People died one way or another, it was as simple as that. The Wilds always took their due uncaring about how much an individual struggled to build a decent life for themselves. Irene had made her peace with that for as long as she could remember. The fact that Esthergrad was slowly being snuffed, was merely a footnote in the history of the world. Another town would rise to dominate the region, and like the ones before it, just like this one, it too would meet its end one day.

The funeral song Irene was whistling, common to the Osmund Islands off the coast, seemed appropriate to mark the death of this place. And in all honesty, she did enjoy the tune. It had a nice ring to it. Her great sword resting on her shoulder, the Witch Hunter walked the tight streets, unperturbed by the scenes of carnage and the hunting beasts. She could try and save the few survivors, but that would be only delaying the inevitable. At the moment there was nowhere safe they could go, just as staying with the Witch Hunter would hinder her. No, Irene had a different prey she was interested in.

A lone witch, hiding in the shadow of the building around the corner. She could sense the child’s wild fear and uncontrolled use of enchantments and hexes with which to regain control. While her companion was busy entertaining himself, the Witch Hunter could do the same. Sooner or later, he would call for her or she would find him. Closing her eyes, she exhaled slowly, enjoying every moment of the freedom she experienced.

When was the last time she could ignore her secrets, the falsities and lies that had become her second nature? At present, she had no fears that her goal was a foolish dream. There were no unspoken desires that perhaps she was wrong to search for her past. Right now, there was only bliss. Irene stopped a few steps from the corner of the building, a single name coming to her mind – Uther. That was right, it was right before their fight, she had felt like this.

A man with unmatched power and ambition. A man of vision and determination. Yet, he was an idiot. Things would have gone far smoother if only had kept his word. Instead, the bastard used her and her skills to ascend to godhood. It was Uther who forced her hand, contrary to the stories that roamed the lands. But, no one would never know about the truth. Let them think that unknown Witch Hunter Irene Nox, went after the Witch God to avenge some unimportant place. It was her revenge for scorning her, because in her own way she had loved Uther.

Irene giggled. Her mind had wandered into some strange places without the constant presence of her companion and constant comments. However, she was not alone in her head. Actually, she doubted such a thing would ever come to pass. No, her companion’s poisoned words, were replaced by the tainted promises and sweet threats of the thing which resided in her blade. For some reason, it was more active than usual. Like her, it was anticipating something of importance. Whoever it was that had used her sigil to create the curse used on that girl, had triggered a spark of life within the dark entity. And although satisfying its needs was fairly simple, it was quite the glutton. Not even Uther’s soul was enough to satiate its appetite.

“Soon, my darling,” Irene whispered and swung the blade at the thickening smoke. “First, I must take care of the nuisance that lurks within her shadow.” Gently she slid her finger on the sharp edge, producing a single droplet of bright red blood.

With careful and measured motions, she drew a sigil in the air. Satisfied with her work, the Witch Hunter smiled and licked the wound. There was no need to rush, she could take her time and enjoy what was to come. The girl skulking in the shadows must have felt the spell and at by now, she should be panicking. Most likely, her contracted demon would be warning her to run, but she would hesitate, thinking there was something she could do.

Irene sensed the power gather within the witch and released her own spell, binding the demon to the woman’s shadow. This way, the thing would not interrupt her fun. Oh, and she was really going to enjoy this. Her whistling became loader and slowly she walked towards the corner. Only one thing was left before she allowed the witch to see her. Which face should she use? The one of Irene Navina? Or that of the God-slayer? Not that there was much of a difference between those two, but people always seemed to notice the slight discrepancies. Perhaps she could drop the mask altogether and use her face for a change. It has been too long since she had been herself.

A single thought was all it took for the imperfections and scars to disappear. With the next one, her lips turned luscious and her cheeks softened. Another one and her haired was no longer platinum, instead, it darkened, taking the colour of fresh autumn straw. Only her eyes remained as glistening golden jewels. Deep down she remembered that once, they were soft green and full of life and wonder. But alas, they were lost for a reason she could not remember. No matter how hard she tried, her options were either those cursed yellow orbs, that looked at the world with displeasure or the damned bored emerald green of the bigoted Witch Hunters.

Irene looked at her reflection in the broken window of the house as she passed by it. Just like the cracked glass, she felt her true self was shattering, replaced the personas she had crafted over the decades. This feeling cut her heart and she swallowed back the pain it had caused; a single tear of blood rolled from her eyes and marred her porcelain skin. It was all their fault, witches, humans, hunters, all played with powers they did not understand. They were equally to blame. Because of their arrogance and hubris, she had lost everything and was cursed to wander aimlessly this bleak world. All sensations and emotions experienced a hundred times over, leaving her heart and soul empty and indifferent.

She saw the witch huddled down, desperately trying to craft a protection spell with which to counter the hex placed on her demon. Her pathetic attempts to struggle were amusing in how sad they were. The witches of this age were a shadow of the frightening monsters they once used to be. Though, Irene was to blame for this. After all, she had killed the best of them in her hunt for Uther’s life. However, she had to also admit that they were slowly regaining their former glory. But that was just it, they were doing it painfully slowly.

“Are you lost, little bird?” Irene’s soft voice startled the crying girl.

“No!” Her scream died a moment later when she looked at the woman looming in front of her. “Thank the five! I thought you were a Hunter… Please, help me, sister.”

“Do not be frightened, little bird, I’ll free you from your cage.” The great sword plunged into the witch’s shadow and the runes carved on it burned and moaned as they devoured the demon locked within it. “I hope your soul is as dark as the thing you called companion.”

With finality, the blade dropped and cut the stunned girl’s hands. Then her legs and slowly Irene carved her sigil into the mewing creature’s chest, draining her life one cut at a time. Her screams were like a mother’s song to her ears.

“You done?” The demon’s voice resonated in her head. “You do realise you have violated your contract.”

“Shit…” Irene cursed as the fog clouding her mind. Every single time she allowed the blade to take control when it awoke. She had nothing to gain from this torture and so with a single swing, the Witch Hunter decapitated the poor witch. “I…”

“You what? Lost control? Did not ignore the whispers?” Her companion laughed. “Don’t bother to use the same excuse. I’ve heard it before. And as before, I’ll deal with you once we are done here.”

Whatever punishment, the thing had in store, would be a pain to deal with. Killing her was going to be a part of it, but there was always something else. The last time, her companion has destroyed her entire stash of Bailen bark cigarettes. And before that, it replaced every drink she tried to have with water, for a full year.

The issue was that once the initial assault on her mind was over, it was easy to ignore and push back the entity trapped in the weapon. Each time, Irene hoped it would be different, but time and time again, she failed. There had to be a reason because her companion had made it damn clear that resting was part of her contract. Just as it was forced to always pull her back if she failed.

“How far did you go?” The thing asked, taking pleasure in tormenting her. She could lie, but it would find out the truth once it returned to feed.

“I dropped the mask…” Irene looked at her reflection in the pool of blood at her feet. “It hurt… more than usual.” Admitting this was not something she enjoyed, but sadly, the demon was the only one who could understand her.

“Only that? Cheer up, my dear. I have something interesting to share with you. Can you guess?”

“Spill it out.” She demanded, knowing that the thing will play its game regardless of her desires. “Did you find the one leading this rabble?”

“That too, but I have something better – a name.” Her companion sounded very amused by how witty it thought its remark was. “Arthur.”

“What about it?” Irene sighed and pondered if she should return her appearance back to that of Navina. Maybe she was overdue some change.

“I thought it would trigger a memory or something like that. Oh well.” If she had suffered brain damage, perhaps the Witch Hunter might have thought the thing sounded genuinely disappointed. “It was the owner of your weapon. At least that’s as what our prey saw it. Arthur’s sword.” It mimicked the witch’s voice perfectly.

“Alas, that is all,” the thing continued. “I’ll play with her and the treats at her side. But, my dear, you better hurry. I’m not sure how long I can restrain myself. Her essence is making me hungry.”

Tears clouded her vision, while Amberly tried to get up. Getting thrown into a brick wall was less painful than expected. However, the jutting bones on her left forearm played a big role in that. The demon was very fast and strong. In a few steps, it had reached her and snapped the limb like dried wood, before kicking her in the gut. At least she was fairing better than Cecilia. The woman had both of her ankles severed by the two-handed sword in the demon’s hands.

Well, as long as that monster was busy torturing her, it gave Amberly precious moments to act. The issue was, she had nothing to use against it. Her training was focused on prolonged afflictions, and although deadly, they took too long to produce results. It was a good strategy to remain hidden, but it was a huge problem in a situation such as this one. Instead, she focused on her arm and used the last of her companion’s strength to stop the bleeding. Properly fixing the bones was out of the question. Such a spell would require a sacrifice and there were none available. However, not bleeding to death was a good start. Now all she had to do was figure how to escape.

A glance was enough to tell the young witch that Margo was busy preparing a hex to use against the demon. Well, she could sort this mess on her own and if she survived, then Amberly would think of an excuse why she ran of. Which was easier said than done, she was at her limit. All of her power was used to protect her in the demon’s initial attack. A mistake for sure, since like all of its kind the thing was going to take its time killing them, but that was a risk, she was not prepared to take.

Amberly required a new contract. The irony of this did not escape her. This place was teeming with the servants of the infernal realm, but not a single one dared come near. In their place, she would do the same, because to sign a contract now was a suicide. Nonetheless, it did not stop her from reaching out offering an unfavourable deal just for little help.

“Cowards…” The young witch cried in desperation.

“That they are,” the demon whispered in her ear. “Such fearless torturers, but do you see them now?” Its laughed spread through her like cold fingers, tightening around her heart. “Meek, toothless weaklings. Do not worry, little treat, I will be with you shortly.”

“No!” Amberly hissed through her clenched teeth. “The words of demons are poison that breeds fear. Fear is the killer of hope and leads to damnation…” She topped half-through the mantra her former covenant had taught her. It did nothing to lift the hopelessness she felt.

“Bullshit… What idiot came up with that crap…” Her impotent scream of anguish achieved nothing but to dampen her mood further. Please! I don’t want to die…”

Amberly was on the verge of breaking completely. The rational part of her knew that these emotions served as fuel for that damned thing. Her strongest weapon was to try and starve it, by getting a grip on herself.

“Really, fucking simple,” the girl cursed and forced her body to move. “I bet they’ve never faced one that could remain in physical form for over a minute.”

“I like you.” The thing was standing a step away, its arm outstretched in an offer to help her stand up. As if she would take it. It would be safer to place her hand between the jaws of a rabid starved werewolf. “You plunge into the depths of darkness and then push back up at the flip of a coin.”

At that moment the left half of the demon’s chest exploded, showering Amberly with chunks of meat and bone. Curiously the thing touched the remains of its shattered ribs before exploring the ruined mess of its lung. Dark lumpy blood dropped like tar from the gruesome wound and it chuckled.

“My love, you pierce my heart. Too bad, I do not have one.” The thing smiled wickedly and turned to face Margo.

Her left hand tightened into a fist, realising a second hex, while her right danced to form a third. Bright blue flames engulfed the demon, but as soon as they materialised, they died down. Eldritch marks glowed on the thing’s cracked skin, while black smoke formed around its fingers. Thin strings pierced the earth and the ancient witch dropped to one knee with a stifled scream of pain.

“This is how it’s done.” With a flick of its hand, the strings snapped and Margo fell to the ground clutching her chest. “You should call your pet. In the meantime, be a good girl and wait your turn.”

Amberly knew she was trembling, but all she felt was numbness. This was not a good sign. Her mind was empty and her thoughts were calm. All she wanted to do was to laugh. If a powerful ancient witch such as Margo could do nothing against this monster, then what chance did a mere novice stood? The girl knew that one day she would die, but not even in her wildest dreams did she imagined such an end.

“Oh! Don’t do this. Don’t give up. It’s no fun if you do.” The demon crouched to look directly into Amberly’s eyes. “I told you I liked you and you begged for a contract.”

It reached into the open cavity of its chest and removed a piece of dried meat from within. A piece of its shrivelled dark heart, the young witch realised. But that was insane, demons followed very strict rules and once bound by a contract, they could only sign a new one once the original holder was dead. For this one to remain corporeal, its master was very much leaving and breathing. This was absurd. Nothing made sense anymore and Amberly was almost certain she was having a horrible nightmare. Yes, that was it. This was just a bad dream, a prank conjured by her new sisters. A moment longer and she would wake up back in the covenant house.

“Arkwar Luur, my kin. Hear my voice and listen well.” The demon’s guttural language, made Amberly’s ears bleed and she felt nauseated at the gathered power around them. “I ask for one of your devourers, for finally there is a suitable host to share the feasts of the mortal realm with.”

A worm, pregnant with green puss, burrowed its way from the desiccated chunk of heart. With a smile, the demon plucked it and placed it in its mouth. Amberly wanted to vomit as she felt it slide down her throat when the monster kissed her.

“I expect great things from you, young one.” The demon gave her another gentle kiss and stood up. It stretched its arms like a cat, spilling large lumps of blood on the ground as it spoke. “You took your sweet time, my dear.”

Amberley saw a woman appear from the smoke that choked the wide street. She was wrong, this was not the God-slayer. This Witch Hunter looked like her, but it was not the same person. No! What was she thinking? She was not a Hunter. She was a witch, dressed as one of their enemies. The powers of the infernal realm gathered like mist around her. This was not right, Amberly could sense when a spell was being prepared, especially when it was a sting one, but she could not see the currents power. Very few could.

“Surprised?” The demon smiled. “You offered everything for mere salvation. Did you think no one was listening? I suggest you run.”

“Is that the one?” The woman asked looking at the young witch.

“Nope. This one is just leaving. Your prey is over there. Have fun, while I entertain myself with her pet.” No sooner had the word’s left the monster’s mouth than a dark shadow collided with it, crushing into the burned building that has stopped Amberley’s flight.

“Zaar! Kill it!” Margo screamed, finally recovered from the demon’s attack. “You,” she pointed at the newcomer, rage and madness warring in her voice, “look exactly like her! From the grave she spites me! I will enjoy every last moment of torturing you!”

This was the perfect opportunity for Amberly to flee and she did not waste it. With everyone’s attention focused elsewhere, she wouldn’t get another chance to save her skin. When the outcome of this fight becomes clear and the dust settled, she would deal with appeasing Margo or run for the depths of the Wilds, accordingly.