I used a type of hyper stimulant I created to shock the heart and brain into a type of…restart? From what I understand about magic, enough physical stress to the target could override its effects. I think? Anyway, it works” she explained, holding up an empty syringe.

“Did I die?” Viara tried to collect herself.

“Yes and no?” she asked more than answered.

“The others?” Viara set aside the many questions about how the doctor achieved what she did.

“In the same state as you I'm guessing, which I'm not sure what that state even is” Perimede said, motioning to their two friends, entranced in the same way Viara had been. Viara’s heart dropped seeing Dismas on his knees, pointing his gun at his temple and Reynauld near the edge of their platform, horrified imagining what tormented hell they had been sent to.

“We have to wake them up!” she said, rushing to the closest of the two.

“Open his coat and vest, the needle can't break through the leather” Perimede instructed while filling another syringe.

Dismas came to in a darkened forest, painted black and white by shadow and snow, the freezing air sending shivers up and down his body. It was oddly familiar and the more he took the area in, his heart began to race. He tried to step forward only to find his legs paralyzed, leaving him concealed in the shadows of the tree line. He knew this road, remembered the cold he couldn’t wait to get out of, remembered the idea of incoming spoils. He tried to piece together his memory of this place until the clopping of hooves could be heard in the distance and his chest tightened, immediately recalling why he lay in wait.

“No…” he whispered, a familiar carriage coming into view on the pearlescent road, draped by thick moonbeams breaking through the snow blanketed treetops. Suddenly there were footsteps nearby and to his shock he saw himself, crouched in the wet powder and at the ready.

“No no, wait wait wait” he said, pulling and beating his legs trying to set himself free.

“NO! GET OFF THE ROAD!” he yelled at the carriage driver, the shadows devouring his voice.

“Stop! Don’t shoot! It’s not the merchant!” he cried out at the specter of himself, overcome by terror knowing what the carriage truly holds. He flinched at the gunshot and shattering glass, watching himself leap from the shadows to cut down the startled driver. Suddenly Dismas was there on the road at the opened carriage door and not his fraudulent self, watching the innocent mother and child bleeding out, their eyes blackened by death.

“Oh gods no!” he yelled, backing away, shaking his head in his hands, until suddenly he was back in the shadows of the trees, watching himself ready for the incoming carriage once more. The scene played out again and again until somehow Dismas finally broke free and ran to his other self.

“Don’t do this!” He pleaded to deaf ears, his past-self taking no notice of him. “I beg you please, they’re innocent! That greedy bastard isn’t in there!” He shouted at himself, pulling desperately at his frozen arm, turning away every time the gunshot rang in his ears, only to appear before the fallen mother and child again.

“Please don’t…I…I didn’t know” he sobbed, the frigid air cutting at his lungs, his tears stinging his cheeks like burns, still trying to move his other’s arm.

“Oh no, you didn’t know?” his false self gently hissed, turning to him while still holding his pistol aimed at the approaching carriage.

“He lied to me, he told me that con man was on delivery that night, I thought it was him” he implored upon himself. His twin sneered at him, his mouth curling into a thin devilish grin.

“You pulled the trigger Dismas, their blood is on your hands. Is that why you wear her locket necklace, hmm? Does it still sting your neck some nights? Is this why you wear red gloves? You never used to, and did you really need a new pair?” he whispered menacingly, his reptilian eyes shining a haunting teal.

“I’d never have come if I knew…I’m not a monster” Dismas wept.

“Does the snake imagine he’s a monster when he swallows the hare? It is simply in your nature Dismas, you feed and feed and none are too innocent for your maw” the twin scorned him and shot again, putting Dismas through it all once more. Finally, it became too much, and he could no longer entreat upon his alter ego.

Grieving for himself and the innocent family, Dismas stepped in front of his own pistol and waited.

“Aw…how sweet. You actually think such a sacrifice will assuage your guilt? Even now, you act greedily in the name of yourself, for what you want and what you need. They’re dead Dismas, and however you choose to expire will do nothing to change that. You will take this with you to hell and their cold bleeding bodies will lie with you for eternity” he hissed and cocked the pistol at Dismas’ forehead.

“DISMAS STOP!” Viara yelled, pulling the thief’s gun away from his temple just in time for the shot to graze his forehead. Shaking and gasping for air from Perimede’s concoction, Dismas fell into Viaras arms.

“it’s not real, it’s over...it’s over” Viara held the thief close. Perimede wasted no time and began to prepare a needle for Reynauld, almost glad for the chance for a third test. Suddenly green lighting struck the platform, and the large floating crystal formation shook violently. Vicious winds and light surged forth, cracking the ground, and forcing them apart. Perimede toppled over and heard breaking glass as her satchel broke her fall. She frantically rummaged through the bag only to find everything wet and broken.

“What the hell is going on?!” Dismas asked, seeing the knight near the edge of their floating plateau, staring out at oblivion. Perimede looked to Viara, anxious and afraid, the marchioness immediately understanding.

“Is there any- “Viara asked, hoping against the worst.

“No…it’s all gone” the doctor said, shards of glass tumbling from her open hands.

“What’s happening?!” Dismas shouted at them.

“Her solution, it’s what woke us up, but it’s all gone and...Reynauld” Viara tried to find the words to explain.

“He’s stuck like that” Dismas could barely utter, terrified the knight was trapped in some dreadful prison of his mind. Fear crackled through him like lightning when Reynauld began to take slow steps toward the plane’s edge.

The crystal violently lashed out again and this time the small piece of eldritch being Dismas had inherited, turned his head toward the vile prism, whispering answers to him.

“That’s what’s doing this!” Dismas yelled over the now deafening gale all around them.

“Not for long” Viara took up her pickaxe and made for the crystal, Perimede in tow.

Dismas ran to Reynauld.

Reynauld smiled at the gentle breeze caressing his face, both pleasantly heated by the sun. The hour painted the field before him gold, and he inhaled deep of the crisp air, the slight northern chill no match for the warm heavenly light of dusk or dawn. Astrakhan apple trees in the distance flowed in unison like olive-colored waters guided by the wind. He adored this time of year, having one foot in each season.

He could see a humble but stately manor not too far off, both grief and joy washing over him. He knew this place; it was comforting to behold but shadowed by a lingering fear or was it regret? A woman stepped out into the front garden of the manor and began to tend to the greenery.

“Rose” his heart clenched seeing her, the woman who had been good to him, kind to him, a perfect companion and even better mother to their child. Just as he recalled his son, there he was, flying from the house to tease his mother, who happily obliged, and chased him about the garden. His eyes welled with tears, their laughter making his heart sing, surpassing the sorrow of their past, of when he had left them to follow the crusade. Reynauld’s smiling squeezed the tears from his eyes, but his voice caught in his throat, he couldn’t bring himself to call out, to face them after everything that’s happened. Would she understand? Of course she would, and the thought broke his heart, knowing her capacity to forgive and more so her capacity to love.

He took a step forward and the ground began to rumble joined by the all too familiar muffled sound of galloping hooves. A small cavalry abruptly burst out of the orchard, warriors riding in livery he couldn’t recognize but knew for certain to be enemies.

They raced toward the manor, and as Reynauld attempted to do the same, lengths of paper erupted from the ground and wrapped around his wrists and ankles like chains. He looked down, shocked to see the verses glowing blueish green on the sturdy paper.

He pulled desperately at his binds watching as the charging force chased his family into their home. The screaming was more than he could bear, their cries echoing across the field, begging for their lives. More paper tethers burst forth from behind him when he tried to look away, wrapping around his neck and forehead, forcing him to watch. Reynauld roared and raged as they were dragged outside and butchered, the manor set ablaze.

In a flash of light, the season shifted to winter and still bound in place, Reynauld now faced a newly rebuilt manor. Once again, a foreign troop stormed his family, their deaths playing over again in a new horrific way. Then it was sweltering summer, and then an autumn night, and then rainy spring. He watched over and over as they died, left in the dirt, propped up on crosses, strung up in the orchard or taken away all together.

The paper finally released him, and he fell to his hands and knees, trying to recite the verse through his sobbing, trying to believe that regret is a sin, but the hallowed words burned like ash in his mouth. Grief stricken, Reynauld stood up and slowly walked toward his burning home.

“Reynauld! Reynauld wake up! Wake up!” Dismas stood in front of the enthralled crusader as he stepped closer to the edge of the floating platform, with only endless space beneath them. Dismas pushed with all his might, his feet digging into the ground, carving tracks against the immovable knight. He couldn’t understand how stiff a bulwark he had become, unable to move any part of him while his legs continued their march. “Reynauld look at me please. It isn’t real, what you're seeing isn't real, it’s all lies” pushing against the crusader with all his might. “You’re a good man, a strong man, better than this, better than your past. Reynauld please!” Dismas pleaded, pounding on his chest. The knight’s pace remained unchanged, his unblinking eyes glowing green.

Viara glanced at the struggling thief and continued to slam against the large glowing crystal with all her might. She swung and swung, Perimede helping with rock after rock as they broke against the impenetrable crystal formation, its facets barely tarnished by their attacks.

“Rey, love, it’s me, it’s your foul-mouthed thief, please hear me, please wake up” Dismas begged. “Dammit WAKE UP!” he yelled, the encroaching edge sapping him of all hope.

“GODS DAMN YOU!” Viara slammed on the morphing prism until her pickaxe’s handle broke into pieces, the crystalline thing lashing out ferocious gusts wind. Without hesitation she picked up the head of her weapon with bloodied fingers, searching for any weak point to stop this vile alien menace from taking them.

“Reynauld...please...please don't leave me” Dismas sobbed, pressing his forehead to the crusader’s lips, his pace unchanged.

Dismas wrapped his arms around Reynauld’s neck and surrendered to their fate. He would join him, wherever the fall would lead them, whatever realm beyond the infinite ether, they would be together. Dismas closed his eyes and held memories between them close, cherishing secret kisses, nights of passion and laughter, stolen glances from across rooms. Dismas buried his face in Reynauld’s neck, gently scratching the crusader’s beard, taking in the scent of the abbey’s incense in his hair.

Perimede and Viara continued the onslaught and finally a protruding hunk broke off and the plague doctor abandoned her crude rock to strike at the crystal with one of its own broken facets.

“TOGETHER!” she yelled over the winds to Viara, and they each held their weapons up and came at the crystal from either side, creating a crack directly down the middle. It shook violently to deter their attacks, but they kept their footing and struck it repeatedly until, in a stunning flash, it shattered. The howling shockwave was disturbingly human and went through them like a tidal wave, body and spirit. For a moment everything went white, the party flying off their feet, floating in between worlds, in a peacefully silent nothingness.

Their infinite moment in the stark white of oblivion dissolved and they found themselves inside the barn they had noticed on the path to the mill, that once inside appeared to be more of a living space than anything else. The large building was mostly destroyed, the roof practically nonexistent, shattered pillars leaning precariously against broken walls. The stillness was an active element, locking everything in place, trapped for eternity in their last moments. They set up camp quickly, hoping the mechanical activity would take any degree of edge off. The party could barely speak, no one ready to revisit their time in that fractured reality. The ensuing hush smothered the space, and even the campfire was a whisper against the dark, the flames no match for the otherworldly shadows surrounding them.

Perimede held Viara close and tended the fire while Dismas ached to be near Reynauld. The crusader kept his distance, his chest empty and cold, while Dismas needed more than anything to be held.

“Rey...Perimede managed to save some water, maybe have a drink?” Dismas was as gentle as he could while still being audible.

“No thank you” Reynauld barely turned his head to answer, the gesture all he could manage, hollowed out and numb as he was. Dismas held back tears, grieving for them both, overwhelmed by the need to comfort and be comforted.

“We won’t make it against another horde so we’re leaving once we all get some rest,” the thief said to the knight’s back.

“I cannot rest here, but you sleep...I will keep watch” Reynauld muttered, unable to face him, tears threatening to spill over.

“Uh, gentlemen” Viara interrupted the silence, she and Perimede backing away from the fire towards them, barely able to make out the shrouded figure slowly approaching. Dreading another battle so soon after their ordeal, the party drew their weapons as the creature reached the fire and illuminated its horribly disfigured self. The crone-like being hovered just above the ground, as stony and petrified as their earlier enemies, much of her lower half nonexistent. Blue smoke snaked out from beneath her hooded robes, empty eye sockets aglow the same eerie color. She laboriously raised her cracking arm and pointed at them and then at Perimede’s satchel, turning her palm upwards.

“Darling, what’s in the satchel?” Viara asked from the side of her mouth, eyes fixed on the pitiful creature, struggling to keep her shaking arm up.

“My specimens from the weald, or whatever iteration of the weald that was” she said.

“Give it to her” Dismas whispered, his hand at his holster.

“But-” she tried to argue.

“Perimede we can get you all the fungus and flowers you want from the weald another time, just give her the damn satchel” Viara said sternly to the sullen plague doctor. Perimede moved slowly to her bag and gasped.

“My specimens!” she said, holding the bag open for them to see it filled with chunky glowing crystals and not the various fungi she had collected. The petrified crone inhaled a quick rattling breath, obviously more aware than they were as to the surprise contents of the doctor's pack. Reynauld held his hand out to Perimede who ceded, and the knight carefully approached the stranger. She snatched the bag from him and held it closer to her chest before she and their campfire disappeared in a flurry of green flame. As suddenly as their campfire went out, the dilapidated fireplace nearby roared to life and before it, bathed in a warm orange glow, was a substantial basket of food stuffs.

“Thank the gods” Dismas shamelessly made for the food and bit into the first piece of fruit he could reach, relishing in the plump juicy flesh. All but Reynauld partook in the bounty, remarking about quickly scouting the direction their visitor had come from. Viara joined him to give Dismas and Perimede a chance to doze off. As afraid as Dismas was to close his eyes, he was surprisingly rested when Viara woke him out of a dreamless sleep sometime later.

“Come my love, let’s get the hell out of here” she gently roused the thief.

“What time is it?” he yawned, rubbing his eyes, almost forgetting where they were.

“Who knows. The sky is still dark above this god forsaken place and I can't find my pocket watch” she said and went to Perimede. Dismas sat up and prepared his belongings, checking his pistol was loaded first, a long-nurtured habit with so many days and nights on the road.

“You alright?” Dismas walked to the knight who remained frozen in his stance at the exit facing the grey expanse.

“Yes” he lied. “Did you sleep well?” Reynauld was able to croak out, his recently exhumed fears still choking him. His eyes burned from behind his helmet, the visions still as vicious as before, seeing them clearly with every blink, the sounds keenly accompanying anything his ears took in. Half of him had prayed for the comfort of death and the rest of him couldn’t conceivably bear to sin in such a way, to abandon those around him. Reynauld imagined perhaps this was his punishment, to live torn between a ravenous yearning for the peace of oblivion, but terrified by the thought of leaving anyone again, leaving him.

“Well enough, though this is probably the worst place I've ever laid my head” Dismas halfheartedly chuckled, trying to sound light.

“Have you prepared to leave, we should get back to the Hamlet as soon as possible” the crusader turned to face the thief, keeping his visor down, terrified that what haunted him would be plain on his face, blatantly staring back out at Dismas from behind his eyes.

“Rey are you-” Dismas began.

“I'm alright. I just need...” Reynauld’s voice caught in his throat, and he had no idea how to continue. He had managed this long without explaining his past as anything but simply leaving home for the crusade, not truly lying but not disclosing everything. His former life forced itself on him agonizingly so, and the thought of having to lay his shame bare before Dismas terrified him.

“Time, it’s the only thing any of us needs after...all that” Dismas tried to soothe him in some way, truly confident in his own words after spending years quelling his own guilt. Reynauld wanted so much to believe him, but every memory stung him from skin to bone.

“Time indeed” he muttered quietly, remorse overpowering the ache to hold the highwayman.

Thunder abruptly pealed from above and the foundation of the ruined barn began to crumble all around them. The fireplace erupted with teal flames, lightning exploding forth and shattering more and more of the building. They quickly evacuated, dodging chunks of stone and lightning alike, until they stood outside, watching the building crumble into a heap of ash and shattered stone.

The team stood dazed and confused at the surprisingly small pile of rubble that the barn had been so quickly reduced to. The moon suddenly broke through the clouds and they were engulfed by a giant shadow, and to their horror, now directly behind them, loomed the forlorn and forgotten mill.

The ghostly landmark glowed with eerily throbbing lights from within, small pieces of brick and planks shifting in and out of place on the outer walls. The entire building creaked, tilting and swaying at the middle as if wantonly trying to tip over.

They paused before the sinister edifice, inducing fear in them wholly molecular.

“Well, I say we take a look around?” Perimede confidently suggested, trying to peek in through the broken bricks.

“I agree. We have overcome the trials set before us thus far, it would be a waste to stop now” Reynauld said resolutely, staring at the foreboding structure.

“Maybe we shouldn’t push our luck” Dismas suggested, rubbing the small self-inflicted wound on his forehead, feeling the locket weigh heavy around his neck.

“As much as I want to leave, I want even less to come back or send anyone else for that matter. Let’s just have a look and finish this” Viara said softly to Dismas, out voting the thief.

They looked to one another for confidence and found none, collectively taking a deep breath. Reynauld easily broke through the splintered aperture and led them through the newly made entrance. Fear crept into them as they stepped into the mill’s tenebrous belly, unable to grasp its true dimensions, the walls and ceiling falling away into unknown depths of abyssal darkness. They waded torch-less through a haunting semidarkness, scattered blue-green crystal formations creating a surreal and alien ambience. Their footsteps echoed in the dark; the thin air akin to the vacuum of upper atmospheres as if a pocket of space had swallowed the mill whole.

Muttering suddenly came from the shadows, and with weapons already drawn, they moved into formation behind Reynauld. A strange aura suddenly coated the ground in a dim teal light, illuminating a grey skinned figure seated before them.

“Y…your Grace” the distorted voice of a man spoke.

Reynauld turned to Viara, her eyes wide from shock hearing the honorific.

“Just one more harvest…one more season. I beg you...please your Grace” the huddled man begged.

“Who are you?” Viara’s voice shuddered, his crooked back straightening as she approached.

“Please m’ lord...my family has been loyal” he whispered, hoarse and pitiful.

“My lord?” Viara gasped.

Once close enough, the emaciated man spun around only from waist up, grabbing at the terrified marchioness, flesh like leather hanging from exposed cracking bones.

“Please your Grace, anything, anything will do!” the scream echoed from his gaping mouth, frozen in a perpetual scream. Viara backed away from the skeletal man as he crawled toward her, his backward legs breaking off and left behind. He scraped and scraped along the ground, fingers breaking off and empty eye sockets glowing blue. Viara’s eyes welled with tears, mortified by the wretched creature, somehow certain this was the miller her uncle had forsaken.

“We are humble folk your Grace, we can only do so much with such a blight on the land, I beg you m’lord, we have so little to take!” His voice chimed like glass shattering, bouncing off the walls, growing louder and louder. They watched on as the skeletal miller shook and shivered into a pile of bones and dust.

Without warning the earth quaked and the mill violently shuddered. The ground cracked open and green crystals erupted forth from various surfaces all around them. Prismatic light surged up from beneath their feet and ghostly vapors lifted the miller’s remains into the air, creating a macabre swirling vortex of crystal and bone. The amorphous eddy took shape and soon before them stood a fully realized Miller, monstrous and petrified, wreathed in teal smoke, giant scythe in hand.

They watched horrified as the colossal fiend screamed into the air, shaking the foundations of the building. The stone specter swiped wildly with his vicious scythe, breaking chunks off of the walls and floor, chasing the fleeing party outside.

The quaking earth knocked them off their feet as the ground surrounding the mill ruptured, creating a mote of cracked stone and jagged crystal. Now trapped, they turned to face the howling Miller, the woeful sound sending chills up and down their spines. He rushed the party, and they barely dodged the wide slice, his thundering footsteps throwing them off balance.

Dismas shot at one leg while Viara threw daggers at the other, but the Miller was close enough to the graverobber to backhand her away from him. Perimede raced toward Viara, and the fiend lurched at her, striking her with a beam of blue light from his gaping mouth. The plague doctor stumbled backward, her mask doing little to hinder the dazzling light, leaving her stunned and exposed. Reynauld reached her in time to deflect the Millers' attack, though its hefty weight knocked them both over. Viara rose and threw a barrage of needles at their foe, drawing his attention and elegantly dodged swipe after swipe of the Miller’s scythe. Reynauld dashed along the perimeter until he aligned himself with the agile graverobber as she danced their enemy all along the battlefield. Reynauld whistled loudly once in position at her back and Viara adjusted her movements at the crusaders signal.

She allowed the Miller to close in on her and shattered a smoke bomb at their feet, leaping backward into the opaque cloud. With the Miller stalled, Reynauld leapt from the black smoke and lunged blade first, slicing passed his shoulder. The stoney apparition countered with a wide downward swipe, giving Reynauld enough time to defend himself, though the Miller’s height was a dangerous advantage. Their fierce deadlock quickly wore down the crusader and his knee buckled under the steady force.

Dismas shot their foe’s arm, giving Reynauld enough reprieve to shove the Miller off him. Viara distracted him further with a flurry of daggers, giving the crusader ample time to unleash an onslaught of attacks. They clashed and traded blows until the Miller let out an infernal howl that pierced their ears, the violently shaking ground threatening to knock them over. Large crystals erupted from the earth that immediately shattered, releasing petrified farmhands.

Perimede quickly converged on Viara, stopping her from running at their new enemies.

“Hurry” she said, uncorking a tiny vessel of glowing liquid. The plague doctor held it up to Viara and without protest or question she inhaled deep from the vapors snaking out from the open phial. Her every artery was instantly vivified, her blood flowing like raging rapids through her veins, synapses firing off like chain lightning. Perimede lifted her mask and followed suit, their senses whetted, and their minds focused. She provided cover fire with a barrage of stun bombs as Viara bounded for their new enemies, their last spade wound up and ready to strike.

Reynauld calculated each step, putting the farmhands between him and their master, using the Miller to thin his own herd, each unfortunate bastard breaking to pieces from the furious scythe attacks. Just as Reynauld ran out of farmhand shields and prepared to defend himself, Dismas leapt onto the Miller’s back and dug his dagger deep, trying with all his might to drag the blade downward. Their hulking enemy arched his back in pain and swatted behind him with his free hand, the nimble thief abandoning his weapon to avoid the attack. Reynauld slashed across at the Miller, missing his chest by inches, leaving himself open after the wide swing. The Miller’s scythe connected with the vulnerable crusader, tearing Reynauld’s shoulder pauldron clean off, knocking him feet away.

Before he could take another step, Dismas vaulted back onto the Miller and stomped on his protruding dagger, driving it deeper. The petrified farmer shot upright wailing in agony, wildly grabbing at his back. Dismas leapt off the flailing monstrosity, but the Miller spun around with freakish speed and caught the thief by his ankle. Hanging upside down and having not reloaded, Dismas threw his pistol in the Miller's face as the fiend bellowed at him.

“FUCK YOU!” Dismas hollered back. Sparks and smoke suddenly engulfed them from one of Perimede’s bombs but did little to help. The Miller blindly swung his scythe and Dismas heard the plague doctor cry out, followed by a flurry of cussing and daggers. Perimede struggled to stand, her back sliced open from rib to shoulder, but no less determined to stay in the fight.

“Dismas!” The plague doctor lobbed a glass orb at the thief and Dismas caught the small bomb, smashing it in the Miller’s face. The cursed titan hollered in pain at the sky and the two were engulfed in a pillar of light, healing them of all wounds.

As the burst of alien phosphorus slowly subsided, Dismas’ locket dropped from inside his vest and hung precariously from his neck, glinting in the light. The Miller froze, his hollow eyes locking onto the dangling necklace.

He brought the thief closer and now, even upside down, Dismas could clearly see his enemy’s own ornate locket lying on his sunken chest.

The infinitesimal moment lasted between them and Dismas floundered in the tortured man’s suffering, his mind overcome by the others’ past. He could see withering fields, soil turned to dust, sickness and plague sterilizing the land. The ancestor’s face appeared across his mind, feeling the Miller’s desperation and shame as he begged and pleaded for his family. Dismas saw visions of pyres burning bright and swells of the farmer’s grief for his wife and child blurred Dismas’ vision with tears, his chest shuddering with every breath.

The Miller dropped the thief, yowling to the heavens and clutching his chest. As he raged, green lighting began to tear at the ground all around them, and the party scattered in the chaos. Dismas’ tender ankle didn’t get him far and the Miller locked onto the highwayman. With one less pauldron, Reynauld rushed to press the Miller before he could reach Dismas, their weapons deadlocking instantly.

Just as it seemed Reynauld would be overpowered, the crusader roared, his eyes glowing gold, knocking the scythe out of the fiend’s grip. Undeterred, the Miller swung at the knight with his bare hand, sending him soaring. The malevolent farmer doused himself in another column of healing light and in the lapse of combat, summoned more henchmen to his aid.

Perimede continued in her attempt to aid from afar as a woozy Reynauld bandaged her lengthy wound, lobbing her remaining acid bombs haphazardly at them all.

“Dammit Peri!” Dismas shouted, a cluster of explosives hitting the group of incoming opponents, the many popping bombs sending viscous acid everywhere. The startled thief dropped his pistol avoiding the splashing and stumbled away from the melting farmhands madly flailing about.

Viara was emboldened at the sight of the scattered reinforcements and leapt into the throng, adrenaline surging through her, every strike precise, each injury debilitating or lethal. Once she shattered her spade, she robbed the nearest farmhand of its pickaxe and continued to swiftly dispose of them. Viara swung furiously and felled their enemies until only the Miller remained.

In an unnatural burst of speed, he crouched and stuck his scythe out low to the ground, successfully tripping the dexterous graverobber before she could put space between them. As she struggled to her feet, the Miller thrusted the butt of his scythe into her midsection, sending her flying backward. With his focus on Viara, Reynauld took the chance and lunged at the Miller, running him through. They all paused, breath bated, waiting to see if the attack finished off their enemy.

The Miller looked down at Reynauld and grabbed his sword by the hilt, his unnaturally large hand easily fitting over the crusader’s. Reynauld hollered in pain as the Miller squeezed the knight’s metal gauntlet, almost crushing his hand. With one powerful jerk, he snapped Reynauld’s sword in two while still in his abdomen and threw the crusader at Viara and Perimede.

“What sustains him?!” Reynauld growled as the three helped each other up. The knight winced trying to take up his broken sword, his hand throbbing with pain at the slightest movement. They turned to the sound of shattering earth to find the Miller swinging wildly at Dismas, the disarmed thief only able to dodge while the ghostly scythe tore up the ground.

Viara noticed the highwayman’s pistol was close and sprang into action, running for the weapon. She snatched it up without pausing in her sprint and called out to Dismas, chucking the pistol at him all in one swift motion. She reached the stone specter and swung her pickaxe at him, cracking a hunk of his thigh off. The Miller howled and swayed where he stood trying to remain on his feet, giving Dismas enough time to reload and Viara another chance to attack.

The graverobber swung at the Miller's other leg and their foe fell to his knees. As she prepared to strike again, he lurched forward and flashed Viara with a blinding blue light, sending her stunned and stumbling away. While the cursed husk struggled to stand Dismas got as close as possible, hoping to make the shot count. At pointblank range the highwayman held the gun up to the Miller’s face but the gleaming locket hanging from the stone specter’s neck stalled him. Dismas was overcome by heartache, the other man’s suffering clouding his mind and vision, the pistol shaking in his hand. In an instant, the cursed farmer’s arm shot outward and grabbed Dismas by the throat, the sudden movement throwing the gunshot off, only grazing the Miller’s cheek.

As the weakened revenant struggled with the wriggling thief, Viara flew to the pair with shocking velocity and planted herself beside the Miller. She twisted her body, legs forward and arms back, every muscle pulled to their limit, the momentary resistance multiplying the force behind her swing. Viara pierced his chest, shattering his locket to pieces and the ensuing pulse of force that erupted sent her soaring feet away.

Whatever semblance of breath was left in the Miller ebbed away and his grip around the highwayman’s throat relented. The two stared at each other and Dismas could see the poor man’s humanity return to him, face sunken, eyes bruised and bloodshot. His exhausted expression slowly melted to relief and peace blossomed in place of his grief, finally free to embrace death. The ethereal glow inside the dying farmer began to intensify, pulsating and burning bright before his petrified body exploded in a flash of green light and ether.

Dismas sat up and shook the spots from his eyes, dazed by the powerful shockwave, seeing his comrades equally stupefied but in one piece. The thief immediately found Reynauld, on bended knee, using his broken sword as a crutch, smiling at him.

“You’re safe” Reynauld sighed with relief, eyes fluttering and swaying where he knelt. Dismas bolted to him, catching the crusader’s head with his lap before it could hit the ground.

“Hey, hey, hey Rey stay with me” Dismas said, lightly slapping the knight on the face.

“I keep...breaking these” he said, holding up what was left of his sword before his arm fell limp. For a moment, prickling fear raced up Dismas' neck until he heard Reynauld breathing in the eerie silence. He took in the crusader’s serene face and laughed through his sob; unimaginably thankful they were alive.

“You two ok?” Viara shouted from afar, helping Perimede to her feet.

“Yea, he’s out but breathing” he replied.

Dismas looked around them and was dizzied by their surroundings, shocked to see they had been transported back by the road, the horses visible where Reynauld had hitched them.

Flickering light drew his gaze to the horizon and he could see the mill in the distance, glittering and shaking until the wretched structure, once haunted by the refracted suffering of the Miller, quickly crumbled out of sight.

Their relief when returning to the Hamlet at daybreak was short lived, many of the townspeople in shock and strangely some ecstatic to see them.

“M’lady m’lady! You’ve come back!” a small girl squealed, practically knocking Viara over, clinging to her thigh.

“Of course little one, how could I not come back knowing such greetings await me” Viara put on her best smile, patting the child on the head, awkwardly looking around at the small throng that began to gather in the town square. The graverobber’s teammates were just as confused, almost dizzied by the abnormal reception. A frantic Mr. Drew was suddenly on scene, rushing to the marchioness.

“Oh m’lady, thank the Light you’re safe. Are you injured? What do you need?” Mr. Drew asked. He was visibly shaken but joy shone through more, more than Dismas had ever seen from the usually elegant and poised Mr. Drew.

“I'm touched by the reception Mr. Drew, but it seems as though you had us boxed up and buried. We’re even back ahead of schedule, what’s going on?” Viara asked the valet, who leaned in close.

“M’lady, you and the party have been gone for five days” Mr. Drew said quietly to the group, the news hitting them like a tidal wave. Reynauld began to pace, Perimede sat on the ground to scribble madly on her notepad and Dismas threw up, accidentally helping to disperse the small crowd.

“Drew please, that’s absurd. We couldn't have been on the farmstead for more than twenty-four hours; it takes only half an hour to get there” Viara chuckled, trying not to go insane.

“It is true m’lady. His Grace the general has argued to send a search party these last two days; he’s preparing to leave this very morning” Mr. Drew explained. As ridiculous as it sounded, given where they had been, they couldn’t dismiss this distortion of time outright.

“It couldn’t possibly be the week…end…” Viara trailed off as the bells of the abbey tolled, signaling the end of morning mass. Viara put her hand over her mouth trying to contain her mad laughter, mind and body on the brink.

“Five days” she whispered through her trembling fingers, her eyes welling with tears. Mr. Drew took her gently by the shoulders and led her to the tavern. Unable to shake the collective fear that part of them still remained on the farmstead, they dispersed to their respective quarters without another word.

Chapter Text

The immediate hush became an incessant hum after the wild screeching and screaming that had ceased moments ago. The nightmarish scene dizzied Dismas, his eyes darting from one grizzly corpse to the next. Mutated beasts littered the trampled campground, and no one knew if it had been malign sorcery or mad science that had so miraculously fused these human-swine hybrids. The bodies of boar and pig were gruesomely transfigured, some limbs malformed and others engorged. He didn't know where to step, surrounded by enemy corpses and one mound of unidentifiable flesh that had been cursed with some semblance of life that he was glad Laika ripped apart first. Dismas could still hear the elementary speech between their squealing, echoing off the tunnel walls, the rage that fueled them a lingering and tenacious fear in him now.

The highwayman tried to quiet his mind against the bickering and scent of copper in the air stinging his nostrils.

“What the fuck are these things?! How does she not know about what’s in here?! In her own land!” Enica hollered, her hysteria persisting after the frenzied ambush. The hellion paced back and forth; her glaive clutched tightly in both hands as if waiting for another attack.

“Lass, how do you reckon Viara knew abo-” William tried to defend their absent comrade.

“OH SHE KNOWS! There’s always secrets with her” Enica growled through gritted teeth at William as if he himself was the graverobber in question.

“What reason would she have to send us to our deaths?” the houdmaster argued.

“Hey, maybe we should be a little quieter” Dismas said, the bickering pair not hearing a single word.

“Less mouths to feed and less wallets to fill!” Enica hollered, looking more deranged as her warpaint bled down her face and chest, affliction having taken hold.

“And then less bodies to fight! Then where is her money coming from?! Are ye hearin’ yerself?!” William barked, stepping up to Enica; the two inching closer to one another.

“You seem all too at ease in this hell, maybe you’re lying too, maybe you knew this whole time what’s down here” she snarled at the hound master, her eyes wild and bulging, practically foaming at the mouth.

“You’re irrational friend and I think you best have a rest” William said slowly, condescension in his tone.

“I’ll rest when I kill every wretched thing in this place that dared threaten me in the night!”

“I really think we should quiet down before-” Dismas feebly tried to interject, still reeling.

“Oh, yea? Everything?” William facetiously asked.

“EVERYTHING!” Enica shouted and pounded on her chest.

“ENOUGH!” Musar roared, throwing a large, decapitated head against the wall, the intense blood splatter all over them putting an end to the arguing.

“We’re leaving!” Musar grabbed the giant boar head, once belonging to their enemies’ juggernaut. Using the remaining bandages and a torn open pack, he wrapped up the head enough to sling it over his shoulder, its large tusks still protruding from the makeshift carrier.

“I’ll leave when and how I please assassin” Enica sneered at Musar and proceeded down one of the tunnels on either side of their campsite.

“Enica wait” Dismas tried to call out, his voice hoarse. The shadowy tunnel swallowed Enica after only a few steps and Dismas couldn’t bring himself to follow her into the abyss.

“Well, time to pack, a warm dinner awaits us…let's hope it’s not pork” William winked to Laika as he scratched behind her ear, her tail thumping at the mention of dinner.

“Musar, we can't just lea-” Dismas began.

“She’s hysterical. You saw her in the ambush blindly swinging her spear, almost killing us all” he argued.

“But-” Dismas tried again to speak on Enica’s behalf.

“Dismas if I didn’t get to you in time, she’d have taken your head off. She’s lost her mind and just walked off into this blasted pit alone, so yes, I'm leaving the liability behind” Musar said, collecting any supplies that weren’t completely destroyed in the fight.

“You can't mean tha-”

“Look around us!” he yelled at the unravelling thief, regretting his outburst seeing Dismas flinch.

“We’re in no shape chasing someone through this labyrinth and I won't risk your-” the bounty hunter cleared his throat. “Our lives looking for her. We are beaten, we have to leave” he tried to say calmer, but his eyes were mad and shaking, his helmet long abandoned. The bounty hunter scooped up another pack and headed out of the campsite, his slip of the tongue thickening the air around them. Dismas sighed, feeling Musar’s accidental sentiment like a jab to the chest. He was dizzied by the sudden stop after the frenzied ambush and even more so by the immediate decision to retreat without their friend. Dismas’ instincts took the wheel and head over heart, put one foot in front of the other behind Musar. He felt the pull of death only moments ago and knew better than to test the Reaper.

The march home was mostly silent, all for William’s gentle humming. Laika walked close to Dismas, her gentle licking and nuzzling at his hand a potent salve for his frayed nerves.

The highwayman assumed Musar would be bringing the lopped off head to Perimede or Alzalam for examination and quickly caught up to him as he approached the tavern.

“Musar, I think you're pretty stressed out maybe-” Dismas tried to stop him at the door before he kicked it open, the shock immediately silencing the patrons within.

“Where is she?” Musar grumbled at Bastien, the brawny bounty hunter and his leaking pack sending ripples of fear and confusion throughout the space.

“The war-room” Bastien glared at Musar, more offended by the bounty hunter’s tone than the mess he was making standing there. Musar made straight for the largest room at the back of the building just beyond the brothel suites.

He slammed the door open and strode inside, lobbing his gruesome cargo onto the large oaken table where Viara, Alzalam and Jinthura jumped up from. The makeshift pack fell open to reveal the severed head of the mutated human-boar hybrid.

“Muzarib! Shu hayda?!(Musar! What is this?!)” Alzalam stepped further from the table, indignant.

“’ana la ‘ukib ealayk! (I don't answer to you!)” Musar growled at the occultist in their tongue before turning to Viara.

“What the fuck is going on?” Viara asked, furious and disgusted.

“I don't get paid enough for this shit!” Musar slammed his fist on the table, his breathing deep and harsh now.

“To be frank my dear, I don't think any of us get paid enough for this” Viara rebutted.

“I warned you it wasn’t bandits!” he barked, trying not to yell.

“Can you please calm down and tell me what’s happened?” She asked.

“An ambush happened in the tunnels you said were empty!” he snapped, breathing mostly through his nose.

“Does anyone require healing?” Alzalam asked, focusing on Dismas who nodded no to the help. His skin was crawling, and he couldn’t focus, the stench of the warrens trapped in his nose, the musty sourness of ripened filth and shit. Now in proper lighting he could see it all over, the dried blood, smeared sewage and other mystery fluids caked on him.

“Or rest? You are more than welcome at the abbey should you need quiet solitude to soothe your mind” Jinthura calmly suggested.

“Save your prayers for Enica” Musar snarled at the vestal. Dismas winced at the mention of the hellion, guilt fluttering in his chest, leaving him breathless. The original occupants of the room exchanged worried glances.

“What has happened to Enica?” Jinthura asked the two men, one far less concerned than the other.

“I warned you about those tunnels!” Musar roared at Viara.

“And I warned you the journal entry about the tunnels was incomplete!” she roared back.

“Sadiq, anaha laysat easduuk(Friend, she is not your enemy)” Alzalam said softly to his kinsman.

“Sabni fi hali sahir(Leave me alone sorcerer)” Musar said to Alzalam, his eyes still locked onto Viara. “They think! They speak! They wielded magic against us Viara!” The bounty hunter continued to unravel.

“Do you mean there are cultists in the warrens?” Alzalam asked.

“THAT!” Musar pointed to the table. “Is what is in the warrens!” he said, his voice hoarse and his handsome features turned fearsome.

“Can you gather yourself for five minutes and tell us what THAT is?” Viara asked.

“What the fuck does it look like woman?!” Musar raved, veins throbbing at his neck and temples. Viara leaned to the side to address the highwayman behind the bounty hunter.

“Dismas, could you please explain what’s happened?” she asked. Before Dismas could answer, Musar swung his axe down on the table, cleaving the large snout of the severed head in two.

“I will not be sidestepped by some delusional and BROKE aristocrat!” Musar raged, shaking and slamming his fists on the table, ducking away from the wineglass Viara hurled at him.

“Don’t you EVER fucking speak to me that way!! Get out!!” Viara shouted.

“I am not one of your subjects!” Musar yelled, the two leaning toward each other from opposite sides of the table.

“More’s the pity! I could just lock you up were it the case” she hollered at him.

Bastien suddenly barged in, a large rifle in hand, broken glass crunching underfoot.

“M’lady?” He addressed Viara before he took aim at Musar.

“It’s fine” she raised her hand to stay the barkeep. “Could you please?” she motioned at the table’s gruesome center piece. Bastien nodded and promptly left the room.

“Did you know?!” Musar snarled, all but baring his teeth at her, his faculties fractured.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?!” Viara matched his volume.

“You have the papers about the tunnels, you told me so!” he barked.

“Yes, just like I told everyone it was only half of a report!” she yelled at the bounty hunter.

“Bullshit!” Musar shouted, irrational and afraid, his cheeks turning crimson as the fury rose from his throbbing neck.

“Musar, let’s jus-” Dismas said from behind him. Musar spun around and closed the distance between them.

“We almost die while she plays close to the chest like we’re all not in the same goddamn boat” his soft growl was somehow more threatening than his shouting.

“Come on, you know she’s been in the thick of it with us. She wouldn’t shaft us now” Dismas said quietly, leaning toward the bounty hunter. He placed a hand on his shoulder to squeeze, hoping the touch would ground Musar even just a little. Dismas could see frenzied fear in him, as if they were still in the twisted belly of the Warrens.

A sudden shrieking from the doorway drew everyone’s attention.

“Settle down girl, you’ve watched me butcher swine before” Bastien huffed at the maid that clung to his arm, unable to tear her eyes away from the bloody table. The barkeep laid a large muslin sheet down and heaved the grizzly head off the table, neatly wrapping it up and taking it away, the barmaid staying behind to clean up the residual blood.

The thief stepped closer to the fuming bounty hunter.

“We’re not in the tunnels anymore, we're safe” Dismas said softly, for only Musar to hear.

Musar was unexpectedly disarmed by the highwayman’s concern, his rage eclipsed by something else. He didn't turn to address anyone and quickly exited the war-room without another word. The marchioness took a deep breath and walked around the large table to Dismas, the thief recoiling as she tried to embrace him.

“Don't, I'm filthy” he chuckled through the lie. He was so close to the edge that any degree of sympathy or care would be too much, and he’d crumble.

“How can I help?” she asked, pained to see her friend so fragile.

“A drink?” He smiled weakly at her. Viara winked and led him to the nearest seat and went to fetch the crystal decanter opposite them.

“Here’s a fabulous vintage I stole from some chateau allegedly belonging to House Valois” Viara said, passing him a glass of wine that he emptied at once. The graverobber immediately refilled the glass and took a seat next to him.

“I don’t mean to push but…is everyone alive?” Viara asked. Dismas emptied his second glass and took a deep breath, the image of Enica disappearing into the inky blackness stark in his mind.

“Will and Laika are fine but Enica...I don’t know” shame cut his tongue. He trembled and every part of him begged for confession, anything to assuage his guilt for having left the warrens without Enica.

“How did this happen?” Viara asked, wounded watching him struggle. Dismas poured more wine and took a hefty swig, steeling himself against the impending recollection.

“It was quiet at first, only came across a few spiders and skellies to kill and that was it for a while. We felt like we mapped a decent amount of ground, so we stopped for a rest” Dismas sighed and continued.

“It was a couple hours after setting up camp and then they came...from every direction. There are chutes and secret passages all over, the whole place is a maze” he explained, trying to block out the mad squealing that threatened to drag him back into that tangible dark. “We got up in time to arm ourselves but once it all started, Enica went berserk. She killed most of them, but it could have been anyone of us the way she swung her spear” he said, short of breath recalling the chaos

“Were you separated during or after?” Alzalam asked carefully and drew the plush curtains of the tall windows. Jinthura approached the roaring fireplace and whispered inaudibly at the flames, their light dimming under the vestal’s golden gaze. The many candles softly illuminated the space with a comforting amber glow, the lush décor now cozier than before.

“It happened after. She couldn’t calm down, got mad at you for sending us and then argued with William when he defended you. Musar tried to gather us up, but she wouldn’t hear it, hissed at him… and then walked away” he shuddered at the words. “I tried to call out to her, but she just walked out of camp” his voice caught in his throat, the mental image choking him.

“And the others?” Viara asked.

“William didn't bat an eye and I tried to talk to Musar, but he’d made up his mind; Enica became a ‘liability’...so we left” Dismas said, staring down at his wine.

“Musar was presented with a heavy choice and did what was best for all of you” Alzalam offered an angle Dismas hadn’t considered while trying to quell his guilt.

“Strategically and morally so” Jinthura seconded.

“He wasn't himself after the ambush and I didn't know what to do, everything happened so fast, we were in such a rush I didn’t…I didn’t know how-” he struggled against the blur of frenzied memories, his heart racing and his chest tight.

“Don't do that, none of you would have made it out alive looking for her, she put you all in an impossible situation” Viara squeezed the highwayman's hand under the table.

“I know...I know” he nodded but guilt persisted. Months ago, he would have been indifferent, his criminal career having always been a solo enterprise, never needing or caring much for company. He knew these people now and together they’d borne witness to unimaginable horrors, felled beasts of unutterable hideousness side by side. Their individual pasts aside, they are in this chaos together now, all with the same desperate hope for redemption.

At his absolute limit, and no longer able to ignore his own stench, the highwayman gulped down the rest of his wine and stood from his chair.

“I think it’s time for a bath” Dismas said, mostly genuine but truth be told what he needed was a moment alone to either scream, throw up or cry, and knowing himself, it would most likely be all three in no particular order or frequency. Viara stood with him, at a loss as to what else to offer her friend other than his request.

“You know where to find me, love, I’ll have drink and herb ready just in case” she winked at him.

“Reynauld’s week of solitary fasting, and meditation is over, I can tell him of your arrival if you like?” Jinthura asked, her offer touching him deeply, though it would prove unnecessary.

“No need, sister, thank you” Reynauld said at the open door, having rushed over after finding William praying at the abbey and getting an account of the failed expedition.

“Rey” Dismas’ voice broke, and he threw himself at the crusader. Feeling his warmth and hearing his heartbeat, Dismas fell apart in Reynauld’s arms.

“We left her...I-I left her...in that place” Dismas whispered, shaking, grabbing at the knight’s shirt, silent tears carving streaks through the dirt on his cheeks.

“Come” Reynauld knew there was no need to ask anything of him now and led him away.

The three remaining occupants waited until the footsteps ebbed to silence.

“So, our fears have been confirmed” Alzalam said, taking a seat at the table once more.

“And at what cost?” Viara asked herself, flattened by the weight of her choices.

Reynauld led them to a part of the abbey grounds Dismas had never seen before to a small, detached building just beside the cloisters that was very obviously new.

“When did all this get here?” Dismas asked.

“When Jinthura arrived. She brought a substantial amount of her own coin and assets to share with Viara in restoring the hamlet, with terms of a good deal of it going into the abbey first. Technically this is for the sisters and brother Peter, but Jinthura has allowed me access given I am the only Brother of the Flame” Reynauld explained as he unlocked the door to the petite building.

The space within juxtaposed its colonial facade and opened to a serene Greco Roman bathhouse of white marble, far more spacious than it appeared. Columns lined the edge of a large central pool and two smaller rooms on either side, each with two large marble tubs. Delicate braziers hung amongst the columns; golden accoutrements glinted in the soft amber glow of the flames.

“You can rinse off here while I ready a tub” Reynauld said, leading Dismas to a back section beyond the main pool. He helped the highwayman undress and took away his garments, turning the golden handles of the rudimentary shower.

The heated water poured down like heavy rain and the resulting steam created a soothing humidity, helping the dirt and grime slide easily off his skin as he scrubbed. He stood under it for a moment, looking upward, letting the water crash against his face. Dismas relished in the warmth and noise of the thumping torrent against his ears drowning out everything. He rubbed his face, fighting off the image of Enica swallowed up by darkness and every horrid thing that could have befallen her. The smell of incense shooed away the memories and he cut the water off. Dismas quickly tiptoed on the cool marble to the adjacent room, nervously covering himself with a towel as if others were present.

He found Reynauld knelt at a large marble tub, pouring a creamy liquid into the water from a delicate glass bottle. The knight rose at his approach, only a towel wrapped around his waist, smoke snaking around the room from unseen censers.

“That must feel much better” Reynauld smiled wide at the thief, pressing him to his chest. Dismas melted into the embrace, the heated atmosphere slowing them both to a lower frequency.

Towels discarded, they got into the tub and Reynauld put himself behind Dismas to massage his shoulders. He squeezed firmly and the tension dispersed in hot waves over Dismas, every touch loosening tendon and muscle.

“Is there anywhere that particularly hurts?” Reynauld whispered into Dismas’ ear, the thief nodded no.

“It’s hard to imagine Peter in here. I only ever see him bruised and bloody and loving every minute” Dismas said, taking in the pearly white elegance of the bathhouse.

“He really does love it” Reynauld chuckled. “Most don't know that a flagellant's skin is cared for meticulously by sisters of the Light” he explained and Dismas pondered a moment.

“Makes sense if he wants to keep up with all those lashes during battle but I’m surprised the sisters do it, figured they wouldn't be keen on all the blood and open wounds.” Dismas said, still trying to picture Peter amongst the pristine marble.

“It is quite the contrary and in fact a great honor for a vestal. Only high-ranking sisters are tasked with tending to a flagellant after their passions and even then, she requires exemplary skill to perfectly restore the skin” the crusader said.

“Is that why Peter was so happy when Jinthura showed up?” Dismas asked, letting Reynauld lift his arms to scrub beneath.

“Very much so. The four vestals he had traveled with were not very fit for the task, which is why he couldn't be counted on for missions until now” Reynauld said, still moving along the highwayman's upper body with a soapy sponge.

“Well, he certainly shows out in battle now that he can come with us. I've never seen a man so happy to throw himself in harm's way” Dismas said over his shoulder, and they laughed at the truth of it.

“I guess it’s fair they get taken care of” the thief considered. Reynauld leaned closer and peppered Dismas’ shoulder with slow deliberate kisses.

“Just as my blessings are amplified by my kindling” he paused to nibble as Dismas’ ear. “A flagellant can only perform their miracles at peak physical condition. Jinthura personally tends to all his wounds after campaigns. She helps him meditate and focus, I’ve never known a flagellant to sleep so sound”

“Do they not usually sleep well?” Dismas asked, genuinely curious, eyes closed as Reynauld’s hands continued their work.

“To be brief, their zeal is their blessing and without proper guidance, a flagellant can quite literally go mad, their devotion becoming obsession. It is often seen as a curse to be chosen by the Light to be a Vessel” he answered, turning the thief around and guiding him to one side of the tub. He shifted to the other end and took up Dismas’ foot, pressing it against his chest. Dismas’ mind went blank as Reynauld’s thumb dug into the arch of his foot, the pressure sending tingles up and down his body.

“That’s-” Dismas winced from the waxing mixture of pain and pleasure radiating from his foot and gradually melted under the pressure of the knight’s hand. “That’s kind of sad” he said, his head hanging over the edge of the tub, the rest of him just as limp from Reynauld’s steady kneading.

“They are happy to give themselves and the vestals are dedicated to their care. As the verses say ‘None are held closer to the Light’s bosom than the bleeding babes of the Vessel’” the crusader quoted proudly.

“It’s good to have friends” Dismas practically slurred, drunk from the heat and touching.

“I am thankful you came back so uninjured” Reynauld squeezed up and down Dismas’ calf as he spoke.

“Almost came back headless if it weren’t for Musar though, thank the Light for him” Dismas mindlessly mumbled.

“Thank the Light for him indeed” Reynauld said, carrying on with his massage. Dismas froze, finally hearing his mention of the bounty hunter whilst naked in a bathtub.

“No need for that” Reynauld smiled, feeling Dismas tense up. “I am genuinely thankful for him. Whether he would have saved anyone else or did it specifically for you, you ended up protected, which I am very thankful for. Besides...” Reynauld smirked devilishly and pulled Dismas toward him by the ankles, bringing a tidal wave of bathwater with him. He scooped up the thief by the thighs and sat him in his lap. Dismas wrapped his legs around Reynauld’s waist beneath the water of the vast tub and rested his arms on the crusader's broad shoulders.

“I trust you” Reynauld said softly, holding Dismas by the bottom, a cheek in each hand.

“Thank you” Dismas whispered, pressing his face into the nook of the knight’s shoulder.

“How strange, is that your pistol I suddenly feel pressed against me?” Reynauld coyly asked and the highwayman threw his head cackling.

“Funny, I was just going to ask if that’s your giant sword you just wedged between my ass cheeks” Dismas barely finished before their laughter echoed off the marble walls.

In one swift motion Reynauld laid the highwayman against the sloped end of the tub, placing himself between Dismas’ legs. He peppered Dismas’ neck with kisses as one arm snaked around his lithe waist, the crusader spurred on by the highwayman’s restless moans. Dismas clawed at Reynauld’s back and brought his knees up further, intoxicated by the heat the crusader naturally radiates when passionate. He reached down into the water and guided Reynauld closer, and the knight, invigorated by his lover’s acquiescence, slowly pushed into him.

Each motion inched up Dismas’ spine like magma, the lazy heat creating a frenzied anticipation, yearning for and terrified of the rising, all-consuming pressure. Reynauld’s steady pace cascaded on itself, the rhythmic force building up, taking the thief’s breath away. The knight unraveled him, and Dismas drowned in every sensation, suspended between too much and not enough. It was never enough.

The warrens crept in amongst the heady breathing and sloshing bath water, and Dismas wasn’t overcome with fear but rather, relief. He was safe, safe in the arms of a man that vowed to protect him with every breath in his body, and the warrens evaporated away amongst the smoke. Slowly and steadily, Reynauld worked out of him every moment of fear and every iota of despair, replacing it with delicate gasps and bashful moaning.

The crusader remained steadfast as every muscle burned, his lover’s pleasure his sole concern, his mind fixed on the long-catalogued movements and angles he knew drove Dismas mad. Over and over the highwayman was brought to the precipice of ecstasy and over and over Reynauld induced one sweet little death after another until Dismas’ legs shook.

Dismas woke up slowly and sprawled out, taking advantage of the knight’s absence. Finally having commissioned a bed that could fit and support the two of them, this was the first time spending the night in Reynauld’s room at the abbey’s cloisters. To soothe him, Reynauld explained how large the cloisters are and with only seven vestals, including Jinthura, Reynauld was the only person occupying a room on the entire men’s corridor, the prior having his own quarters in the abbey’s main building and Peter preferring his simple cot in the penance hall. He smiled foolishly as he stretched and pressed the pillows against his face, inhaling deep of Reynauld’s lingering scent. He purred remembering the bathhouse and rolled around in the bedding, wadding up the plush sheets between his legs. The small window suddenly let in morning’s chill and Dismas crawled across the vast bed for the closest shirt to put on.

He sat up and unfurled the black fabric and smiled seeing the giant garment was Reynauld’s. He contemplated putting it on or adding this one to the other two he’d already ‘borrowed’ from the crusader. When he drunkenly admitted they’re meant for when Reynauld went on an expedition without him, the knight almost took him then and there in the tavern. A sudden knock on the door made the choice for him and he scrambled to put the shirt on.

“Brother? Brother Reynauld, may I come in?” a husky voice whispered through the door. Dismas panicked and acted without thinking.

“Uh…no” he said trying to deepen his voice to Reynauld’s low octave, cringing and cursing under his breath.

“I beg you brother, let me in please” the desperate man hastily spoke.

“Peter?” Dismas asked, recognizing the flagellant's voice.

“Dismas?” Peter responded as he opened the door. As per usual the vessel was bleeding from multiple semi stitched wounds on his bare chest and arms. Dismas was shocked but not surprised to find him wearing a smaller collar than usual and wearing only his undergarments. He smiled wide at the thief and Dismas couldn’t help but smile back seeing Peter so jovial, his three missing teeth giving his chiseled features a childlike aspect.

“Eeeeeeyyyy you dog! In the cloisters!” Peter laughed and poked at Dismas. He blushed fighting Peter off, remembering how last night Reynauld laughed at the thief’s mention of propriety as he brought him to the cloisters. Before either could speak, voices echoed from down the hall.

“Holy vessel?”

“Brother Peter?”

They heard two delicate voices call out after soft knocks on the other doors down the dormitory hall.

“The vestals” Peter rasped, crouching as if being shot at and dove at the door, delicately locking it shut.

“What the hell is going on?” Dismas whispered harshly when Peter held a finger up to his lips as footsteps approached.

“Brother Reynauld?” the vestal asked, her voice gentle and apologetic.

They froze.

“Blessed brother?” the other spoke with the same anxious deference.

The two men held their breath until the two nuns thankfully accepted the silence and left to continue their search of the flagellant.

“I can explain” Peter held his hands up in surrender. Suddenly new, heavier footfalls could be heard approaching and Peter flattened himself against the wall by the door. Dismas stood up and sighed, a mixture of relief and concern seeing Reynauld enter the room. He smiled impishly seeing Dismas swimming in his shirt and lobbed the fresh bundle of clothing for the thief onto the bed, kicking the door closed behind him.

Reynauld wrapped his arms around Dismas and nibbled on the rogue’s neck as Peter tried to sneak out of the room behind them.

“Good morning, Peter” Reynauld said, turning slowly to face the flagellant who froze mid step.

“I can explain” Peter succeeded once more, hands up.

“Jinthura is looking for you” Reynauld said, holding back laughter, seeing Peter turn white.

“She wasn’t supposed to perform the rejuvenescence today” the flagellant groaned.

“You are set for the cove Peter, you need to be in prime condition, of course she’s going to perform the rites herself” Reynauld patted the frantic man on the shoulder. “Why did you run from the vestals anyway?”

“I just wanted to enjoy these a little longer” he pouted and tugged at two half stitched gashes on his chest. Reynauld swatted Peter’s hands away from the wounds he now fully opened.

“Tsk…Peter, what are the first steps of your devotion?” Reynauld crossed his arms and stood at full height before the flagellant.

“First the sacred wound, and then the holy seam” Peter rolled his eyes and mumbled.

“You have to let her-“ Reynauld tried to say.

In a thundering crash, the door slammed open and the towering Vestalis Maxima stepped into the room. She filled the space with rushing winds and a brilliant radiance that betrayed the fury contorting her face.

“DEFIANCE” Jinthura growled with a thousand voices, glowing golden eyes looking down at the already kneeling flagellant.

“Sister Maxima, she who walks in ACK- “Peter tried to grovel, but the fearsome vestal bent down and in one swift motion snatched him by his collar and flung him off his feet, out of the room. Jinthura rushed out after him, the gale behind her slamming the door shut.

“Well good morning” Dismas said the crusader, glad they were alone again.

“How are you feeling?” Reynauld asked, holding his arms open for the thief.

“I feel great actually” Dismas leaned into the crusader. “Everything happened so fast yesterday, I don’t think it had enough time to get to me if that makes sense” Dismas said, and although he hadn’t forgotten about Enica, the warrens expedition was a faint echo now.

“Then I am glad” Reynauld pinched the thief’s chin and brought their lips together.

“So, the Cove hu? Who else is going besides Peter?” Dismas asked, turning to rummage through his fresh clothing.

“Just Bigby and I” Reynauld said, reclining in his chair, affectionately watching the highwayman dress. Dismas hoped his small pause at the name wasn’t noticeable. He had nothing against Bigby, on the contrary he felt for him, tortured and abused over something he didn't ask for. His terrifying transformation aside, he is a kind soft-spoken man and just like any of them, has ended up here in the hopes of finding peace even at the risk of his own life.

Bigby had not been with the hamlet long and thanks to the combined efforts of Alzalam and Jinthura, they helped him regain control of himself. It was a random excursion into the ruins that they happened upon him, fighting off cultist with only the very chains they bound him with…but not for long. Just before the team could help him, Bigby transformed into a vicious beast, easily massacring his captors until turning on his would-be saviors. After some slightly violent acquiescence and the subsequent week of observation, and one nighttime escape into the Hamlet thwarted, they managed to calm and communicate with the tortured man.

“Wait, why just three of you?” Dismas was surprised at such a small party.

“Viara and Obi went to the ruins this morning with Jinthura’s two other vestals. Borte is helping Perimede in the lab while her shoulder heals, who for an antiquarian has a surprising amount of medical knowledge” Reynauld sat up, trying to grab at the thief.

“Obviously I’m coming, you can’t be a whole man down” Dismas said, hopping away from Reynauld’s five hands while still trying to pull on his boot.

“That’s ridiculous, you’ve only just escaped disaster” Reynauld argued.

“I told you I'm fine. It was a horrible time of course but the only thing that’s stuck with me is losing Enica” he paused and took a deep breath, her memory lurking in a corner of the room. The crusader caught Dismas and pulled him close, standing the highwayman between his legs.

“You lost no one. She made her decision and frankly, I wouldn't be surprised if her numbing rage carries her to safety, hopefully back here or at least somewhere outside the warrens” he said softly, burying his face in the thief’s belly.

“Aaaaany way, I’m coming with you” Dismas pinched Reyanuld’s mouth closed before he could contest. “How could I live with myself if anything happened to you on an undermanned mission while I'm sat here on my ass feeling just fine?” He tried to convince the crusader.

“Truly?” Reynauld asked looking up at his kindling, brow furrowed, caressing Dismas’ hips.

“Truly” Dismas answered. “Now, when are we scheduled to leave?” he asked, sitting on Reynaulds knee to put on his other boot.

“Tonight. Alzalam says the waning moon will pull the tides away from the caves, allowing us greater access” Reynauld answered.

“And what the hell are we going for?” Dismas finally considered the why.

“The night you left for the warrens there was a sudden and powerful storm that caused part of the cliffside to give way and took a chunk of the ancestor’s west wing with it, which Viara was slowly emptying of its many tomes, and other occult items. She believes there was valuable knowledge there and knows the fish-folk of the cove have taken much of it from the rocks below already” Reynauld explained, holding Dismas steady as he fastened his boots final buckle.

“How does she know they took the goods?” the highwayman asked, standing up to fetch his belt.

“She watched it from the cliff above that very night. The typhoon retreated just as quickly as it stormed us and she says she saw the whole collapse” Reynauld said, grasping the thief from behind.

“Are you certain about tonight?” Reynauld whispered, his lingering mouth grazing Dismas’ ear. Dismas laughed, finally pushing the crusader and his tickling beard off.

“Stop it you ninny, I’m perfectly capable of joining you, and I mean...after such care last night, how could I not feel great” Dismas bit his lip and looked the crusader up and down.

“Don’t be vulgar” Reynauld said, his foolish smile creasing his blushing cheeks. Dismas raised his eyebrows in mock surprise and pointed at himself, silently mouthing ‘Me’, his face incredulous.

“Breakfast?” the crusader offered through his chuckle.

“Breakfast” the highwayman affirmed. They each groaned through a final stretch and left for the tavern.

The Cove mission began and continued, thankfully, uneventful for some time, so the team decided to make camp lest they tempt fate.

The crusader parked himself at the edge of camp to keep watch, his inaudible murmuring of the verses put Peter at ease but Dismas less so. The highwayman chased sleep, his mind disobeying his exhausted body’s baying for rest. Thankfully the enemies were quite sparse, but their search had become lengthier than planned, to say nothing of the Cove’s icy interior.

It was colder than Dismas remembered, the temperature invasive and the air piercing, inoculating them with its frigid chill. Though camped away from any pools, he could hear faint dripping and the suggestion of flowing water but…below them? Much to his chagrin, no matter how he laid his head, the muffled flow of a stream or waterfall tugged at his ear.

In his restlessness he took a moment to observe his surroundings. In the delicate light of the dozing campfire, the walls glinted and glittered with various minerals, the general moisture allowing jagged spears of rock to grow gigantic from floor and ceiling alike. But some pillars they had seen were not products of nature but carved by ancient hands and soon, deep into the Cove, they had traversed frightening cyclopean ruins.

Even the ancestor in his journals confirmed the caves predate the Hamlet by centuries, giving the preternatural masonry a terrifyingly alien aspect, igniting primordial fears in them. Dismas saw familiar depictions of pelagic beings on the stone like he had seen in the blighted town of Insmouth, those gilded icons and bas-reliefs of dogmatic rituals. Seeing them here, especially in abundance, gave credence to the ancestor’s journals, something they collectively took with a grain of salt. The fish folk are organized and strong, their old magics from the Deep Ones not to be trifled with.

Finally, beyond the point of total exhaustion, a second wind sat him up and his first thought was the crusader. He turned and found him standing guard, eyes set forward down the inky black tunnel. Not wanting to bother the knight while he stands watch, and too delirious to be of any help, he crept quietly passed Peter, quickly lighting his rolled herb with the campfire before he went. He knew Bigby wasn’t asleep, never truly able to rest during missions, preferring meditation rather than risk a loss of control due to fatigue. Dismas approached slowly, making sure to gently clear his throat as to not startle the focused man. Bigby opened his eyes and turned to Dismas, smiling at the thief.

“Mind some company?” Dismas asked, pausing before sitting.

“Not at all” Bigby said, touched by the consideration, so seldom treated with common courtesy. Dismas groaned as he took a seat on the damp ground, exhaling deeply of his pungent herb. Suddenly noticing a strange difference in lighting, he looked up and quickly understood why Bigby chose such a seat for contemplation; the ceiling of the small alcove glittered like space, covered with delicate algae and other tiny bioluminescent organisms. He was entranced, the tiny sea of neon green stars dimming here and there in their incandescence on the shiny slick rock, like stars in the upper cosmos.

“Strange, isn't it? Such pretty things, in their own world, untouched, unbothered...left to live” Bigby said, joining Dismas in his reverence of the makeshift heavens twinkling overhead.

“I wonder what they are” Dismas asked squinting, trying to distinguish if the tiny things were moving.

“No idea but I took a few samples for Perimede” he smirked, showing Dismas a glass phial filled with the glowing creatures. The highwayman couldn't help but chuckle, remembering how fascinated Perimede was with Bigby when he first arrived.

“I'm surprised she hasn’t pounced on you with a syringe” Dismas only half jested, also remembering how the plague doctor begged Bigby to transform and give her a sample of his toxic blood. Bigby took it in stride, flattered that someone had such an interest in him that didn't involve dissection or torture.

“Once you get passed her social.... quirks” they shared a knowing smile. “You see her intentions are good. If she does have any mean bones, I'm not sure she knows it” Bigby said fondly.

“I bet she took’em out herself” Dismas cracked and the two leaned into each other, trying to muffle their laughter as they affectionately mocked the plague doctor.

“How’s that comin’ along?” Dismas asked carefully, his keen eyes catching a piece of parchment peeking out of his simple cloak. Bigby chuckled, only semi embarrassed since it was Dismas asking.

“So far so good, writing is coming easier than reading” he said, producing the paper, showing the thief repeated letters in rows covering the entire page. He was glad to see as he went through the few pages, the writing had become steadier, Bigby's hand more confident in the repetition. Dismas found it bizarre he was teaching anybody anything, let alone anything scholastic, but he understood this specific plight firsthand and how most take literacy for granted.

“Well done” Dismas winked and nudged Bigby with his elbow, offering the burning herb. Bigby nodded no, deciding it best to keep away from alcohol and other inebriates until he can control his abilities better.

“Still a ways to go” Bigby said, his positive tone betraying his downcast expression.

“Bah, this is for you and no one else. Go at your own pace and anyone who’s got anything to say can get fucked, specifically by the high horse they rode in on” Dismas said, glad to see Bigby smile, knowing how heavy such misplaced shame can be, shame borne by the cruelty and judgment of others.

“Thank you. I do feel like I-” Bigby suddenly stopped as a fell howling wind rushed past them, filling them both with dread. Bigby took a moment to breathe, the abrupt gale having stirred his eldritch blood, and Dismas was left no less unsettled. The sliver of Black Beast inside him roused, searching for the shifted ether, sending shivers up and down Dismas’ spine.

“Well, shit” Dismas said as the pair looked around, anxiously expecting something else to happen...rightfully so.

“The shadows speak!” Dismas and Bigby jumped hearing Peter scream and rushed out of the alcove back to camp.

“Peter what is it?” Reynauld had raced to the trembling man, immediately reaching for his wrist. Peter had lodged his spiked shackle into his own chest.

“The air stirs with purpose, malign intent seeks…seeks release” Peter shook, manic and energized. Dismas and Bigby looked to each other, now certain what they had felt was malign indeed.

“What have you seen?” Reynauld asked.

“Only shades…elder magics here shun the Light. The children of the Deep Ones…they” his voice trembled, and they could feel Peter practically vibrating.

“Steady Peter” Reynauld said quietly, slowly pulling the flagellant’s spiked shackle from his bleeding chest.

“They churn the water, and they speak to it, they use ancient words, and the water answers them” Peter tried to speak calmly, still shaking. Reynauld stood and took a moment to consider.

“Let us not remain stationary, we still have ground to cover. I shall tend to Peter’s wound, if you two could begin to pack up camp?” Reynauld asked of the pair who needed no other prompting.

Not long after leaving the camp, the path began to narrow and incline as they continued.

“Wait” Bigby whispered loudly, stopping everyone in their tracks. He sniffed at the air, moving his head this way and that.

“Incense” he said, looking to his mates who nodded in agreement, they too sniffing the air. Reynauld motioned them to stay put as he handed off the torch and continued on ahead alone only to return a moment later. He took the torch from Dismas and drowned it in a small nearby puddle.

“Hey, that was a fresh torch” Dismas furrowed his brow in confusion.

“Look” Reynauld pointed up the way and now in the dark they could see a faint turquoise light emanating. “The path ends up ahead, I didn’t get to the edge but there is something or someone below making that light” Reynauld whispered close.

They crept stealthily in the dark up to the end of the tunnel and looked down on a massive domed cavern with a giant pool of glowing turquoise water on the edge closest to them. Along the border of the pool, the huge, ruined bow and jack staff of a ship protruded from the incandescent waters, its name The Hetty still visible. They couldn’t take their eyes off of the haunting ship, practically hypnotized by the glowing green whisps that slowly swam through the air around the wreck, weaving through the many chains wrapped around it.

The general area was cleared of most stalagmites, the cavern itself littered with smaller pools of black water, the curved walls showcasing a hive-like motif with several openings to other tunnels scattered all over. Stunned by the staggering size of the space, they almost didn’t notice the three forms on the edge of the giant pool. They were fish folk, green and scaled, sagging skin hanging from their hunched torsos. Strange crowns adorned their abnormally large heads, their gaping mouths and bulging eyes just as hideously proportioned. They held up crude staves, swaying where they stood, gurgling in an abhorrent language to fuel their ritual.

Just as the chanting reached a pitch, one of the pelagic mages collapsed. Much to their surprise, the remaining chanters stopped and pushed the lifeless body into the pool harboring the shipwreck and scurried out of the giant cavern.

Dismas peeked his head out further over the edge and scanned the area below, spotting their goal.

“Down there, look, that’s all of the ancestor’s weird shit” Dismas pointed to a raised slab with neatly piled books, scrolls and scattered curio. “We should get down there before anyone or thing comes back” he said, surveying the precarious incline of the wall directly below them. Dismas took off his glove and ran a finger across the stones.

“Damn, the wall is as slick as a drunken virgin, no way we can scale it” Dismas whispered, wiping his hand on his coat. They took a moment to consider until it hit Bigby.

“I…can probably scale it” he offered timidly, and after a tick they understood. “I just don’t know what to look for once I’m down there...” Bigby trailed off and shifted his weight, embarrassed.

“I’m sure as that big red guy you’d be able to bring me down with you, no? Viara told me about what to look for” Dismas quickly shifted gears, saving Bigby from having to explain himself.

“That I can do” the kind man smiled, glad that his other form could help beyond terror and violence.

Bigby went around the bend behind them and focused his breathing, remembering the rhythm Jinthura taught him to keep control of himself. Slowly, but no less gruesome, Bigby transformed, trying to remain present and muffle the growls of pain that often accompanied his cursed metamorphosis. He began to grow exponentially and his skin turned crimson, the scar on his head disappearing as his skull took new shape, growing saber like horns. His blood burned and turned into a noxious acid in his veins, now throbbing and glowing. One arm became huge, monstrous and inhuman, his hands and feet now viciously armed with lethal claws.

They braced themselves hearing the struggle, his ability to remain present after transformation gained relatively recently. After a moment of silence, Bigby stepped into the dim light by the tunnel's edge. He recognized his teammates and shuddered, his skin crawling, unaccustomed to changing with no enemies present. They each paused, unsure how to proceed.

“Sooo...I'll just...hop on I guess?” Dismas nervously asked, having no idea about the etiquette of such a thing. Without warning, Bigby grabbed the slim highwayman by the waist with his one, still relatively average sized arm and with his other, terrifying monster arm, gripped the rocky ground like a sponge.

“Wait how will you- “Reynauld failed to stop them, all but imploding watching the speed with which they hopped over the edge to ascend the slimy wall, Bigby’s claws leaving tracks all the way down. Once at the bottom the abomination dropped Dismas and the two fell to the ground as Bigby willed himself back into human form.

“You ok?” Dismas asked, quickly standing and holding his hand out to help his friend, trying to ignore the glowing shipwreck bobbing eerily in the large pool behind him.

“Yea, I just need a minute, was a bit tough to put him away so soon after letting him out” Bigby said, sitting against a large broken pillar, taking steady breaths, in through the nose, out through the mouth.

“Ok, you do that and stay outta sight, I'm gonna go steal our stuff back” Dismas whispered and crept toward the stone table with the ancestor's belongings. He looked up and gave Reynauld and Peter a thumbs up, until a terrifying epiphany crashed over him, and his stomach bottomed out.

How are we getting back up?

Before his mind could spiral, he put the question aside and continued to the stone slab. Dismas quickly rummaged through the loose scrolls first, scanning for keywords as to not over encumber themselves with useless things. He packed shipping logs and anything that pertained to the Cove and the ancestor’s dealing with the fish folk.

“Dismas…how are we-” Bigby asked, looking up to where they had just come, not truly aware of the precarious declivity before them until now.

“Just pack these up and we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Shit, I wish it was a bridge we have to cross” Dismas spoke mostly to himself. Thankfully fear spurred him on rather than cripple him and he handed Bigby a separate pack for the various curios and other arcane objects.

“Start with what looks the oldest I guess” Dismas shrugged and continued his hasty searching amongst the books and papers. Several journals made the cut and given their general size and weight Dismas decided to take all the scrolls, loose paper, and letters.

A particular piece caught his eye and when he saw the names Captain Obed Marsh and The Hetty, Dismas spun around to confirm what he had seen moments ago from above. The moored ship’s name is The Hetty, one of three ships belonging to the late Captain Marsh of Insmouth. Dismas had spent several nights with Viara pouring over papers and books of her uncle’s dealing with Insmouth and its cult, it was the only reason they made that fruitless trip to Insmouth months ago. He skimmed the pages and found more pieces to the horrifying puzzle, now certain that Obed Marsh was the founder of the Cult of Dagon, adding to the growing number of questions regarding the dealings between the late captain and marquis.

The tiny fragment of the Black Beast in him stirred and whispered at least one answer. Dismas looked to the ground all around the shipwreck, seeing carefully carved symbols and various sigils and arcane array. It fired off synapses and everything clicked, the symbols became familiar, and Dismas recalled the Necromancer in the ruins and the carved monoliths of the Farmstead.

“Fuck” Dismas cussed under his breath, meeting the gaze of a rickety skeleton, hanging limp off the side of the ship, sockets filled with haunting blue green light.

The ritual is meant for summoning.

Chapter Text

Dismas turned away from the twitching skeleton, its impending resurrection adding a new level of panic he tried desperately to channel into haste. Before he could continue packing, Bigby grabbed him by the arm, a hand over his mouth, and pulled them back behind the broken pillar. Dismas quickly understood, hearing sloshing waters and the pattering of wet footsteps. They peeked around the pillar and their eyes widened with horror as two wobbly pelagic mages approached, flanked by monsters they could never have imagined. Floating miraculously beside them were two aquatic hybrid creatures that at first would appear to be giant jellyfish but surrounding their one large central hanging arm were the tentacles of a squid, a true perversion of nature. They watched tiny arches of electricity jump between the curved hooks of their tentacles, their slimy translucent bodies bobbed unbelievably in the open air, mocking their own thalassic nature.

Close behind them were two large forms that both frightened and disgusted Dismas and Bigby. Bound and gagged were two dramatically bloated humans, grey skinned, as if left to rot in the sun and sea. Dismas and Bigby switched sides for a better view of the hideous group as they stepped to the edge of the shipwreck’s giant pool.

The mages took their places and started their wretched chants once more, while the symbols on the ground radiated an eerie green phosphorescence. While more orbs of light began to soar around the wreckage, Dismas and Bigby looked to one another, overcome by helplessness. Their immediate thought was to stop such malign proceedings, but they would then be dangerously outnumbered, with no way for the rest of their team to join them. A vicious wind swirled around the ship and the waters it sat in undulated, disturbed by the chanter's cries.

The alien jellyfish suddenly dug their vicious hooks into the drowned thralls and without warning, electricity jolted outward from their tentacles. They were terror-stricken, unable to turn away as the living corpses violently twitched and inflated further from the steady surge of electric energy. For a moment time stopped, and visceral instincts told them to move away but paralyzed by their terror and awe, they watched the two swollen corpses explode with an almost comical pop. Entrails and rotted bones crashed against the shipwreck, and scattered all over, some even at the heroes' feet. Dismas bent over trying to muffle his dry heaving at the smell of charred rotten flesh.

The pool’s enchanted water began to violently thrash and the ship itself creaked as it fought against the binds woven throughout its many planks. Soon the chains began to break and Dismas knew he couldn't let whatever they were trying to free from the void enter this realm. In a flash of insight, he started to hastily search through the pack he’d brought down with them.

“Thank the Light I put them in here” he said, clutching a glass bottle to his chest. He quickly pulled flint stones from his coat and ignited the soaked cloth connected to the bottle with his first strike.

“Didn’t Perimede warn us not to be too close to water when using these?” Bigby asked and leaned away from the unnatural heat of the burning fabric.

“Listen, she’ll tell you herself that half the time she’s just guessin. We can’t let them finish whatever this is” Dismas said, wishing Perimede were there.

“I guess so” Bigby nervously agreed, not having any alternative to offer.

“Light the next one and let’s see what Perimede’s Greek Fire can do” he said, took a deep breath and flung the flaming glass bottle at the glowing shipwreck.

The bottle shattered and the black liquid within immediately ignited. Flames erupted in all directions and quickly blanketed one side of the ship, and the water below it. The chanters started to shriek and used their magic to send waves at the burning ship but only spread Perimede’s flaming concoction, the chemical clung to any water. The witches’ churning unknowingly sent a wall of fire at Dismas and Bigby, forcing them to leap out from behind their hunk of pillar much to the surprise of the pelagic mages. In their gurgling language, they pointed at the duo and the jellyfish floated toward them. Dismas threw another bottle at the ground just beneath one of the beasts and hungry flames blossomed everywhere. The splash of liquid flames coated the ends of its tentacles, and the burning creature spread the firewater as it thrashed its slimy appendages.

“Fuuuuck” Dismas groaned at the growing chaos and regretted not heeding the plague doctor’s warning.

Dismas shot at the second floating monster, but the bullet merely stunned it a moment and disappeared into its giant bell. Bigby whipped his chain at the incoming shamans, catching one at the ankle, and tripped them into the ghost ship’s violently roiling waters. Skeletal arms erupted from the pool and pulled the struggling witch beneath the surface. The second mage held her position out of Bigby’s range to spit out a vile curse and hurled the manifested terror at them.

Dismas stepped in front of his teammate and the malediction struck him like a gust of foul wind. It infiltrated his being, rushed up his chest and sent his mind into unimaginable depths of dread. He was suddenly breathless, his lungs like ice, believing he was being pulled down beneath the surface of imagined water. Dismas gasped for breath and dropped to his knees, terrified of the rising water he knew wasn’t real. Before it reached his lips, his body shivered and shook, his own gasp freeing him of his terrible visions.

Bigby stepped toward the pool and dipped the end of his chain in Perimede’s Greek Fire, coating the tip with burning oil. He brandished the flaming chain at the thalassic witch just as she summoned more nightmares with her hateful magics. Bigby quickly turned his body and let the dark ether crash against his shoulder, easily unfazed by the evil malediction. He wound up for another strike, but the remaining jellyfish fiend was upon him. It lashed out with its tentacles trying to hook into Bigby’s arm but left only gashes as he leapt away. He put more distance between them and used the length of the chain to keep the monstrosity at bay. With enough time to have reloaded Dismas shot the last pelagic shamaness in the chest, bringing her to her knees. She cried out, and the shrill sound momentarily disoriented him, though the call’s true purpose would prove more troublesome.

Suddenly a pair of bizarre marine devils climbed out of a smaller pool of water. Once at full height, Dismas bore witness to a hideous humanoid-fish hybrid from waist up but with several long thick tentacles for legs. The monstrosities paused, seeing the raging fire on the shipwreck but more surprised that it clung to the water itself. One rushed to aid the jellyfish fighting Bigby, while the second towering guardian used its powers and dowsed the witch in a protective blue light.

Dismas wasted no time and utilized the lull in combat to ready his pistol and took aim. The bullet meant for the witch’s forehead suddenly clanged off the pelagic guardian's armor feet away, its arcane ward taking the hit instead. The towering beast made for the thief as the witch readied her hexes.

Not sure he could handle any more malicious visions, Dismas had to stop the shamaness first. Quick on his feet, the highwayman grabbed a hunk of stone and heaved it at the pool of burning water near the focused mage. It sent blazing liquid all over her, the guard’s eldritch barrier useless against the burning chemical. She flailed wildly and fell into the large pool, another sacrifice for the haunted shipwreck. The towering guard slithered with unnatural speed toward Dismas, and he crouched at the ready.

Miscalculating his assailant's size, Dismas leapt out of the way instead of trying to counter the downward slice of the savage crescent blade. As he readied for another attack, Bigby’s flaming chain suddenly flicked the side of the guardian’s head. Dismas reloaded, rushed his stunned foe, and hoisted himself onto its armor. Now eyelevel with the pelagic guardian, he pressed his pistol against its forehead and blew out the back of its head. Dismas hopped off the creature as it crumbled and turned to find Bigby being set upon by the floating monstrosity, his pause to help the thief left him open.

Dismas readied his pistol as quickly as possible and locked onto the deep stinger. He slipped when he tried to adjust his stance for better aim and instinctively looked down as he caught himself. Dismas’ nose immediately identified the splattering of black fluid was from Perimede’s bombs, the oily mixture slick when not ignited. Bigby’s fire whip inspired him suddenly and he dipped the tip of his pistol in the dangerous flammable oil before he took aim at the jellyfish once more. The recoil from the blast knocked him over and once the petite fireball penetrated the monster’s viscous form, and the heat lit up every pathway from within. The beast became beautifully incandescent before it exploded like a dazzling firework and stunned everyone in the vicinity. Dismas dropped the now piping hot pistol, its tip aflame and irreparably splintered.

The cavern suddenly shook and the orange flames that had engulfed the ghostly shipwreck turned blue and roared, sending gusts of heated wind everywhere. Perimede’s science clashed with the elder magics of the Deep Ones, and her flames persisted against the howling spirits trapped on the wreck.

Screeching and gurgling broke out from the tunnels along the caverns curved walls and several lightly armed hybrid fishmen rushed toward them from afar.

In the blink of an eye Bigby tackled Dismas out of a spears path, the crude weapon stuck in the ground right beside them.

“For fucks sake” Dismas huffed.

“Sorry” Bigby apologized, trying to free himself, the spear having pinned down his cloak.

“What? No, not you” the highwayman said, trying to free his friend. Just as Dismas pried the weapon from the rock, a pelagic guardian loomed over them, its curved blade raised high above its disfigured fish head.

Several slender metal chains, bloodied and spiked, suddenly wrapped around the brute’s face. It yowled in pain as the chains were pulled from behind and tore off a gratuitous amount of its blubbery flesh. The guard staggered and swung wildly behind it, one of its eyes severely damaged.

“Devil!” Dismas and Bigby heard Peter shout before another lash ripped more meat from their enemy’s face. Once the guardian dropped, unable to fight back, Peter finished it off with the spiked end of his flail.

“Let us find bliss in battle for the Light brothers!” Peter shouted at his teammates, already bleeding from several cuts and scrapes. Dismas and Bigby watched him run toward a fight the two had only just noticed in the distance. Reynauld was practically surrounded but steadily cut down one fish spearman after another. The crusader and flagellant made it to the cavern and Dismas was so relieved he couldn’t care less how. He and Bigby nodded to each other and made for the battle. The highwayman paused, realizing he was half armed, and quickly looked around him for anything else.

Dismas remembered the spear and backtracked a few feet to fetch it. He held it diagonally, spearpoint down, and stomped, freeing the spearhead from its shaft.

“Two blades are better than one I guess” he flipped his new weapon in his hand testing its heft and rushed to his friends.

As he made for the battle, a small pool he was about to pass exploded in a shower of rock and water. Dismas fell over and curled up trying to shield himself from the wet debris.

Before he could register anything, he froze amongst the rubble the moment he heard it...the clicking.

The highwayman sat up and couldn’t back away, paralyzed by fear, memories of his last excursion in the cove flashed before his eyes. In an instant, as he watched a giant barnacle covered claw loom above him through the watery mist, all he could see was the musketeer's face, purple and about to burst.

“DISMAS!” Reynauld’s voice carried across the cavern, snapping Dismas out of it.

The agile rogue rolled away from the huge claw before it slammed into the ground. The monstrous crab clicked its mandibles and scuttled closer with disturbing speed. He tumbled away from another attack, the aberrant beast’s strength leaving small craters where it missed the thief. Dismas dodged the third strike only just, his coat getting pinned in the ground along with the crab’s giant pincer, both stuck. From his position, Dismas reached for the tender joints between its appendage's exoskeleton and dug in his blade as deep as he could. A shrill whistle and spitting sent chills up the rogue’s spine as the thing tried to free its stuck and stabbed pincer.

The fiend raised its other claw for a final blow, but the foul thing was suddenly tackled, its pincer and Dismas’ coat set free. Crouched next to him now, teeth bared and toxic veins throbbing, was the crimson skinned abomination that is Bigby’s other miraculous form. Bigby lowered his snout and stalked forward, his eyes locked onto the freakish crustacean before them. He rushed the huge hybrid crab, lunged upward, and head-butted the creature with his horned skull. Just as Bigby closed in on his stunned foe, a fresh pelagic guardian slithered out of the nearest tunnel. He dodged its attack and readied himself as the guard resumed its onslaught.

Dismas rushed to Bigby’s side and slashed at the aquatic beast, but the fiend thrusted its thick hefty tentacles and slammed into Dismas’ chest. The thief knelt, the wind knocked out of him, but no less determined. Dismas threw his spearhead at the towering guard and the beast redirected his attack on Bigby to block the projectile. Now interrupted, Dismas took his chance and lunged at the pelagic guardian, his dirk slicing easily into its fleshy neck.

Just as their enemy fell, a large pincer slammed into Bigby from the side and sent him flying feet away. The nightmarish crab made for Dismas, walking sideways at him in defense of its other injured claw. Dismas dodged a vicious pinch but ate the ensuing backhand, the claw connecting with the highwayman’s shoulder.

He crashed into a cluster of spikey rocks and the friend scuttled to the thief, its good arm at the ready. Dismas sheathed his blade and lifted a broken stalagmite. He swatted at the giant claw snapping at him, but the beast’s pincer quickly grabbed onto Dismas’ makeshift club and yanked. The highwayman kept a sturdy grip on his cudgel and they both flew across the space. It raced to Dismas until a blinding flash erupted from him and beams of light scorched everything they touched. Reynauld leapt between Dismas and the monstrous arthropod, the holy scroll fastening itself back on the crusader’s belt. Reynauld held his sword vertically and quickly braced it with his gauntlet against the incoming strike. He took the hit without losing his footing and the two clashed until a particularly hefty swing had Reynauld stumble backward, the force too great. Dismas hopped toward him and put his hands out to catch Reynauld from the back to help the knight regain balance.

“Can you hold it still for a second so I can get close?” Dismas asked, taking a stance beside the crusader.

“Get close? Are you mad?” Reynauld asked, his gaze locked onto the monster before them.

“Don’t worry, it’s other arm is busted, see how it’s comin at us sideways” Dismas explained. Reynauld paused to consider their enemy and noticed how it favored its one side to keep the injured appendage away from them. Reynauld trusted in his partner’s gambit and nodded; they require cunning and precision over raw power.

The crusader wasted no time and dashed at the creature, Dismas close behind. Reynauld swung laterally several times before he came down at it in an intentionally exaggerated arch. Just as they hoped, the monstrous crustacean caught Reynauld’s sword with its pincer, the fiend and crusader locked in a tug of war. Now with enough time, Dismas slid under it and drove his blade into the creature’s upper joint. It lurched backward, both its claws now limp and useless.

Bigby suddenly leapt onto the giant crustacean from behind and tore into its body from its tender neck, his vicious claws tearing it literally inside out.

“Brother!” Peter called out and threw himself at the crusader. One of the terrible hybrid jellyfish from earlier lived on and latched onto Peter’s arm. The flagellant screamed as the electricity coursed through his body. But Peter’s painful yowling turned to a growl and with his other arm began to pull the beast toward him by its tentacle. He began to cackle, raised his flail once his powerless enemy was close, and plunged it deep into its gelatinous form over and over. The thing fell limp, and Peter staggered a moment before shaking off the residual electricity.

“WOOO! That was exhilarating!” he turned, smiling from ear to ear, his eye twitching now and then.

“Peter, how-” Dismas could barely ask.

“Oh, Dismas the pain, it was perfect wave after wave, every cell touched, every nerve activated, BLESSED!” he cried out.

“Peter settle down please-” Reynauld tried to slow the energized flagellant.

“But the pain has shown me things! Like how bad that is!” Peter said, pointing behind the crusader and highwayman. They turned to the ghost ship, that was now floating out of the water. The wreckage slowly rose higher and the blaze that clung to it raged on, burning green and blue. Its unstable energy violently shook the cavern walls, and the falling debris scattered the party and their enemies alike. The pool beneath the levitating ship churned into a whirlpool of glowing water and flames as spectral arms groped the pool’s edge.

Soon more aquatic hybrid enemies began to come out of whatever tunnels weren't blocked off by the quaking earth. The fish folk shamans ignored the heroes and began chanting at the haunted ship but quickly found it futile. Green lightning shot out from the whirlpool and carved gashes in the walls it raked across.

“Let’s go!” Reynauld shouted over the roaring flames and screaming wind. Dismas made for the stone table they had left their stolen goods but stopped dead in his tracks.

“Bigby!?” He turned and shouted in the direction he had seen him last. Bigby, human once more, stumbled from behind the monster crab’s corpse and swayed on his feet before dropping to his knees.

Dismas dashed toward him but was caught by the waist, the swift crusader reaching him just in time. The blazing hunk of wreckage lurched from its position over the storming whirlpool and slammed onto the ground, leaving a lake of fire as it dragged passed the pair.

“Peter!” Reynauld called out over the maelstrom and Peter quickly returned to the crusader’s side.

“Dismas collect what we’ve packed and stay at the table, Peter and I will fetch Bigby” he said loudly even that close, the caverns falling debris adding to the cacophony. Dismas nodded and made for the stone table.

Reynauld hurried to the edge of the tall blazing fire with Peter in tow.

“Our friend is beyond the flames” Reynauld began to instruct. “You must protect Bigby as I bring him through the flames. You must focus on him.”

“What about you brother?” Peter asked.

“The Flames blessing will protect me, but not Bigby. That is your task, you must bear his wounds. Do you understand Peter?”

“I accept this chance for ascension brother, thank you; agony in service of the Light and Flame is my ultimate purpose. May the blood flow” the flagellant stepped away to give the crusader space and began to pray.

Reynauld removed his helmet and pointed his sword upward.

“I carry the Spark, chosen by the Flame, I am its son and its sword, held in its embrace. O Flame…O Father…be with me” Reynauld invoked the deity. As the spirit judged him, everything Reynauld swore to protect flashed across his mind. He saw the Hamlet and its restoration, the abbey and its worshipers, the healing of the people and cleansing of the land. And then his kindling Dismas, laughing, crying, happy and sad. He saw his life with Dismas at his side and entered a trancelike state, the deity now with him.

Reynauld flipped the sword and brought it down tip first into the rocky ground. Rays of kaleidoscopic light erupted from its hilt, and the ensuing shockwave cleansed any fire in its radius, turning the inferno a brilliant white. Reynauld ran into the flames unafraid, eyes glowing gold.

The fire practically parted for the crusader, the heat from the dancing flames a whisper, a delicate zephyr against his cheek. Safely through, he immediately saw Bigby was close but locked onto the fish-men closing in and rushed them.

Sparks sputtered from the length of Reynauld’s sword with each blow, the metal glowing red hot. The blade cut through his foes with disturbing ease and any attacks they managed to connect, he didn’t feel. He cut everyone around them down and turned to the incoming group of pelagic creatures in the distance. The Flame took every step with Reynauld, and as they pointed the sword at their enemies, the war god spoke through the knight, a thousand warriors shouting at once.

“BEHOLD, THE BLADE OF JUDGEMENT” Reynauld’s many voices boomed and abruptly, from beneath the encroaching group of enemies erupted a gigantic prismatic blade of light, shaking the entire cavern. In a brilliant flash, each of the stunned foes burst into glittering embers, ebbing into nothing. Reynauld did not pause in his motions and swiftly threw Bigby over his shoulder.

“BLESSED VESSEL HEAR ME AND BESTOW YOUR MERCY” Reynauld and the Flame shouted. On the other side of the blaze, Peter was ready.

The flagellant hiked up his robe before getting on his knees, exposing a cilice on each thigh. Peter tightened each one before savagely tearing them off and howled, an unsettling mix of joy and pain. He held his arms out as his thighs bled and continued to pray.

“Through pain and agony, I give myself to the Light!!” he began to whip his back. “Pain is the Light’s song, and each wound a prayer heard” he continued through each verse. “Pain is my compass, every wound leading to the Light!” Peter quickened his lash’s pace.
‘Blood, body and bone, I give to thee, your child, YOUR VESSEL!” Peter cried out in ecstasy as he started to punch the bleeding wounds on his thighs, repeating the prayer in earnest.

The crusader ran into the flames and could instantly feel the regenerative aura surrounding Bigby, Peter’s rapturous exsanguination keeping the fire from harming him.

Once safely across the flames, Peter, bleeding profusely but as energized as ever, rushed over to help. Dismas joined the party, ladened with their loot and mortified, seeing almost every inch of Peter covered in blood.

“We really need to leave!” Dismas hollered, the ghost-ship still wreaking havoc on the cavern with raging winds and bolts of lightning. The domed ceiling of the cave fell all around them, thankfully keeping their foes at bay, while the thalassic mages tried to regain control of their failed summoning.

“This way!” Dismas shouted over the destruction.

“Where are we going” Reynauld asked, taking one of the packs from the thief, as they ran away from the growing chaos.

“I peeked at a map we just stole and there should be a small dock just outside the cavern for travel to the nearby reef they fish at, hopefully there’s a boat so we can get the fuck away from here” Dismas yelled over his shoulder, keeping his steady pace, pointing ahead of them.

The party followed Dismas along the lane of water leading from the storming pool within the cavern to the ocean, the exit framing the night sky beyond. Their path beside the water began to narrow the closer they got to their escape point and the rumbling of falling stone grew louder. Soon the collapsing tunnel began to chase them, rubble and smaller rocks flying past them as they ran as fast as they possibly could.

Once outside, they dashed onto a carved-out footing along the rocky coastline, while behind them the cavern entrance collapsed shut. Quickly and carefully, they traversed the path, dangerously slick from the lapping waves, the tide steadily coming for them. Dismas led them confidently onto shore, everyone glad to see the abandoned fishing shack and its tiny dock.

They lumbered into the small, weathered dinghy and once Dismas cut its tether, Reynauld and Peter rowed them quickly along the glassy surface of the water.

“Keep straight, we shouldn't be too far from the Hamlet from here” he said, surveying the coast.

“Are you certain?” Bigby asked, finally having caught his breath.

“Positive. It’s the same shoreline Viara and I followed when we left Insmouth, but we were on the road just beyond those trees. This map is almost identical to the one we already got back home; except this one goes further down the coast. Hopefully, this straightish shot should get us home in half the time it took me and V on that winding headache of a road” Dismas assured them.

And so, they did, just before sunrise.

The groups arrival shocked the fisherman that had started their day on the docks preparing their ships and supplies. The party was filthy and smelled of fish and Perimede’s sweet petroleum concoction, to say nothing of Peter being stained in his own blood from head to toe. Reynauld greeted them as they hurried over to help, the crusader a familiar face to the people of the Hamlet. Reynauld asked one of the helpful fishers to bring their packs to Mr. Drew and asked the other to have three vestals meet them en route to the abbey. Free of their loot, Dismas helped Bigby onto the docks as the poor man had turned green, his first time traveling by sea had not agreed with him at all. The crusader leaned Peter against him as they went; the flagellant’s severe blood loss had finally weakened him.

The Hamlet was thankfully still quiet as dawn was only just upon them, but to Dismas and Reynauld’s horror, they spotted Viara in the town square with two very official looking men. She had a very fine day dress on, and her hair was set impeccably atop her head, armed for charm or deception.

Unfortunately, given their trajectory from the docks, Viara’s guests spotted them first and remarked to the marchioness. Viara turned and her gentle smile quickly dissolved into shock and fury. She straightened her back and adjusted her mask before she turned to the two men once more.

“Dismas hurry” Reynauld said quietly to the highwayman beside him, both slower trying to hold up their friends.

“Well, he ain’t so light for someone so skinny” Dismas huffed, adjusting Bigby’s arm over his shoulder.

“Hey…” Bigby said, woozy but incredulous. He suddenly vomited a bright green acid, stopping everyone in their tracks. Viara swooped in on them.

“As glad as I am that everyone has come back in once piece, please get to where you’re going as quickly as humanly possible” she whispered harshly.

“Everything alright Lady Beauffant?” one of the gentlemen asked, having followed her. Viara spun around, genuinely startled.

“Oh! Oh, yes, yes of course DETECTIVE Hampton and OFFICER Leary, we have everything under control...yes?” She turned to Dismas and Reynauld, her eyes wide for a moment. The clever marchioness stepped slightly to her right, completely blocking the wanted highwayman from view. Everyone turned toward sudden gasps and a flurry of white robes.

“Holy Vessel!” three incoming vestals shrieked and at once tore Peter away from Reynauld. With a delicate arcane touch one vestal quickly removed his spiked shackles and collar while the other two wrapped him in pristine white cloth.

“…no…not yet…” Peter mumbled, feebly struggling against the sturdy vestals as they lifted him away, whispering verses as they went.

“A brother of the Flame and a Vessel, we didn’t know your abbey housed such blessings” the older of the two men said, and bowed slightly to Reynauld from the waist, his open palm flat against his chest.

“Yes…we are truly blessed in this” Reynauld said, surprised by their reverence.

“Yes, indeed. We are truly led by our faith. They were just at the docks praying with the fishermen for safety after these storms we’ve been having as of late” Viara smiled wide, her hands together as if in prayer.

“I’m afraid our volunteer for the ritual doesn’t have his sea legs just yet” Reynauld joined in the lie.

“Dis- uh, Jobe, please hurry Bigby to the sanitarium for a tincture and some rest, Dr Aegeus will know what to do” Viara said, shoving Dismas and Bigby toward the sanitarium.

“May I properly introduce, Commander Reynauld Galin of the Northern Expanse” Viara proudly presented the filthy crusader. Reynauld nodded at the men.

“I am afraid their visit is more business than pleasure. We have a zealot on the loose, punishing anyone he thinks is ‘cursed’ with some crimson something or other” she told Reynauld who feigned shock, knowing Viara’s spies had already brought her this information.

“So you’ve not heard of this fanatical priest terrorizing the countryside?” Detective Hampton asked.

“I am afraid not; I l know what the prior and her ladyship tell me. I keep to the cloisters. But it would be quite unfortunate should he happen upon our little hamlet” Reynauld said.

“Indeed. You’ll find our abbey residents are very protective of us all. I couldn't harbor a crazed priest if I tried the way my dear prior practically runs us all” Viara laughed, hoping to prey upon her guest’s piety.

“Oh yes, he spares none the stick” Reynauld forced a laugh.

“Are you men of worship detective?” Viara asked.

“Some more than others” Hampton said, the comment clearly aimed at his young partner.

“Hey, my sister became a vestal, I’m sure my mother can forgive me missing a few feast days” Leary chuckled with Viara only, the detective and crusader were less amused. Viara cleared her throat.

“Perhaps you would like to see the abbey? I find myself there quite often, it’s so tranquil” Viara said, ignoring Reynauld’s glance at her.

“We wouldn’t want to interrupt the Dawn Break” Hampton said apologetically, after checking his pocket watch.

“I am impressed detective, few are aware of the more intimate rituals of the Light and Flame” Reynauld was genuine in his praise, Dawn Break being a very traditional practice few outside of a temple would know of.

“I studied for the crusade in my youth but caught some trouble with my knee making me useless on a battlefield” Hampton chuckled nervously. It was only then Reynauld noticed his deep laugh lines and the greying hair at his temples.

“Perhaps you could join us at the abbey and show detective Hampton and officer Leary the jewel of our Hamlet” her suggestion a veiled command.

“As soon as I am presentable, I would be happy to join you” Reynauld agreed.

“After mass we can show you the abbey as well as the cloisters, though I’m afraid their gardens are a bit lifeless as summer leaves us. My roses are no match for Demeter’s chilly bosom” Viara giggled, her hand placed gently on the detective’s arm for the briefest moment.

“Take your time please. We would actually like to speak to the townsfolk if your ladyship has no objections? Benign and routine questions, I assure you Lady Beauffant. Though, I would ask…without an escort” the detective made his offer to the elegant grave robber.

“Only the truly just bare themselves to the Light and Flame, without lament or lie” Viara nodded at the men. Reynauld was stunned silent, gawking at her.

“So say the verses” Hampton replied, Leary quickly following suit.

“So say the verses” Reynauld blurted out, forgetting himself, still shocked hearing Viara properly recite any of the verses.

“I assure you detective; we are a simple people here” he added.

“Indeed. We are blessed in that. Not many interesting things happen here but we gladly honor our humble living” Viara smiled kindly, until the Sanitarium doors slammed open. Perimede raced toward them, disheveled and frantic, holding an empty glass jar and a small hand shovel. The doctor slid to a halt and crouched over the little pool of acid Bigby had thrown up just before. She carefully shoveled the fluid into the jar and stood up smiling from ear to ear.

“Yes hello hi! Good day, I am VERY busy thank you, excuse me thank you good day!” she spat the one long word, her pupils the size of dinner plates, and raced back to the sanitarium.

Viara turned to her guests and chuckled.

“Will you be staying for luncheon?” she smiled wide at them.

Chapter Text

The officers left without incident, but their warnings lingered heavily with the group. Viara made sure to keep the Hamlet elders abreast given how far rumors had come, tasking Obi with reinforcing the small but eager nightly watch. Before the weather got any colder, Viara used a mission’s substantial windfall and scheduled as many expeditions as possible, sending squads armed to the teeth.

Days later, early morning on the eve of the next mission to the Warrens.

“So, it can rotate to another chamber that’s already loaded?” the flabbergasted highwayman asked the blacksmith as they swooned over exotic blueprints.

“Yes! His late lordship’s plans Lady Beauffant found for the weapon are strange and well beyond my skill, but thankfully sir Alzalam helped. I’ve never seen such techniques and mathematics” the artisan said ecstatic. Dismas was glad that not all the knowledge the ancestor accumulated was occult or inherently evil.

Suddenly, the hamlet’s large gate yawned open and Dismas spun around immediately, his breath caught in his chest, bracing for anything as the returning party filed in. William limped along with the vestal Jahna under one arm for support, one leg heavily bandaged, his loyal hound ever at his side. Reynauld followed behind them, a large pack slung over his shoulder, dragging a pile of beaten armor on a makeshift sled.

“Thank the light” Dismas said under his breath, and the knot around his belly finally relented. Before he could rush to meet Reynauld, the crusader held up his hand from afar to stall the thief. He handed the stout pack to one of the townsfolk that had come out to welcome the team and headed toward Dismas and the smithy.

Reynauld hauled the battle beaten armor and broken sword to the blacksmith’s feet.

“Good morning, all” Reynauld groaned, massaging the shoulder now free of its burden. “It’s all yours Balimund, if you can use any of it” the crusader said.

“Ho ho! I certainly can and will! Thank you Reynauld!” the starry-eyed smithy exclaimed, scooping up the pile of scrap armor with surprising ease. Reynauld quickly snatched his own helmet from the pile before Balimund disappeared into his workshop. With deliberate care and caution, the knight tucked the upturned helmet awkwardly in the pit of his arm, the movement not lost on the cunning highwayman.

Dismas stepped toward the crusader, eyeing his helmet before shifting to the man’s handsome features, somehow enhanced by the sweat and dirt all over him.

“You’re late” he said, fighting off a grin, defenseless against Reynauld’s charming smile.

“Forgive me” Reynauld put a hand to his heart as he bowed slightly to Dismas, not considering the subtle gesture’s subsequent effect. The helmet he coveted so thoughtfully tilted with him, letting loose a singular gold coin that fell flat between them.

The stunned rogue raised his eyebrows at the crusader, who cleared his throat and kept his eyes on Dismas.

“I think you dropped something love” Dismas said to the ogling and red-faced crusader, both holding back laughter.

“Have I?” Reynauld unashamedly feigned ignorance, scanning the floor. He casually picked up the small coin, now even more careful with the helmet under his arm. Reynauld flicked the gold piece to Dismas and like lightning the highwayman plucked the small thing out of the air.

“And there’s more where that came from” Reynauld said soft and low, closing the distance between them. Dismas was surprised at such closeness in broad daylight but not enough to back away. The rogue straightened his back, shooting for confidence but from this proximity, Dismas still had to look up to address Reynauld.

“Are you trying to shut me up with coin?” Dismas said, eyes narrowed in mock suspicion.

“I am doing no such thing, however…” Reynauld leaned down to speak into the thief’s ear. “I can think of several other ways to keep your mouth occupied” the crusader whispered. Now it was Dismas who turned crimson, shrinking in the open street.

“Are you drunk?” Dismas asked, only half in jest and Reynauld threw his head back cackling.

“Not completely no, but I’ve had some of William’s scotch to help with my wounds since we ran out of bandages” the knight said, much to the thief’s visible chagrin. “I’m bleeding a little” Reyanuld added nonchalantly.

“Wait, what?” Dismas immediately shifted gears and stepped back to look at Reynauld and only then noticed his glassy eyes and pallid skin.

“It’s just a few cuts that need stitching” Reynauld said, unable contain his smile seeing Dismas so concerned.

“Tsk…well off we go you ninny” the thief commanded with a huff and the two made for the sanitarium.

Dismas had to wrestle the small triage kit from Perimede while she vehemently insisted, at length, that she be present while he stitched Reynauld’s wounds. Finally overpowering the petite doctor’s freakish strength, he closed the lab’s door quickly behind him and led Reynauld to an empty room further down the ward.

Dismas methodically began to dismantle the crusader’s metallic shell, section by section just as Reynauld had shown him long ago. The highwayman sucked his teeth seeing several nicks and dents in the metal. He thanked the ruined steel, trying not to imagine the blows that could so easily warp the alloy. Once rid of his carapace and the gambeson beneath, Dismas slowly dabbed a wet towel across Reynauld’s broad shoulders and back, cursing every cut and scrape he found.

“Was the mission a success?” Dismas asked, gently cleaning the wounds with an antiseptic that none of them could feel the sting of anymore.

“All things considered yes, save for that fool” Reynauld sighed, regretting his callous tone. “Light forgive me, that is no way to speak of the dead” he said and muttered a quiet verse.

“Holy shit!” Dismas suddenly realized their party returned one man short. “Was that the new guy’s armor?” the highwayman was shocked by the epiphany but more so by the knight’s tepid condolences.

“Jeoffrey, yes. Hopefully Balimund can do something with all that wasted metal” Reynauld yawned.

“Wait, you all left his body out there?” Dismas asked.

“You know I would do no such a thing, even if he did lie and try to impersonate a Brother of the Flame. He broke ranks and ran terrified into a pile of beasts that literally tore his armor apart and dragged him away. We had no body to bring back” Reynauld shrugged.

“Damn Rey” Dismas snickered, trying to keep the needle and thread steady.

Later that evening, as per their tradition to celebrate the heroes who were up next for an excursion, the heroes of the hamlet gathered at the tavern. Tonight, they honored Musar, Dismas, Jinthura and Obi, the chosen for the next bout into the Warrens.

Conversation flowed steadily with an endless supply of tall drinks and taller tales.

General trepidation aside, Dismas joined in the merry making, hoping his manufactured confidence would stick, but as the hour grew late, fear whispered in his ear and rose like frost in his chest. His mask began to slip, and he set to overserve himself, drowning the malign visions of swine folk in whiskey and weed until he could laugh at the persisting horrors closing in.

William joined them later in the evening, feeling well enough to walk, Laika by his side. Dismas immediately greeted the hound first, and wagging her tail, she trotted happily to the highwayman. Dismas nuzzled into her face, scratching her behind the ears, feeling a different warmth from the dog’s pure and unconditional affection.

“I guess a father’s love means nothing to her” William griped in jest, Laika always abandoning him when Dismas is nearby, the highwayman obviously obliging the hound absolutely every time.

“That can’t be true, is it little Laika?” Viara cooed at the hound from across the table and exhaled dramatically, her cheeks flushed from drink. “I’d kill you all to ride out on one more hunt with my father” she mused, memories of her youth bittersweet in her hazy mind.

“Bah, they’re not all they’re cracked up to be” Dismas countered, winking at William while gently scratching Laika’s muzzle.

“I’ll drink to that” Reynauld took a hefty swig from his tankard, surprised he’d commented at all.

“Tough time with your old man?” Dismas asked, never knowing much about Reynauld’s family.

“That is a story for another time” the crusader chuckled through the pang of fear that any memory of his father induced, the abundance of liquor loosening the earth above his long-buried pain.

“Well,” Dismas hiccupped, “That’s what would have made you a good father, I think. If yours taught you anything, it was at least how to not be a dick” the thief said sympathetically, unaware as to the nerve he had struck. Reynauld mustered up a feeble smile, rousing the tiniest suspicion in Dismas.

“Hear hear! I’m sure you were a perfect father to little Alexan-” Viara began excitedly but quickly cupped her mouth shut, her eyes widening, mortified. Musar was visibly affected and shifted in his seat beside Viara, exhaling deeply before emptying his tankard. Dismas was struck dumb and his mind was flooded with speculation. He swallowed hard, and pulled at his collar as heat rose up his neck, his wide waistbelt suddenly tighter than before. A tangible pall quickly invaded the space, and Dismas was embarrassed; they all obviously knew something he did not. He had always given Reynauld grace regarding his past, knowing how delicate any one subject could be, especially when pertaining to the familial.

Should he not be privy to such things given how close they had become? Is he not trustworthy enough? Reynauld knew practically everything about him and perhaps that was exactly the point he thought, wounded by his own insinuations. Mayhap the devout crusader didn’t think he could trust the disreputable thief. His own past came into focus, in great juxtaposition to the knight in a myriad of mostly speculative ways.

The silence birthed hundreds of questions, but only one dove off his tongue.

“You…you have a son?” Dismas asked Reynauld, the question sucking the air out of the room. Blood started to thump in his ears, the liquor magnifying every irrational thought and emotion, rage melding with pain.

“Dismas…” Reynauld tried to find the words, heart in his throat. Dismas felt every eye at the table on him and stood up before he knew he was doing so.

“It’s only me and Musar. He never told us himself; we dug it up” Viara blurted out, trying to salvage the increasingly awkward mess she was making worse by elaborating. Dismas looked to Musar, who made no statement although his earlier reaction clearly implicated him. The brawny man stood up and walked away, leaving Dismas reeling, a nauseating vertigo taking hold.

Dismas hurried out of the tavern faster than his legs allowed, stumbling passed tables and knocking glasses over, barley keeping his balance.

The chilly night air filled his lungs, the fresh burst of oxygen helping the alcohol penetrate more of his blood. He made it some ways away from the tavern before bending over to vomit in the ominous shadow of the sanitarium, its blank brutalist facade made matte and maleficent against the starry night sky. Dismas leaned against the building to catch his breath, the expulsion burning his throat.

His mind was racing, trying to understand this new and hidden facet of Reynauld’s life. Dismas couldn’t pinpoint what affected him so, but either way, his spirit-soaked mind was racing.

“Dismas” Reynauld’s quiet call, clear in the silent night froze Dismas to the spot and dizzying raged filled him; the betrayer approached.

“Well let’s hear it then” Dismas spat, hot right out of the gate. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and turned to face the crusader. Reynauld swayed where he stood, searching for the words through the alcohol, the words he couldn’t find even when Viara presented him with his past those many months ago.

“It is complicated” Reynauld said and Dismas chuckled.

“If I had a gold piece for every time a man said that to me” Dismas hiccupped and reflected a moment. “Well…I wouldn’t have very many pieces but that’s not the point!” his voice raspy.

“Please understand…” Reynauld tried to organize his thoughts, but any mustered-up words turned to ash in his mouth. Dismas wanted clarity and Reynauld agreed he deserved it.

“Well?!” Dismas stepped toward the crusader, stumbling as he got close. Reynauld reached for him but Dismas caught himself and shoved Reynauld away, both unsteady where they stood, still swimming in booze.

“I…” Reynauld tried once more to articulate a confession and failed. He couldn’t believe this was the setting for expressing one of the darkest parts of himself, to the man he loves no less. Reynauld was sure at some point he’d have found the strength and a far more opportune time to tell him but he was left with no choice now. The crusader found it difficult to breathe as visions of his abandoned family surfaced. Actual memories melded with the terrifying possibilities of their fate the alien crystal had fabricated during their mission on the Farmstead. He desperately clung to the moments of happiness that he knew to be true, trying to protect them from his unyielding shame.

Dismas’ emotions teetered from one extreme to another and his anger dissolved into self-loathing. He felt unworthy before the knight, less than by his own drunken estimation. He felt foolish in his belief that Reynauld would ever truly trust him, that an accomplished soldier and nobleman would wholly accept him.

“Just admit it, you never wanted to get that close, not with someone like me” Dismas said, breathing quickly from his nose. He could see the pain in Reynauld’s face but couldn’t care less, the knight was the one who lied, who was keeping secrets.

“Please understand, this is not about you personally” Reynauld tried to start somewhere.

“Excuse me if that’s a bit difficult to believe Rey” Dismas argued, his speech slurring.

“It wasn’t my intention to share such things with just anyone” Reynauld said.

“And I guess I’m part of just anyone then?” Dismas asked.

“No, you are not just anyone Dismas”

“Then what is it?! You seem perfectly fine with Musar and Viara knowing. Why not me if the cat was already outta the bag?!” Dismas’ vision blurred and irrational rage bubbled up and he threw up more whiskey and wine.

“I didn’t want anyone to know!” Reynauld matched the thief’s tone, something he seldom did.

“So, I AM just anyone!” Dismas exclaimed.

“That is not at all what I am saying” Reynauld said, his jaw clenched, growing increasingly more frustrated.

“How is it not?! You just said it!” the rogue barked.

“Do not twist my meaning” the crusader said curtly, mostly annoyed with himself.

“Oh, well forgive me, I’m just a silly thief who doesn’t know better. Please explain it to me, slowly” Dismas mocked. Reynauld took a deep breath, overwhelmed with equal parts guilt and anger.

“This is not something one simply brings up at random. I had-” Reynauld tried to defend himself.

“What difference does that make, you weren’t going to bring it up at all!” Dismas abruptly cut him off.

“That is not true” Reynauld said confidently though he knew a lie lived there.

“Right, and I’m supposed to believe that too” Dismas stated more than asked.

“Yes…” Reynauld said without thinking beyond that. He was angry because other than not telling him he’d fallen in love with him the moment they met, Reynauld had never truly held anything back from Dismas. But this was more than the both of them, this was an open wound Reynauld felt the pain of everyday and could barely face it himself, let alone share such shame with another.

“So, when were you planning on telling me?” Dismas asked, arms crossed. Reynauld swallowed hard and the old adage rang true; honesty is the best policy.

“I cannot say I was ever truly planning on it. It is a sin I have been ashamed of to this day and…” Reynauld took a deep breath, the embarrassment clipping at his tongue. “I couldn’t bring myself to share my failings as a husband and father with you” the crusader confessed, no part of his burden lighter than before.

“Please excuse me while I call bullshit” Dismas barked, shocking Reynauld. Drunk or not, he expected more empathy from the highwayman.

“Please understand, what I did was-” Reynauld attempted to explain.

“What you did was make a fucking fool of me in front of everyone!” Dismas yelled.

“I didn’t bring it up, Viara did!” the knight tried not to scream.

“Like that’s supposed to make me feel better! You would have gladly just sat me in the dark forever!” Dismas yelled, and Reynauld couldn’t deny there was some truth in that.

“I am glad for none of this Dismas” Reynauld said lower, a fresh wave of disappointment crashing over him.

“You sure? Up until tonight you’ve been pretty unfazed by it all” the thief tilted his head, his tone light but razored.

“That is not true” Reynauld said confidently.

“Then what is?! I can’t say your trust in me has been all that true”

“Of course I trust you” Reynauld pleaded, stepping toward Dismas. The highwayman refused the crusader’s open arms and backed away.

“You mean you trust me enough to fuck me but not enough to tell me about an entire family you had” Dismas hissed. His unconscious mind knew he’d never utter such a thing sober, but he knew the remark, however inaccurate, cut Reynauld deeply.

“Dismas, I trust you with my life” Reynauld whispered, his voice low and pitiful.

“Only half of your life is more like it” Dismas said, unable to see how unjust he was, his drunken pride overpowering his affection for the knight. “Just admit it, you don’t think I’m good enough for anything but a good bang and maybe showing you a few tricks your wife couldn’t” Dismas wounded the knight again, both at their limit.

“Do not insult me again with your bile!” Reynauld shouted, stepping up to Dismas, the abrupt exclamation silencing him. The highwayman backed up against the sanitarium, shaken by Reynauld’s volume, the fury so plain on his face. “If you want to believe that our entire relationship hinges on THE ONE part of me I’ve kept private, NOT secret, then perhaps YOU don’t feel good you’re enough!” the crusader roared. Dismas trembled before him, breath caught in his chest, fighting the stinging behind his eyes. He had never heard Reynauld refer to their relationship directly and his heart broke against his unreasonable anger.

“Some relationship!” was all the rogue could muster, the truth in Reynauld’s accusation choking him.

The moment of silence between them was deafening and Reynauld turned away to leave.

“Don’t you fuckin dare walk away from me!” Dismas yelled after the knight, grabbing him by his shoulder.

“WHAT THEN?! What is it you want from me?!” Reynauld hollered, grabbing Dismas by the arms, pushing him against the wall.

“To know I abandoned my wife and five-year-old son? To know that the woman I was forced to marry still loved me unconditionally while I played a role for my father?! To know that even when I tried to return to them I couldn’t?! That I abandoned them TWICE?! Is that the shame you need to be aware of to smother your own?! Would you feel worthy then!?” he barked, shaking the thief, their faces inches apart.

“By the Flame’s ass spare me! You’re a grown man; you want me to think your mean ol’daddy made you live like that” Dismas pushed him away.

“I’d love to see you try and live an entire life that had been laid out and planned since before you were born!” Reynauld said, remaining close to the thief.

“Oh no, you poor thing, had a rich family that forced you to stay rich!” Dismas hollered.

“Some of us didn’t have the luxury of freedom, social or otherwise. Some of us had duties beyond our own needs, not that you ever had a duty to anyone but yourself! I imagine you’d have pickpocketed the midwives had you been able to see fresh from the womb”

“Pfft, you mad that I would have had enough sense to actually live free along with poppa’s money as soon as I had the chance?” Dismas snarled.

“Naturally it’s down to the money with you, not that you would have been able to stand the lie of it all to begin with. I’d have given you a month before you and whoever you think you are would have turned tail under the weight of having to do anything for anyone other than yourself!” Reynauld yelled.

“You mean I’d have run away just like you only a lot sooner?” Dismas countered.

“At least I left for a greater cause and saved lives while doing so” Reynauld said, wishing that fact held more weight in his heart.

“Yea and at whose expense! You just hate that I got to live my life exactly how I wanted without having to abandon a wife and son!” Dismas hollered.

“Abandoned them alive! The last mother and child you crossed paths with you left a bullet in each!” Reynauld leaned down to shout in Dismas’ face. Dismas punched Reynauld without a thought, the strike barely moving the crusader.

“Fuck you” the highwayman’s voice broke, and he shoved passed Reynauld.

Reynauld leaned against the sanitarium, the moment having unfolded so quickly it dizzied him. He was overwhelmed by a sense of loss, as if Dismas had walked away from him forever, never to be seen again and not because of some devil or fiend, but because of this tragedy of his own making. He felt cold, his chest cracked open and exposed to the frigid night, this new sin carved keenly onto his heart.

Dismas woke with a start, the low sun piercing through his squinting eyes like knives into his brain. He was exhausted, his nightmares having chased him till morning, indistinct now but tenacious through the night. Immediately, memories of every regrettable thing he had uttered only hours ago flooded into him and he was ashamed. Fear soon accompanied his pain as he realized that not only was he without Reynauld beside him but that he would be leaving today for another expedition into the Warrens. Dismas jumped out of bed, quicker than his throbbing head would allow, and leaned on his bedside table for a moment as the room spun. A sudden knock at the door focused him.

“Dismas, you up?” Musar asked from the hallway. Dismas’ heart sank as quick as it had fluttered, having hoped it was Reynauld.

“Yea…yea I’m up” Dismas answered, already decent, having blacked out fully dressed. Musar opened the door, careful to remain in the entryway.

“Sorry for the early hour but Obi wants us to head out sooner than planned, now actually” Musar said, avoiding eye contact with the rogue.

“Alright, I’ll be ready in a bit I just…” Dismas trailed off, not wanting to remember last night let alone discuss it in any way, shape or form.

“Of course. Take your time but not too much, you know how Obi is” Musar offered with a smile, hoping the mention of the man-at-arms’ fussing could lighten the moment. Dismas didn’t respond and began to change into new clothes, the bounty hunter more than willing to leave him to it. Once freshly dressed and fully equipped, Dismas headed straight for the abbey.

Dismas waved to the prior as he approached the abbey steps, the holy-man’s sweeping evidence to how early it was.

“Good morning Dismas” he smiled genuinely at the thief.

“Good morning prior” Dismas responded in kind, the gentle priest always making him feel welcome.

“It indeed is. A crisp dawn is good for the humors and blood” he said, taking a deep breath.

“Yea, crisp. Um, would you know where Rey, uh that is, Brother Reynauld is?” Dismas asked, trying to always be respectful of the sacred house and its tenets.

“I’m afraid he’s gone out early to catch some extra fish for this weekend’s feast day. But I am certain he’ll return before you leave for the Warrens” the prior said fondly.

Dismas’ heart sank and prickling fear crawled up the back of his neck.

“Is something amiss?” the prior asked, stopping his sweeping and stepping down closer to Dismas, who had gone stiff and silent.

“It’s just that the general wants us to leave early, well, now apparently and…” the highwayman trailed off, the idea of not seeing Reynauld before a perilous mission ringing in his ears.

“Oh, I see” the holy-man said, not needing to study Dismas’ face to understand what Reynauld’s absence at such a time meant. “He only left before sun up to be sure he’d return before you left, he had no idea you would be departing so much sooner” the prior added in an attempt to soothe Dismas somehow.

The rogue tried to take some solace in knowing Reynauld hadn’t planned on not saying goodbye but was overwhelmed by the inescapable reality that he was leaving without seeing him. Dismas was prepped for the Warrens but never felt more helpless and unarmed. He was suddenly anxious as if lost, the prior standing before him now a stranger and the hamlet a strange land. Dismas was leaving without the comfort of a goodbye, the usual quick verse for protection or a stolen kiss for luck. Whether it was to be their last or not, he was robbed of it now. Worse still, they had been harsh to one another, the last words shared between them ugly and unkind.

Dismas wanted it to make him brave, to make him try even harder to come back alive, to come back and run into Reynauld’s arms, apologizing for every mean thing he’d ever said. But Reynauld was out on the water, unaware Dismas was leaving and the thief couldn’t bear the repercussions. Reynauld would return to find Dismas gone and be undone by it, just like the thought unraveled the highwayman where he stood.

“Perhaps the general would be willing to-” the prior began but was cut off by the booming voice of the aforementioned man-at-arms.

“DISMAS!” Obi hollered from down the road. “We have nocturnal pests to surprise, we leave NOW!”

The command dropped into Dismas’ belly like stone and he cleared his throat, fighting back bile. He took a deep breath, and shut his eyes tight trying to stop the world from spinning around his pounding head. Dismas opened his eyes when a gentle hand suddenly cupped his shoulder.

“The Light and Flame watch over you my son, you will return to us…to him” the prior said quietly to the troubled thief. Dismas smiled weakly, words impossible to utter while his sour stomach tensed and twisted.

“DISMAS WE-” Obi tried to holler once more.

“FOR FUCKS SAKE OLD MAN! ME AND ALL THE HAMLET HEARD YOU THE FIRST TIME!” Dismas shouted at the man-at-arms and headed down the lane toward him, thanking the prior over his shoulder as he went. He strode past Obi, lit his rolled pipe weed and sulked by the carriage while it was loaded, trying to numb himself.

The journey to the Warrens and much of the march within was a blur to the highwayman, his mind too unfocused to be afraid but luckily not enough to be a poor shot. The few enemies they had encountered were easy enough to dispose of mainly thanks to the hour and the subsequent element of surprise it bore against the predominantly nocturnal swine folk.

After a small skirmish the group took a moment to rest, tidying up equipment and injury alike.

As Jinthura tended to a cut across the back of Obi’s neck, Dismas skulked away to a dark corner and sparked his pipe-weed, inhaling deep of the soothing herb. Musar tried to adjust and sort his gear but was too distracted by the highwayman around the corner trying to lose himself in a cloud of smoke. Not at all innocent of acting out under the influence before, he sympathized with the rogue, knowing Dismas scene was made worse by having had an audience. Musar huffed and gave up trying to reorganize his pack, his brain and heart at odds, torn between staying out of people’s business and comforting the man he still held affection for. Once again, up against Dismas, Musar’s brain lost to his heart.

The bounty hunter approached and Dismas didn’t move, save to reignite the herd, not sure what to expect from Musar in this quiet respite.

“Mind if I partake? This place still gets under my skin” Musar asked, leaning against a large boulder. Dismas passed the smoldering intoxicant.

“Peri’s new and improved laudanum not strong enough?” Dismas asked as Musar tried to cough quietly into the crook of his elbow.

“That woman is mad. Her medicine kept me up for two days” Musar shivered remembering how her concoction meant for stress relief made him want to peel his skin off. Dismas couldn’t help but chuckle remembering the plague doctor’s trial process, of which she herself is usually the first test subject.

“But I’m certainly glad she’s on our side” the rogue easily admitted. Musar grunted, agreeing with the sentiment through his genuine fear of their mad genius of a doctor. The silence as they smoked was heavy and the atmosphere alien to Musar, never having had to deal with this much second-hand emotion, let alone his own conflicting feelings for the thief.

“Look…I know I had sniffed out Rey’s past” Musar began, both of them shifting uncomfortably where they stood. “But it wasn’t…”. Musar paused, not sure how to go on, not sure what even propelled him to explain himself. The moment stretched and he embraced what his mind had tried to drown in apathy. He hated seeing Dismas hurt and more so hated that he had a hand in it, as blameless as he was, he felt compelled to apologize.

“We really don’t have to do this” the thief said, taking a good long drag from the burning flower. Musar was at a loss, the very concept of Dismas had been unfamiliar territory for the bounty hunter. In any other situation, Dismas would have been just another mark with a decent reward. Currently he was a gravity Musar couldn’t escape, the common denominator of an unsolvable equation his heart tasked him with unraveling. Musar was afraid of the answer, afraid that such a thing would blur his focus, shadow any certainty with doubt and most of all, change him. Logic had no seat amongst his emotions and so he sat with them, exposed and unsure.

Dismas waited for a response, fighting against the lie of wanting to be left alone. He was terrified of every aspect of the situation and wanted to scream into the darkness. Reynauld would have already made it back from fishing by now to find Dismas gone and the thought of what the crusader would be feeling choked him. He took a deep breath in an attempt to combat the sting behind his eyes.

“It’s a lot to leave a life behind when you feel like there’s no other choice and we both know Rey and lying don’t mix” Musar said and Dismas’ heart clenched from the truth in it. He looked Musar in the eyes and had never seen sympathy in them, be it for him or any other living soul. They held the gaze and longing peeked out from behind Musars’ pity for the rogue who quickly cleared his throat and looked away, pangs of guilt jabbing him in the chest. Dismas knew he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought of their moment of passion together those many nights ago. Musar hesitated as he stepped toward Dismas, head and heart pulling him in different directions. Dismas swallowed hard at his approach, not sure where to keep his eyes.

“Musar I…” Dismas tried to say until metal clanging and shouts erupted from camp. The two rushed around the corner from the small alcove and came upon an unbelievably grizzly scene.

They were stupefied by the nightmare before them. A towering figure hovered slightly above the ground, its decaying robe hanging loose on its skeletal form. Its exposed skull was locked in a jagged pronged cage, wreathed in azure flames that illuminated the space in its malevolent blue light. To their horror, the false king in yellow held up the head and spine of their dear friend and gently slipped it into his robe.

“OBIIII!!” Jinthura cried out as the man-at-arm’s decapitated body fell limp.

In an instant Jinthura’s entire world collapsed and the pain’s infinite weight tore a chasm into her heart. In the black depths of grief, her love and rage fused together, becoming greater than her faith, greater than any discipline she had mastered. Jinthura succumbed to her suffering, her last glimmer of hope swallowed by Obi’s violent taking. The vestal’s soul blackened, her light twisted by pain, willingly trading her blessings for malice. Nowhere is safe now, the vestalis maxima would burn the world in his name.

Her tear-streaked face contorted with rage and she roared at her foe, tearing at her clothes and hair, pounding on her chest. The sound rushed in every direction like a thundering train, a violent stampede that shook the tunnel. The ground cracked beneath her feet and sweltering winds lashed outward from her as she began to levitate.

Jinthura held her mace aloft and as she began to chant, golden sigils of light drew themselves in circular arrays around the weapon and beneath her feet. Soon the mace began to vibrate, the light of the arcane glyphs shifting to a furious red, her eyes turning the same bright and unfamiliar color. The startling crimson frightened Dismas, her aura akin to that of Alzalam’s eldritch thaumaturgy and he could feel her tapping into those very same dark arts.

Jinthura held her mace out horizontally before her, gripped the glowing end, and dramatically pulled away. A whip of red lighting and flame flared into existence, flourishing around her, curling and cracking at her whim.

“BY THE LIGHT BE DAMNED!” a chorus of godly voices boomed from the vestal, testing the fracturing tunnel’s integrity.

She struck the towering fiend and crimson sparks spread outward like fireworks. It was one lash after another, flash after flash of red while she wailed and shouted words in celestial tongues, words of chaos and doom. But even amongst the thundering voices, he could hear her pain. Tears welled in his eyes, as her sorrow reverberated in every direction and penetrated his mind, his own heart torn asunder.

Suddenly, the fragment of Alzalam’s Black Beast in him shuddered and shifted amongst Dismas’ thoughts, never being so at the forefront of his mind before. The raging arcane energies disturbed the ether all around them and thinned the veil between he and it, the Beast’s own fear riddling Dismas with a surreal secondhand terror. It failed to convince Dismas to run, the highwayman’s desire to help his friends dominated everything else. Now on the precipice of madness, Dismas side stepped the fear and was stalwart, courage coursing through him amongst the whirling chaos.

The Collector finally held up a skeletal arm against the vestal’s onslaught, and an aegis of blue flames erupted between them.

Jinthura banished the whip and her mace returned to its original form, still aglow like a giant ruby. She thrusted it at the Collector and a steady surge of lighting connected to the devil’s arcane shield. Their energy clashed and the space was filled with a harsh violet light. Dismas struggled to breathe against the ferocious gale’s sudden cold while trying to dodge ricocheting bolts of lightning. Waves of tumultuous energy pushed against him, and he stumbled trying to find cover. Strong hands quickly gripped him by the arm and tugged.

“WE HAVE TO GET AWAY FROM THEM!” Musar yelled over the raging combat as he stood the thief up. Before he could respond Musar pulled Dismas close and turned them away from incoming debris. A large rock collided with Musar’s shoulder and the two crashed into the nearest wall. Still upright, the bounty hunter tried to lead them into a crevice, but the ground cracked beneath their feet and both men toppled over. Dismas quickly recovered and tried to assist Musar, but the bounty hunter winced and recoiled when the rogue grabbed his arm. Dismas crouched down, put Musar’s uninjured arm over his shoulder and helped him to his feet. They quickly ducked behind a pile of rubble as the battle intensified and turbulent magics tore the chamber apart.

“Is it broken?!” Dismas leaned in close, shouting over the maelstrom.

“No, but I don’t think it’s going to be much use right now!” Musar said loudly in the thief’s ear. The two quickly huddled together as shockwaves of force rocked the Warrens and more of the ceiling rained down. A shocking crack above them drew their attention up and they swiftly dove away from a giant loosened boulder, leaving them exposed to the clashing titans.

A powerful burst of light from their combat stunned Jinthura and the Collector and they staggered a moment. The vestalis maxima regained her focus first and leapt at her foe, blazing mace raised high. The weapon collided with the fiend’s caged skull, sparks and flames scattering all over. It raised its arms against her and they traded blows, the extraordinary energy rousing the Warrens’ denizens.

Dismas turned to Musar’s sudden yowl, a crude and filthy dagger now jutting from his already injured arm. Behind them, a tiny swine hybrid creature squealed over its shoulder and wound up to throw another dagger. Dismas closed one eye to focus against the flashing lights behind him and fired, his bullet shooting the second dagger to pieces midair. The little beast, with a tiny flag held high, dashed toward them and with his good arm, Musar scattered caltrops ahead of it. In its frenzied haste, the swine fell for the trap and stopped in its tracks, crying out in pain. The highwayman didn’t waste the opportunity and rushed to the beast, kicked away the spiked snares and stomped at the small pig beast. Dismas connected the second stomp and the little monster squealed intentionally toward the shadowy mouth of the tunnel. Dismas’ boot finally silence the tiny fiend.

The battle raged on behind Dismas but a new rumbling kept his focus toward the tenebrous exit. Suddenly a giant, malformed hand slammed down and dug its fingers into the cracking earth. Unimaginable fear challenged his mind as the giant horror heaved itself into view.

The head of a giant boar was lit up by the arcane combat nearby, its eye sockets deep and empty, skin littered with misplaced tusks, open sores, a ghoulish crown adorning its head. Dismas took a deep breath to center himself and immediately regretted it, the swine prince’s stench was indescribably foul. It hoisted itself up and exposed its open belly and a pile of sickly intestines pushed forward by its stubby, half-formed legs. It sniffed the air and groped the ground with one hand while the other dragged a gigantic clever.

Dismas raced back to Musar’s side as the giant beast found its small dead kin, frantically sniffing and shaking its limp body. The swine prince howled at the ceiling now aware of what had become of its friend, flailing madly in its grief.

Musar stood up and hoisted Dismas backward away from the swine prince’s arm, its backhand slamming against the adjacent wall, shaking more of the rocky ceiling loose. It shrieked again and this time it tried to use its massive clever against them, unawares to the limited space above its head. The grizzly weapon clashed against the upper cavern and rocks rained down on it, only feeding its frenzy.

A stray bolt of ruby lightning bounced off the wall near them and seared the side of Musar’s leg and brought the bounty hunter to his knees. Dismas’ mind raced, not sure how to escape from between these two raging battles while struggling to support Musar’s brawny physique. The swine prince’s blind rage took its toll on the tunnel’s structural integrity and a giant chunk fell flat across its back, pinning it down.

Dismas and Musar dove apart as the monstrosity’s open palm came down to flatten them. Musar mustered up all his energy and took the chance to strike. He hacked at it with his good arm and lopped off one of the beast’s three fingers. It recoiled from the strike and swung blindly, its ungodly squealing an assault on their faculties.

Finally able to wrench its other arm upward from its pinned position, the swine prince swung the cleaver diagonally at them only to get it stuck in the wall beside it. The force of the attack created an avalanche of boulders from the ceiling and Musar was quick enough to shove Dismas away from the crushing rocks, his scarf caught in the bounty hunter’s gauntlet.

“Musar!” Dismas shouted as the torrent of boulders fell between them, quickly piling up to the ceiling.

“MUSAR!” the highwayman cried out, climbing the pile of rubble now separating him from his comrade. His heart dropped and everything spun as his psyche began to unravel. Dismas turned to his remaining teammate, eyes widening with shock, his mind trying to reject what he was seeing.

The Collector, now with one less arm, had managed to shift the tide of battle. It wrenched Jinthura’s mace from her and crushed the dense metal to pieces. It backhanded her with enough strength that she bounced off the wall behind her. It followed through seamlessly and grabbed her by the throat before she could hit the ground.

Time suddenly stopped and everything moved in slow motion around him. Still gripped by the neck, Jinthura tilted her head toward Dismas and spoke directly into his mind, her voice a soothing echo.

“Do not grieve my friend, we will meet again at the Mountain, I shall find you there.” she said to him, smiling softly. With unexpected cunning, Jinthura lobbed a small crystalline phial at him while time dilated for them only. The glittering vessel clinked delicately at his feet and as he returned his gaze to Jinthura, she closed her eyes and time converged into a singular construct once more. As reality reinstated itself, the Collectors grip tightened and it jerked the vestal’s neck in an impossible direction and she went limp. A delicate thread of blue fire traced around her neck and in a sickening instant, her body fell away, leaving her head and attached spine in the fiend’s clutches.

To his horror the Collector opened its soiled robe, exposing an appalling coagulation of sundered skin and tortured faces. The Collector pushed Jinthura’s remains against its anomalous flesh and she vanished beneath the mutilated skin. The devil slowly turned to Dismas as its missing arm reformed in a flurry of azure flames. It drifted silently over the vestal’s headless body toward the thief, its skull’s blue fire now the only source of light in the darkened space. The skull twitched as it approached, the exit behind it shrinking as it slowly eclipsed Dismas’ line of sight. Dismas lifted his trembling arm and squeezed the empty pistols’ trigger over and over until the Collector was close enough to rip it from his hand. Dismas drew his blade and struggled against his enemy for a moment before the Collector easily flung that away. His breath came in small gasps, eyes shaking in his head.

It grabbed Dismas by the throat, brought him close, and somehow, he heard it inhale deeply.

“Aaaahh, the penitent thief” the Collector spoke, the grumbling hiss terrifying the thief to his core. “Chosen by the Light and touched by the Flame I see” it said, its other skeletal hand gently caressing the thief’s cheek. Dismas could barely breathe as fear burrowed deeper into his mind, the final barrier to his sanity beginning to fracture. Surely this phantasm from some inconceivable realm of abyssal horror must be a fiction, a nightmare that couldn’t be real.

The Collectors grip tightened and what felt like hands of molten lava, pulled at his spine from within. Unseen forces had reached into Dismas’ soul and every part of him felt frozen and aflame at once as a delicate thread of blue flame encircled his neck.