Three weeks later, past midnight at the village of Wintervale…

Life was going by for Sister Alyssa, almost like a dream. Days passed in what seemed like a blink of an eye. It was, for the most part, the same routine, rituals and duties she had been so used to back at the Ancient Cathedral. The same prayers and weekly services held for the many citizens of Arcadia who lived here in acceptance of Elicia’s Law, carried out with Father Edwards and the other devatas. Charity and faithful service, as was expected of those in service of the Ecclesiarch’s Central Church.

Everything was going along very well. That, she could feel in her heart even if she remembered so well her oath to serve humbly and honourably in Elicia’s name. By now, she knew her fellow Sisters on a first-name basis – Clara, Belle, Arete, and Janice. And of Father Edwards, of his most charming visage that left her breathless at the sight of his warm smile. Thanks to him, thanks to everyone in the abbey, the villagers had warmed up to her slowly but surely. One of them had even approached her for healing during last week’s service. As did another for her blessings, followed up by so many more.

It was, in a way, almost as though the shape of her ears no longer mattered. Life was, indeed, as Father Edwards had promised that fateful day at the village gates. That in time, all would be well in the world with enough hard work and faith. And yet, she remembered so vividly the madman and his words.

“The prophecy… fulfilled.”

She uttered those words to herself out loud, her voice little more than a whisper as she made her way through the markets under the pale light of the winter moon, walking past the dim streetlights powered by smouldering crystals imbued with lesser fire magic. With both hands, she clutched tightly a paper bag holding a bottle of wine and a corkscrew she had purchased the morning prior at the inn, an offering of peace prepared so carefully for what she was about to do. There were bottles just like this one in the cellar, she had heard from Sister Belle. And she had hoped to take one, but that one place underneath the abbey was locked and strictly off-limits.

The madman’s abode was just a few steps away now, here in the cold dark amidst scurrying mice and piles of refuse. Here, in this alleyway down by the side of the gift shop she recalled to have those colourful postcards that she had purchased to write to her friends back home. At least, according to the villagers she had asked in idle conversation. They complained about him all the time, about his odour and how he would steal food from the markets. And they complained too, of how the guards would do nothing about it.

If everyone was to be believed, he was a drunkard, a thief and a liar. A madman perhaps, lost to the dark corners of the earth. And yet, despite doing her best to think of other things over the past few weeks, she could not forget the intensity of his gaze, his anger and his hate. That, and so many other things such as the way he had reacted at the sight of Father Edwards adjusting his spectacles, as well as the words he uttered with such lucidity despite his apparent madness, had left her thinking. Made her sneak out of the abbey long past curfew, disobeying Father Edwards despite what she felt so strongly of him deep within her heart.

And so, she was here. Even if it was, by all means, a lost cause. Even if it was against everyone’s wishes, be it for her sake or theirs. The prophecy had to be fulfilled, if only for a little peace of mind.

“You…!”

The sound of a man’s voice rasped forth from the shadows, alongside the stench of stale alcohol assaulting her senses. Covering her mouth quickly, Sister Alyssa stifled a gasp, the tips of her elvish ears twitching upon her hood as she watched the madman wretched form emerge slowly but surely from the darkness of the alley ahead.

“You’re still safe… he hasn’t made his move… I’m so glad…”

Remaining silent as he spoke, Sister Alyssa stood still, unsure of what to say or do as she looked into the madman’s red eyes, at the tears glistening within. His stench was overpowering, and the dull gleam of those daggers stabbed upon his back remained so clear in sight as he drew closer, pausing only to look down towards the paper bag held in her hands.

“Is that… for me? I can smell it in there. I have a whole cellar of this back home… it’s been so long since I’ve been there, or had…”

“Yes, it’s for you!” Sister Alyssa said with a smile, removing the wine bottle from the paper bag. “I, um… was worried that we weren’t properly introduced. I know my ears tend to give people a bad impression, but…”

The madman gently placed his hands upon her arms. They were caked in frost, and his touch stung coldly upon the sleeves of her holy robes. But not as much when she looked at him, at the sad smile forming upon his dried lips.

“I would never be angry with you, Your Highness…”

Sister Alyssa took a step back and nearly dropped the bottle upon the floor.

“Huh?”

“It was his plan all along…” the madman uttered, ignoring her as his voice turned to a sinister, almost fearful rasp. “To lure a child of Abaddon’s lineage here, to bring forth once more… the Hellbringer.”

“Hell… bringer?”

“Yes. The sceptre of the Hellbourne…” the madman answered, shuddering as he spoke. “That which shall act as a beacon renewed for the hordes of the Daemonlord…”

He then looked into Sister Alyssa’s purple eyes, utter terror apparent upon his unkempt features as his red eyes widened.

“Aria… she who is mistress of your great, great, great-grandfather! Lord of the Corruption of Melodia! She who is enemy of the Daemonlord Elicia, master of the Hellbourne…”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sister Alyssa stated with a frown. “There are no Hellbourne here. I think you’re ill, you probably need…”

With a quick and sudden burst of fury, the madman shook her violently as he gazed into her purple eyes with insane delirium far unlike anything she had ever seen from him prior. The bottle of wine fell from her hands, shattering loudly into glass shards and spilled liquid upon the snow around their feet.

“Stop this, please! What are you…”

“You… don’t believe me? It doesn’t matter!” the madman roared. “Your Highness… you must get out of here, right now! You might think me mad, you might trust him, but no matter what you do, DON’T return to the abbey! You mustn’t let him make you a tool of the Hell…”

He suddenly stopped mid-sentence, grasping at his throat as a mass of writhing and shadowy tendrils sprung forth from the snow beneath him like an all-consuming darkness, ensnaring themselves upon his neck.

“You must… leave me… leave this place…”

“No! I can…”

Taking a step back from the darkened alley with her back towards the smouldering lights of the street beyond as tears of blood trickled down from her eyes, Sister Alyssa stuck out her palm and willed forth her sigil in a burst of purple light with lines forming the likeliness of a holy sceptre. As she envisioned within her mind the scriptures of the Central Church and of beloved Elicia, and the years spent in the Ancient Cathedral learning how to will forth miracles to heal and protect, her sigil took on a golden hue that sent forth a light to subsume the encroaching darkness consuming the madman.

“I can handle this, I…”

As she channelled her spell, the dark tendrils melted away from the madman, bit by bit. Retreating down, to whatever foulness had spawned them. But all of a sudden, a burst of magical energy shot forth with renewed strength, a burning force that pushed her to the side while it consumed the madman’s wretched form in a blazing inferno that left him screaming in agony as flames materialised all over his body, rapidly incinerating his flesh and bones into nothing more than a charred corpse upon the melted snow.

“No…” Sister Alyssa gasped. “No…!”

“Truly, a shame it had to come to this, ‘Sister’,” a voice most familiar called out from behind her, with words laced with venom she could feel slithering so coldly upon her skin. “I wanted him to suffer and die slowly with that other spell. A shame the magics of the Central Church don’t afford such luxury to me.”

“That voice…!”

With a hand pressed against the wall to support her legs and back still aching, Sister Alyssa turned around. With her heart skipping a beat in shock, her purple eyes widened in horror at the sight of Father Edwards standing just a few steps away with bloodstains upon his face.

“Father… that fire spell, it can’t be…”

“Father Edwards?” the man she knew all this time as Father Edwards questioned mockingly with a smirk. “He’s a resilient one even compared to his fellow devatas, I’ll give you that. He survived the stocks and the icy waters. Even the daggers I had so enthusiastically stabbed into his back that day at the abbey.”

As Sister Alyssa watched on in silent horror, he pointed a finger towards the charred corpse, glancing briefly at it like it was nothing more than a pile of rubbish upon the snow to be cleaned up.

“He wasn’t about to die anytime soon, that Codex-thumping bastard. I wanted him to live after so many failed attempts to end him. That he’d behold the full weight of my ambition. Shame that he couldn’t just keep his mouth shut, you know? That I would have to shut it for him, and do this.”

“How did you know…” Sister Alyssa demanded. “That…”

“That you were here, sneaking out past curfew?” Father Edwards asked rhetorically. “I have my minions watching you constantly. ‘Sister Clara’ spotted you on the way out. But even so, they tell me you are very predictable. Stupid, possibly. That an elf can ever fathom the thought of claiming communion with the god of mankind! Madness.”

“No way, the entire abbey…”

“But perhaps you’d like to meet the real Sister Clara? They’re all waiting for you within the cellar. Assuming of course, the rats haven’t gotten to them yet. It’s a shame, though. I liked you, even if you’re an idiot.”

“Just who are you?” Sister Alyssa demanded. “If you’re not Father Edwards…”

Father Edwards laughed.

“I AM Father Edwards now, you fool! Especially now that he’s dead like he should’ve been so long ago. What I am, who I was, no longer matters. His name grew on me like a bad habit, in a way!”

“You’re out of your mind, whoever or whatever you are!” Sister Alyssa retorted angrily, tears of blood flowing down her eyes anew as she brandished her sigil, its lines burning hot with holy fire. “You’re not Father Edwards, and I’m going to stop you, right here and now!”

The man who called himself Father Edwards smiled as he lowered his voice to a careful whisper.

“Are you, now? I know of the spell you’re about to bring forth. You’re going to endanger the village, and the people who you worked so hard for so that they’d even care to look you in the eye? Look at them now, coming out of their homes to condemn the elven witch.”

“No way you’d actually…”

“Go on, incinerate them all with the holy wrath of the Central Church. If, you dare.”

Sister Alyssa stood her ground and frowned, the holy fire burning upon her sigil petering out as she eyed the approaching townsfolk, her hand trembling as she did. For indeed, they were gathering behind the imposter in their nightgowns and bedclothes, and she could hear them whispering worriedly as she watched two Lightsworn guardsmen walk up to her with manacles in hand.

“You’re under arrest, witch!” Father Edwards proclaimed loudly, such that the villagers could hear every word. “For the murder of this innocent beggar, you shall be brought back to the abbey and tried for excommunication as per the tenets set by the Covenant of the Faithful.”

“What?” Sister Alyssa exclaimed, her eyes widening as the Lightsworn guardsmen clasped their manacles upon her wrists. “Everyone, you’re being lied to! This man isn’t Father Edwards! He’s a murderer, he…”

“He is our master,” one of the Lightsworn guardsmen remarked, his words soft like a sinister whisper as he and his colleague restrained her. “And you are what he needs.”

“Impossible… even the guardsmen…”

“The Hellbringer shall be forged anew…” Father Edwards whispered softly into Sister Alyssa's ear as he placed a gag upon her mouth, before signalling for his minions to take her back to the abbey. “Just in time for the Harvest Festival, I might add. There will be a harvest indeed… something different from yearly tradition…”

Dutifully, without knowing better, the villagers parted way for the Lightsworn guardsmen as they hauled Sister Alyssa towards the village abbey. It was, after all, accepted as per the Covenant of the Faithful within Elicia’s Law that any devata facing charges of heresy or criminality would face judgement directly from the Central Church. And as she watched the man she thought all this time to be Father Edwards address the villagers with his lies and honeyed words of reassurance to soothe their fears of the witch he had just apprehended, she felt tears well up in her eyes.

Truly, was this the prophecy fulfilled? That, Sister Alyssa could only wonder in despair for what awaited her in the cellar.