Chapter 32: The Messenger

"We have been expecting you."​

A new form of light gives you pause.

The small form of a young girl is suddenly illuminated by a soft glow across the cavern. She kneels in puddles of melted gold and grain. Stalks tumble from her face in a pale yellow light, and falls endlessly into her outstretched hands. She's in strange attire— a simple hooded robe— and makes no motion to move from her position on the floor.

​

Complete confusion and fear radiates off of your friends. They're relying on you to know how to handle this demon— but you've never seen anything like this before— and you're furious.

I just want a moment of reprieve. I was asleep for two days. What conceivable reason could there have been for a demon to find us all now?

"Stay back. Keep your guard up. Please— don't make a move towards it. She looks newborn. She might not even attack."

With their backs to you, both silhouettes of your companions silently nod.

While their weapons are out and readied, you try to scrutinize the demon's form more closely. The hood that the demon wears is nothing like Ofelia's enchanted cloak. Gold thread runs through the strange weave. Only her bare hands and feet remain exposed. Though she steadily drips with liquid gold, the metal plating her hands is completely solid. Grain fills her arms within minutes, thanks to the steady stream tumbling from the light obscuring her face.

She looks out to you all. Your breath catches in your throat.

Her radiance reminds you of Mercy.

Your heart practically stops when she speaks. An accent you've never heard tilts with longing. It's a deeper sound than anything you expected from such a small being. The familiarity of her voice has you questioning just what this creature is with every passing word.

"The Archmistress has received word of your arrival and welcomes you, Father. Welcome to the City of Lights. We have been expecting you." Questions brew between Ofelia and Celegwen. The demon casts its light over you all before fixing its gaze on your tense location. Extreme deliberation is made to not provoke an attack. You still bristle as she slowly and simply lays the grain out before her. "We offer to you this bounty, as a token of peace. The Archmistress has gifted me with the capacity to heal the pain of others. To heal your pain. We do not expect you to receive this offering, but please, do not linger. I will leave a trail back to her residence, where she would have you speak with her. She stressed to me that your need is urgent."

The small demon slowly rises and takes a step backwards. It seems like a small Mercy for her to not have visible eyes. You can feel the intensity of her gaze.

"Your friends are welcome as well, though they are not to partake of her gift."

Keeping her gaze fixed on you, the demon makes a slight bow to Ofelia and Celegwen. They're floored. Ray is unusually quiet, too. You know him well enough to tell that he's still on edge— though it's uncertain whether he's upset because of your own distress, or if there's something more here that you aren't catching.

You've never had so many questions in your life. As the demon takes a step back— moving to leave— you can't help but try to move and chase after her. A series of spasms in your uncooperative legs answers. Calling out to the demon has to suffice. "Wait—!"

She stops moving. "I have been permitted to answer one question, and to answer to the best of my abilities. One question alone. No more. The Archmistress wishes to speak with you at length. I cannot. I cannot linger." The demon's words are level as she looks to you expectantly— though you sense a great deal of strain in them.

The way each demon operates within the hierarchy varies wildly. This demon could retaliate horrifically if she's forced to speak at length. She could be beholden to a mechanism of her archdemon. She could even be trapped like the imps you saw adorned with explosive glyphs before. You tense.

Your friends are trusting you to speak— to do something in reply— but your limbs are trembling too much to even gesture for them to keep their weapons steady.

Ofelia could cut the silence with a knife. Her and Celegwen remain illuminated by the unsettling parallel to the light of Mercy.

Something is terribly wrong here. There's so much you could ask, but there is no warmth from this demon's light. No soul can be found in her words. You aren't even sure what she is. More than anything, you want to know what this creature is— and if you can trust her.

You need to choose your words carefully. All your apprehension and fear is made evident as you ask, "what is the last verse of the Litany for the Merciful?"

Litanies to the Goddess are only to be spoken of by the clergy. At least, they are today. There is no telling if this girl— this demon— will have even heard of it. If she lived in Ostedholm, she predates my city and country by an age. If this was truly a city built in Mercy's name— then there is a chance that Her litany survived through this society. I can't waste this opportunity when I can try and discern her intent. Not even if it might kill her.

Ofelia notices your distress, and how you're struggling to pull yourself upright. She moves slightly further in front of you while you brace yourself. The demon bows her head, and does something that makes every hair on your body stand on end.

She knits her hands together in prayer.

"Let us pray."

The voice that she emits is detached, discordant, and altogether inhuman. The sound grates along your mind like a knife to broken glass. You put your hands to your head as pain instantly blossoms. Celegwen drops her weapon, races to cover her ears, and cries out as she doubles over. Whimpers escape from Ray as he backs up closer to you, and looks to Ofelia for guidance. The rogue tightens her grasp on her weapon, and stands firmly in front of you all.

It's entirely unlike everything you've ever heard, and you lean into it. Intertwined with the nightmarish quality of the demon's voice is light and relief. Rather than stop the demon, you find yourself speaking along with her words as they ring out.

"Compassionate, graceful and benevolent—" Her words are heavier and more intense than anything you've ever heard a creature utter—but a thin line of pleasure works its way through the crushing sound. Clutching onto your temples, you can scarcely do anything— let alone continue to pray— as the broken litany pushes its way into your skull. "—we live to serve, to exercise that which you have taught. Look unto the works— the world that we light with blessing, that we might worthily adore. We will endure, we will restrain, we will be— worthy. Through this blessing— safeguarded from the evils of this world— may we be granted the gift of everlasting light."

The entire verse is absent of the repetitiveness that you expect and love. Choppy substitutions have been made for every mention of Mercy— leaving the structure a complete mess. Through it all, it's immediately evident that the demon has omitted the name of your Goddess. She can't even close the litany properly.

"So be it."

Radiance intermingles with a lingering headache, as the demon's light cuts into you. You don't dare to close your eyes. The sharp, metallic edges of her voice fades as quickly as its intensity came. Relief flares with each passing moment.

Ray growls at the source of your distress, but his defense only aggravates the pain in your skull. You tense even further at the sight of Ofelia going to Celegwen's side, as the elf remains curled up on the floor. "Gwen—"

Exasperated and desperate, you can't help but murmur to your uncooperative and burning legs, "Mercy, please—"

The demon passes her gaze around the cavern briefly before returning her focus to her open hands. As the gold reflects and refracts her radiance, small pearls of solid metal pools forth. A mound of morbid skipping stones congeals in each palm.

She drops one of the flat marbles to the floor. "I have answered your request to the best of my abilities. I must go. My kin will not disturb you here— if you will leave them be in turn. Do not linger. I will leave a trail as I have been instructed, though I cannot promise it will stay intact for long."

Taking a slow step backwards, the demon drops another stone. She stares at Ofelia as she does so.

The rogue glares back. Both blades she wields are slick with poison. "You fuckin' monster—"

The demon takes another slow step back. You're taken aback by how pained your plea sounds, as you clutch with trembling fingers onto Ofelia's cape. "Please." Your tremor is terrible in its intensity. "Stay your hand."

A deep sigh escapes from the rogue. Ofelia hisses through clenched teeth, "I've just about had it with these fuckers."

Their focus never parts from the other. Cautious steps are taken by the demon away from you and your friends— one stone being dropped after another— as you whisper. "Follow her, then. Get back to us as soon as you're able— at the first sign of any trouble. Don't antagonize her. Don't antagonize anyone, if you can help it." Your arm is shaking too violently. You unintentionally tug on the back of Ofelia's cloak. Lethal intent is in every inch of her small body as she whips around to see you, so you look up to her for once.

"We need to take care of ourselves."

Her face drops, and her shoulders slump in recognition of how right you are. She parts away from Celegwen's inert, curled up form. You're about to say more, but Ofelia puts away her blade and quickly embraces you. Your heart leaps to your throat as warm breath and close lips whispers in your ear.

"I won't let anythin' happen. I'll follow her, alright." Though you want to reply, your chest is so tight you can scarcely breathe. The blonde lingers and holds herself against you. It's difficult to think of why she hasn't pulled away. It's hard to think of anything. "Don't let me down, Richard. Take care of Gwen. Take care of yourself."

She still doesn't pull away. Her softness is nothing like Mercy's. The edges of her frayed cloak and blouse are painfully real. The freckles along her face blur as she leans against you. It occurs to you that you might have a heart attack or worse at the rate your pulse is going.

One thought overtakes everything else you could possibly imagine.

She's afraid of letting go.

You find your voice. It's never sounded so concerned. "Ofelia—"

She pulls back, gritting her teeth. You trail for the briefest of moments after her warmth, before conceding to leaning against Ray.

She meets your eyes. You don't look away.

"Ofelia, please— be careful. We'll meet the archdemon on our own terms. On our own time."

Light fades as the demon completely retreats. The small golden pebbles she's left behind glows faintly, and scarcely illuminates the cavern.

Ofelia turns to leave, but looks over her shoulder at you and Celegwen. It's as if she can't bear to not see you both. "Don't wait for me. We can meet halfway, or somethin'." Her terrified face begins to slip from view, but Ofelia's voice is clear. "I won't die alone down here. Come after me as soon as you can. Promise me."

You grit your teeth as well, and clutch onto Ray. "I will."