Chapter 23: Impostor

"The authentic self."​

While you gesture to Ofelia to sneak around and get the jump on the demon, you whisper, "it looks to be shifting between forms. Only strike it when it's assumed a solid shape. I'll give you a signal."

She nods, pulls up her hood, and silently slinks into the shadows. No motion comes from Celegwen to take out a mundane weapon. She tightens her grip on her staff, as you both wordlessly agree for her to strike at the demon when it's incorporeal.

Your long and scarred fingers tense around your mace's handle. "I'll be right behind you."

She boldly steps out— and the demon immediately charges to meet her.

"Ray! Behind me—!" Your shout grabs the demon's attention as you rush forward.

With the creature momentarily distracted, Celegwen rapidly utters an incantation. A beam of darkness discharges from the end of her staff, and nearly blasts the elf off of her feet. The shadow solidifies into a singular beam, and shoots straight through the center of the demon's immaterial form. It leaves a hole the size of your fist, but there's no smoke. The monster doesn't even scream. The interior of its body repairs itself in an instant. Tendrils of the demon's form grow out from the site of its injury. They lash wildly out from the center of its chest and instantly knit it shut.

From the central point of the demon's former injury comes a sudden streak of gray matter. There's no time to process where the solid form might be heading. You swing your shield up high, dodge to the side, and crash to the floor with a shout. As you roll, you keep your shield facing the demon, and swiftly get back to your feet.

The demon targets you once again with a colossal tether of solid static. The weapon breaks apart into five separate strands. Ray sprints off from your side with a quick gesture, as the monster tries swinging all of its weapons towards you simultaneously. Dread and elation tightens the grip on your mace. With a shout, you shift hard away from the source of the attack, and use all of your momentum to bring your mace crashing down. Bits of gray flesh fly into the air as you cleave straight through its unusual body. More of the substance sticks to flanged edges of your weapon as you rip it free.

"After me, Ray!"

Backing up as quickly as you can, you barely register your dog's growling and the gnashing of his teeth. He stays right on your heels as you break into a sprint towards the furthest edges of the room. At the same time, another outpouring of enchantments comes from Celegwen.

You whip your head around for the briefest of moments— only to see the demon in hot pursuit. It looks like it's readying an attack. Skidding to a halt, you turn on a heel to face your pursuer— and it disappears entirely from view.

You spin around, looking frantically for the attacker. The outlines of Celegwen's form are intangible. Both her voice and her body are slipping out of focus and color. "Father?!" Ray also looks distorted, and keeps his ears down as he whines. It's as if there's visual noise inside and outside of your mind while the elf shouts, "where are you?!"

Every other syllable is fuzzier than the white and gray that's taking over the library. "Celegwen?" Shield up, you retreat towards a nearby wall to grant yourself better protection.

Something— or someone— materializes next to you. It's not the demon.

It's you.

All of the color drains from your face. Panic drenches your body. The Catalyst tugs at the edges of your mind from such a sharp emotion. Trying your best to calm down is a losing battle.

It's no wonder everyone has been disturbed by your appearance. From the blood stains on his tattered clothes, to his poorly healed nose, to every last scar on his skeletal face and filthy hands, the demon looks exactly like you. He flashes a toothy grin for only a moment. Impossibly wide and bright green eyes drag over your shaking form. Only a slight smile persists as the imitator avoids eye contact, and whispers in your own soft and timid voice, "want to have some fuuun, Father?"

​

Your stomach flips. Taking hold of your holy symbol— taking care to not scratch it against your mace— you register that your own form is as intangible and grainy as the demon's. Color and form is badly obscured by the odd discoloration on and around your skin and clothing. It's even phasing your weaponry and Mercy's symbol in and out of existence.

The instant you go to raise your voice in protest, the demon calls out first. "The demon took my form! Come quickly! Now's our chance!"

Celegwen runs over immediately, staff at the ready. Ofelia is still deep in hiding. Ray keeps his ears down, and whines at both you and the demon. Your heart breaks into a hundred pieces at the sight.

Music

"Wait!" Your voice is trembling terribly as you call out to the sorceress running at you. "He's lying!"

Celegwen quickly comes to a stop. Her form bends and shifts as the demon takes a step away from you.

He looks back and forth between you two with a convincing degree of anxiety. "There's no time—!" Both of his hands are brought up as if you're about to strike him. "Stop!"

The demon takes a discreet step towards you. Ray barks hysterically at the sight, though he's completely unable to comprehend the danger that you're in. You raise both of your hands towards the demon in a defensive motion— then clasp them together in prayer.

Without wasting a second, the lunatic lunges at you. You're forced to separate your hands, but can't prevent a crash to the floor. You wrestle with each other for the briefest of moments. Every attempt he makes with bony elbows and scrawny wrists to pin or choke you is countered hard by a lifetime of training. Though you're used to pushing your form when it's this strained, the impostor clearly is not. With expert precision, you turn the demon's motions against him, and toss his emaciated form aside.

"Mercy—!"

The monster intentionally splits his lip and cheek open as he lands. Celegwen's expression is unreadable as she stands a safe distance away, and looks between the two of you. You want to puke as the demon puts a hand to the blood on his face, and mimics the hurt in your own voice. "You have to help me, please—!"

Ray's whining and growling intensifies. You want to comfort him so badly, but won't dare to let this demon out from your sight.

A dramatic show is made as he crawls towards you, and pretends to struggle as if he was badly injured. "I won't let you take my friends. I won't let you hurt anyone else!"

From your poor position on the floor, you're caught off-guard, and get tackled with all the strength the demon possesses. Before you can twist free, a pair of skeletal fingers wraps around your upper arm and wrist. A gasp escapes from your lips and drives all the air from your lungs while you're shoved over, and pinned by the demon's knees. The monster drives both bony knees deep into every protruding rib on your sides, and pulls back hard on your arm to gain further leverage. There's no moving without threatening to rip your limb out from its socket.

You grimace, try to kick up, and are met with a deeper pull on your tortured joint. While the demon's flawless disguise leans in closer— dripping his bloodied lip onto your cheek— you murmur, "she won't hurt me. You've made a terrible mistake. I have something you could never imitate."

Celegwen takes a step forward. She's clearly heard everything. Her staff remains fixed on both of you, but her eyes stay locked with your own.

To better mask his motions, the last of the distance between you and the demon closes. He pulls hard enough on your arm to nearly dislocate it.

Every attempt is made to muffle your moan in response, but neither turning towards the wooden floor, nor biting your lip makes a difference. The demon leans in even closer. His smile is audible, but his voice vacillates only within your mind. Sadism drips off of every syllable. "Freak. I'm going to do things to her you couldn't even imagine. She'll die thinking it was you."

You shoot the demon a grin with worse intent than the look he gave you moments ago.

As you start to speak again, he draws out another satisfied groan. Continuing to twist your arm, he calls out, "why are you smiling?! He's— he's doing something! Hurry, while there's still time—!"

The pain coursing through your shoulder is quickly becoming unbearable. "Mercy—"

With each step that Celegwen takes forward, the demon pulls harder on your arm. His smile fades with a glance up towards your friend. There's no seeing what expression he makes towards her.

Your bone is pulled clean out from its socket. You can't bury your face in your sleeve. The thought of touching the demon any further is utterly revolting. You scream into the open air.

"I'm sorry." The imitator's voice carries over the tail end of your agony. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry— I can't imagine what you're thinking." Your pulse is skyrocketing. The nerves around your dislocated shoulder are screaming in agony. "Please trust me. Please. You know I would never hurt anyone unless our lives were in danger. I need you to trust me. Please—"

He's rambling, and drawing out the pain, so you lean into the dislocation.

A monster looks at you wide-eyed, and legitimately terrified. His response is no act. "The demon's insane! You know I wouldn't be able to do that— please! Help!" Another secretive grin is flashed at you, while he twists your arm further. Overworked nerves tingle as permanent damage takes hold.

Your body may respond with another moan— you may writhe against the attack— but your mind is elsewhere. Your words drip with divinity as you feverishly utter a litany to Mercy. Though your voice wavers with each hitch in your breath, your intent remains steady, and methodical.

"In everlasting pain,

this mortal vessel is made fit to serve You,

behold your Father, prostrate before You,

give unto us Mercy."

"Stop." The demon sneers, and twists your arm even further.

The haze over your eyes breaks with golden light. You can only feel Mercy working through you faintly. Though She's unable to properly reach your form, the Goddess strives to heal whatever damage is within Her power. "I know you are afraid."

As he continues to twist, you let out a groan, and continue to lean into further torment. You do not fear this demon. You've felt far worse pain, and speak through gritted teeth.

"Though ceaseless,

the suffering of Our children will not go unheard,

their Mother will not turn from them, their prayers will be answered,

blessed as they are by Mercy."

The demon finally releases your arm, and screams in terror. "STOP—!"

As the monster turns to flee, Celegwen rapidly utters an incantation. She rushes forward, and is quickly followed by Ofelia and Ray. You clutch onto your arm to try and keep the loose bone steady, while watching both women pin the demon down face-first. Two daggers stick into his thin wrists. A blast of dark energy snakes around the monster's neck and legs. He doesn't drop his disguise, but instead screams in a discordant chorus with your own trembling speech.

"Unending is our torment,"

Celegwen blasts the demon straight into the same spot on its chest that she attacked before. He bleeds like a human man rightfully should— though the gore that bursts out from the attack disappears in an instant. The black hole that the sorceress created at the site of his injury takes in all blood and viscera before it can completely escape from his body.

"YOU FILTHY SLUTS! I'LL TEAR YOU ALL TO PIECES!"

Placing a hand to his chest, the demon rips out a tendril of viscera from within Celegwen's spell, and spikes it back towards the spell caster.

"Yet in the darkness, there is light,"

As the elf gracefully steps aside from the demon's attack, your other allies rush in to defend her.

"GET OFF OF ME! NO!!"

Ray rips into one of the demon's arms with teeth and hatred.

"the Father is illuminated, Her radiance indisputable,"

An arc of blood flies through the air as Ofelia repeatedly stabs him in the back.

"YOU'RE NO BETTER THAN I AM! STAY AWAY! STOP—!"

The demon's screams become entirely incoherent as he's torn to pieces. The wet sounds of the demon's broken body being eviscerated carries over Ofelia's blades singing, and the last of Celegwen's incantations.

"we bask in the light of Mercy."

Ray bounds over while they finish him off. Bright-red gore drips from his jaw as he patiently waits over you, and snarls. It's a good sign that he's not trying to drag you out from the room. The demon must have been waiting here alone.

Heat and slow healing provides just enough relief for you to speak. "It's okay, boy. I'm alright."

The sound of Ofelia and Celegwen's hard breathing registers as the world regains its normal form and proper shape. Though your senses are fried with pain, you eventually register that the demon's screaming has stopped.

After several more minutes have crawled by, Ofelia runs over, and nervously laughs at the sight of you. "That was the shittiest signal I've ever seen."

A delicate hand is extended towards you. Celegwen moves to help you stand, until she recognizes the agony still written across your face. She sheepishly looks away, and leans hard against her staff in exhaustion instead.

Your voice is distant as your senses swarm with heat. "What took you so long?"

Starlight glistens from the ends of her hair and within the depths of her eyes. She seems to be too worn out to respond. Ofelia offers some humor on her behalf. "Knife-ears can be a little slow like that. Nearly gotten me killed a few times, too— hey!"

Threat is all through the Magic still clinging to Celegwen's face, and a fist that's teasingly shaken at the halfling.

You can't reciprocate their attempts to break some of the tension, and struggle to not moan through the blazing heat in your shoulder. Mercy's light fills your senses. You've had dislocations before— especially as a child— but would rarely ask Mercy for aid through pain alone. You can't invoke Her without a purpose, and She doesn't stop the burn.

You're filled with a blend of ardor and religious devotion towards the dislocation. Leaning back against the floor, you close your eyes for just a moment. It's nearly impossible to think through the building relief. The sensation is borderline disturbing— but you can feel yourself slipping into it— wanting to ease into the pain.

Music

Your mind is adrift in a growing haze of pain and bliss. Assuming your friends can hear you, you barely speak out. "Leave me be— just for a few minutes..."

Ofelia makes a noise of concern as if she wants to protest— but you hear on softening edges of the gold in your mind that Celegwen shushes her. There's muffled footsteps as they respect your wishes, and get Ray to come along with them. It's likely that they're going to attend to the resupply that you all came back to this room for.

There's no telling how far from Mercy's light you had been taken, but She's with you now. Your heart is pounding. As you lay against the floor of the ruins, every breath heightens the heat and euphoria. It's a reminder that these are the last remains of a city built to worship your Goddess. As you walk Her path— guided on Her mission— it's even thanks to Mercy that you were so easily recognized by your friends.

You want Her praises to be heard.

There's no need for words between you and Mercy, but you pour yourself back into the litany. Inspired as you are, you begin to deviate slightly from the standard form in utter devotion to the Goddess. Each word sparks new waves of agony. Even the slightest aggravation to your injury hitches your breath.

"Immaculate is your radiance,"

Your face reddens, as the pain does not abate with Mercy's blessing. Rather, She elevates your ardor.

You know better than to question Her methods. As difficult as it is for you to relax, you try to ease yourself into the sensation, and lose yourself to it as you continue to speak.

"though men may fail to see Your light,"

The steady pace of the prayer heightens the heat flaring through you in a way that is nothing like the Catalyst. You're hardly falling to pieces or losing yourself. You feel whole. Like the hundreds of scars in your skin and cracks in your soul are being held together by Mercy.

"the Father embraces Your gifts, and sings Your praise,

Praise be unto Mercy."

Your voice drops to a murmur. The tone is far more intimate than anything you would utter within the Church, as you fail to maintain your composure.

"In everlasting love,

this mortal vessel is made fit to serve You,

behold your Father, prostrate before You,

give unto us Mercy."

Your breath catches as the tortured muscle in your shoulder spasms suddenly. You're already holding the site for support, but you're almost unable to help yourself— and dig your fingers in.

The spasm stops, but the renewed pain sparks another wave of heat and healing. Scarcely capable of speech, only one word escapes from your lips before you lose consciousness.

"M-Mercy..."