Esthergrad resembled a charnel house. Smouldering buildings and the desecrated remains of its residents were all that remained, while thick smoke chocked the night air. All around her, Calypso could see ruin and death. Unlike the poor folk of this once beautiful town, their group had pushed towards the main gate, which put them further away from the army of beasts and monsters that had brought ruin. There was only one problem – a witch. The young Hunter could sense the crone abuse her dark powers at the next street, blocking their path to the relative safety of the Wilds.

The issue was, that Calypso did not feel confident enough to confront one of their kind. She felt tired and weak after the few minutes of actual combat. It struck her how much she had relied on her spirits and with them gone, she had overexerted herself. To make matters worse, the reanimated abominations were possessed by lesser demons, which made killing them a bloody task. Not only did she have to destroy the body, but she also had to use Maeve to exercise the demon as well and poor Maeve was a healing spirit. It was Onora and Caden who were supposed to assist her in this.

Calypso looked at her new companions. They were a sorry group and the only one not bleeding was Nathaniel. Although he too was battered and bruised, he was the least prepared for such a battle, which made it a miracle that he was even breathing. Yet, the girl had to admit he looked really impressive when had rushed to aid Lord Tetradon. Sure, the boy had a lot to learn about fighting beasts, but he had a lot of potential as well.

“You must focus, kind one,” Maeve whispered in her head. She sounded distant and spent. No wonder, considering how much the Witch Hunter had tasked the poor spirit. “The tainted one is gathering the infernal ones in her shadow, looking for one with which to broker a deal.”

That was not good. If the witch was allowed to find a stronger demon, it would make it that more difficult to deal with her. Calypso had to act now or give up. She looked at the Silent Knights and in a hushed voice spoke to the Marshal.

“Lord Zan, I know you and your men are wounded and tired, but our path is blocked. A witch, somewhere behind that raw of houses. She could be alone, but I doubt it.”

“Can you take her?” Zan gestured with one hand, while the other one kept a piece of bloody cloth where the werewolf had bitten him.

“Not alone,” Calypso let out a frustrated sigh. “I can keep her busy, for a time…” She paused, understanding that she was going to ask too much. “I would need one of your men to stay behind with me, while you scape Esthergrad.”

The Marshal stood to his full height and picked up his mace and shield. Dark blood coated his shoulder and chest, but he looked as immobile as a rock. The look in his eyes was hard to misunderstand.

“No. Not you, Lord Tetradon,” the Witch Hunter spoke and placed a hand on the edge of his shield. “You are a Marshal of the Silent Knights…”

“I gave my word. It will not be you either.” His gestures were choppy and hard, his expression stern and unyielding. “Do not underestimate me, child, I’ll take you by force if I have to.”

Calypso looked at the old man with more than little confusion. True, Zan was a strong man, without doubt, but he was just a normal person. Despite the difference in weight and height and the absence of her other spirits, she was his equal. However, it was hard to tell who he had given his word to. If it was Irene Navina, well, Calypso had no clams going against her. But if it was the God-slayer, that was a different matter.

“What’s going on?” Nathaniel walked next to them. “Why did we stop?” His eyes darted from one shadow to the next and he flinched at the smallest sound. The young man was on edge and trying his best to keep a levelled head. For someone who had not gone through the arduous training of the Silent Knights or the Dusk Brigade, who fought all manner of monsters and beasts on a daily basis, this was quite the feat and a sign of incredible mental fortitude.

“There’s a witch in our path.” Calypso offered, thinking it was enough to put an end to the conversation.

“So? Let’s kill her or go around. What’s the big deal?” Nathaniel tightened his grip on the weapon in his hand and looked at both her and the Marshal.

“It’s not that simple…” The Witch Hunter wanted to return to speaking with Zan, however, the boy had different plans.

“Yes, it is. It’s always is.” He almost shouted, but restrained himself at the last moment. “There is ten of us and one of her. Besides, you are Witch Hunters and Silent Knights. If anyone has a chance to kill her, it is you people.”

“We have become too cautious. If the witch is a problem, we could try circling around through the crafter’s district to the east. But you have to admit, he has a point. We do have the numerical advantage.” Calypso translated Zan’s gestures, omitting the last part.

Now was not the time to encourage recklessness. This kind of behaviour was one of the reasons for this mess. Once it was all over, she knew that most of the blame would fall on her, and although prepared for such a development, the girl was not ready to place more deaths on her consciousness.

“Do not blame yourself, kind one,” Maeve sang. “You did nothing wrong. It is the fire in your heart that attracted the likes of Caden and Enid. It is your sense of duty that fascinated Onora. And your unrelenting nature in the face of adversity is what brought me to you.”

“Maeve…” Calypso’s thought was stopped, by her companion.

“Please, let me finish, kind one.” It felt like a gentle hand touched her cheek. “It is those qualities that feed us and help us grow stronger. If and when you go against your nature, we starve and weaken.”

There was a short pause before the spirit continued reluctantly. “Back in that place of darkness, where you spoke with the woman Irene. I was overwhelmed by the thing that lingers in her shadow. It is very old and dangerous. Yet it healed us and there was truth in its master’s words.”

“What are you saying?” Calypso was confused by this revelation and spoke aloud without realising it.

“I cannot tell you… I’m not allowed to. But know this, the one called Irene Navina was correct. I was blinded by the strive for perfection that I did not notice that our kind was enforcing stagnating.” There was something in the sprit’s song that the girl had not heard before. A yearning for something, she could not place.

“Was that not the God-slayer?” Calypso turned to the Marshal, who had a worried look on his face, feeling her anger build. “Zan, was that not Irene Nox back in the fortress?”

It was a dangerous question to ask and with grave implications, depending on the answer. No, Calypso knew what answer she wanted to hear, it was what she did not that scared her. Could she deal with it? Probably not, but she had to know the truth, otherwise, she would be trapped by indecision, questioning her every action and choice. However, the leader of the Silent Knights remained quiet and stone-faced. Instead, it was Nathaniel who answered her question.

“What the fuck is wrong with you people?” He hissed at the two of them, while the other Knights were keeping their distance, pretending to not pay attention to the exchange. “If you thought that demon was the God-slayer, you must be crazier than Irene. But you know what is the greatest mystery of all? That crazy woman is the only one that made any sense.”

Without any warning, Nathaniel jabbed his elbow in Zan’s gut and kicked Calypso’s feet forcing her to ash-covered ground. Before anyone could react, the young man sprinted to the raw of burned down houses and was lost in the thick smoke. Lord Tetradon was the first one to gather his wits and rush after him and with a string of curses, the girl jumped up and followed.

They found him a few moments later, screaming and hacking at the deformed body of a fledgeling vampire. The creature was a closer to the mindless beasts that roamed the Wilds than the nightmarish monsters Calypso was used to fighting. And the young man had clearly caught it by surprise to have overpowered it so fast. The Silent Knight’s Marshal barrelled like a bull into another of its kind as it emerged from the nearby ruins. All the commotion revealed that the creatures were forming a nest, as more and more stepped from the dust and ashes. Some wore the outfits of merchants and journeymen, their appearance not yet changed completely from when they were the human inhabitants of Esthergrad, serving as a reminded to why vampires were considered a plague. A rather powerful one must have passed through this place and could still be lingering around, as unlikely as that was.

In a few years, the town would become a den of evil, spewing all manner of monsters, if left unchecked. Calypso shuddered at the sudden realisation. It was not the death of the people that was the horrible thing to befall Esthergrad, it was what happened afterword. As things were right now, it would take a small army supported by at least a dozen Witch Hunters to deal with this situation. However, that would take time and by then, this place would fester and breed stronger and stronger monsters. Though strong and powerful, the Highguard Combine would need a decade to restore the relative safety of the region.

They had to inflict as much damage as they could while escaping, it was clear now. By accident, Nathaniel had revealed that and presented them with a good target. One vampire nest less would save hundreds of lives in the future. While the Silent Knights and the boy were busy butchering, Calypso desperately looked around to fond the witch, that had to be here. The crone had to die, everything else could wait.

There! She saw the woman hiding in the darkness of a gutted shop, madness twisted her bloodied face and foam dripped from her mouth. The witch clutched her arm, dangling from her shoulder on a few strips of flesh. Something else had gotten to her first, but that changed nothing. Calypso charged at her before she could string together her curses. The Witch Hunter had to be fast, but the distance was too long and the vile woman began drawing sigils with her blood. She needed more strength than what Maeve could offer her.

“Please,” Calypso whispered as time slowed down as her awareness reached the highest it had ever been. The sensation was new to the girl and for a second, she lost her footing on the unstable debris.

Only a few more meters and her blade would taste the tainted vitae of the witch. For all it mattered, the crone could have been on the other side of the world. The Witch Hunter saw the woman’s face twist into a murderous green as she reached the end of her spell, her hand falling like an executioner’s axe towards the sigil on the broken wooden boards beneath her.

“Maeve, please…” Calypso cried out and putting all the strength she had left into her legs.

“Forgive me, kind one,” the spirit’s hushed voice no longer resembled a song inside her head. “Remember, this our choice, as much as it is mine.”

Calypso felt her spine burn as the contract binding them faded. She was an idiot to think that any of this would have a happy ending. Such things were reserved for children’s tales. But to lose Maeve was the one thing, the young Hunter was not prepared to do. Alas, there was nothing Calypso could do about it.

At least, she could make sure that her spirit’s sacrifice was not in vain. She used the surge of power to cover the distance separating her from the witch. But the girl was a moment too late. Just as her kampilan swords pierced the soft eyes and stabbed the crone’s brain, not stopping until they pushed from the back of her skull, the witch’s hand activated the insidious spell she had prepared. Scalding flames engulfed Calypso’s face and she fell on top of the dead witch, screaming and thrashing as they seared her flesh.

Pain, like none she had felt before, was threatening to consume her when she heard a distant voice in her head. “Hurry, accept my contract, kind one.” It was Maeve’s voice. The second of respite Calypso received, felt like an eternity as her companion continued speaking with hungry words. “I can protect your sanity for so long. You must accept me.”

“Yes!” The young Witch Hunter hissed through her charcoaled lips. “I accept you!”

She felt the mark of her new contract split the skin covering her left shoulder blade. Although the flames died, Calypso could still taste the burned meat in her mouth, but that was nothing compared to the torment she had experienced.

“I can erase the pain, but the wound will remain. The mark left by the death strike of a servant of the infernal realm, cannot be removed.” An image of her ruined face floated in her mind as Maeve’s carnivorous voice echoed in her head.

It was a real mess, the right side was charred flesh, covered by a web of bright red lines and lightly glowing embers. The blackened skin emphasizing her emerald green eye. But it was the left one that caught her attention. It was red, just like her hair and it burned with hatred and anger. A moment later, Calypso realised she was not the only one to have changed. Maeve felt different as well. Her presence was thicker, stronger and hungry tendrils enveloped her soul, both feasting on and fuelling her pain.

“What… What has happened…” The young Hunter whispered and whipped the tears from her stinging cheek, smearing blood and ash on her fingers.

“I embraced change,” Maeve purred. “I’m tired and need to rest… Try to stay safe, my dear.”

Nathaniel spun on his heels and sliced at the torso of the thing that had tried to push him to the ground. Kicking it away, he recognised the bard from the inn him and Irene had stayed on the first night they arrived in Esthergrad. He recalled that the poor sod had a good voice, well, before. Right now, it was a snarling mindless beast with a second raw of sharp fangs cluttering his mouth. Now was not the time for sentiment or compassion, he reminded himself and gutted the thing like a fish, stopping before the falchion reached its ribs. Trying to cut through bones was a really bad idea and a lesson one had to learn once. Well, some people were lucky to get away with getting their weapon stuck a few more times, but Nathaniel was not sure if he wanted to push his luck.

The former sailor was aware that his survival so far resembled a miracle. Not that it would change much if he died tonight, but the young man was not ready to let go of life. He was frustrated and angry, because of how useless he felt. How could he think he could protect anyone at all? His dreams and goals were childish, Nathaniel understood this now. If he did make it out of Esthergrad, he vowed to return west, to the sea. Yes, that was a good plan, take the first boat to Cronigh and join the next expedition that tried to cross the Endless Sea. At least out there, there were no witches and armies of monsters. All Nathaniel had to worry about were pirates, avoid listening to the call of the sirens and fend off the rare mermaid assault.

Another of the damned things jumped on his back and he felt it try to bite through his chainmail shirt. Grabbing it by the shirt, Nathaniel crouched and leaned forward. This allowed him to throw it from his back and without wasting time he kicked it in the head for good measure before stabbing it in the throat. Using the momentary pause, the former sailor looked around and took stock of what was going on around him.

For every one of their group, there were four or five of the perverted creatures that used to be Esthergrad’s citizens and that was without counting the ones they had already killed. Sure, the Silent Knights were denting their numbers, but not without a cost. Without being able to form a proper wall formation, they were not as effective as they could be and already one of them was lying dead on the cobbled street. Another was missing an arm, but that did not stop him from strangling the fiend that had inflicted the wound. Closest to Nathaniel was Marshal Tetradon, who, despite his wounds, was caving the skull of every abomination that got within his reach. The hero of Scarlet Pass was going to add a new title to his impressive record if they managed to escape this place.

A strong gale of wind, carrying on it the scent of rot and decay, passed through the wide street and put an end to the melee. As one, the creatures that threatened to overwhelm them scuttered like panicked rabbits in every direction. Confused, Nathaniel did a circle, not letting his guard down. For all he knew, this could be a trap. From the corner of his eye, he noticed motion in one of the husks of the ruined buildings.

“No…” he spoke in disbelief as he watched the Calypso’s head being engulfed in bright flames. “No, no, no, no.” He continued to repeat all the way to the edge of the broken brick wall, where he stopped.

Because of actions, she was going to die. Because of his misplaced belief that everything was simple, the girl was forced to fight the witch. He had not bothered to listen to reason and ignored anything she had to say. Despite her wounds, the young Witch Hunter stood unsteadily on her feet. Her face was horribly disfigured and for some strange reason it was this Nathaniel felt the guiltiest about. His reluctance to accept the rules of the land was what had stripped this young girl of her beauty, condemning her to a life of being looked at as a freak and monster.

“Calypso… I’m…” He did not know what to say. Nothing he thought of came close to expressing how sorry he was for his actions.

“You!” She grunted and the cooked right side of her mouth split open releasing some of the heat from her mouth and revealing blacked teeth. Anything else she had to say was lost when the gutted building collapsed on top of her.

Nathaniel jumped to the say, but it was impossible to avoid all the flying debris as broken bricks and splintered wood peppered him, while a cloud of dust and mortar enveloped him. He felt a strong hand pull him from the rubble. Coughing and fighting to expel the pieces of stone and dust from his mouth, the former sailor clung to the arm that had helped him.

It took him, what felt like forever to focus his vision and ignore the ringing in his head. Lord Tetradon’s hard face was a welcomed sight, considering the alternative. Forcefully, the old man turned Nathaniel’s head to the side and pointed. Within the slowly settling cloud was the figure of a woman. Guessing that this had to be Irene, was not hard at all. If anyone was going to be involved in something like crushing through a building, it was going to be her.

“Should we… I don’t know? Help?” Nathaniel looked at the leader of the Silent Knights who shook his head and pointed at his eyes, before pointing at the figure again.

“Ok, ok. I’m looking, but at what…” the words died in his mouth as the former sailor saw what had caught the veteran warrior’s attention. “Well, shit. We are screwed, aren’t we?”

The demon that wore Irene’s skin looked worse than the abominations that had assaulted the Silent Knight’s fortress. The left side of its chest was a gaping wound as if some massive beast had taken a bite and the left arm was missing below the elbow.

“I must admit, I might have miscalculated a little.” The thing spoke in a voice that resembled iron nails being dragged over a stone wall. Its laughter equally disturbing, the demon began to dissolve into the darkness. “You lot, better find a hole to hide in. Things will get ugly when she arrives.” Shedding its skin, it plunged into the cloud, leaving them with only inhuman roars and snarls with which to guess what was going on.

The witch was strong. Irene could not deny that, but there were also a lot of weaknesses that could be exploited. Like most of her kind, she relied too much on the beasts and demons that served her, to protect her from anyone who got too close. It was because of this Irene had learned to fight, or at least that’s what she believed was the reason. Arranging the puzzle that was her past, allowed for a great deal of interpretation.

That said, this was not going to an easy fight. Her companion was drawing more power than he was siphoning her way. In any other case, she was going to be furious and planning an appropriate punishment. But not this time. After all, this was the price the two of them had paid for removing the smaller obstacles in their way. However, this meant that she could not use her craft to counter the spells coming her way. Some perhaps, but not all of them. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing; she had learned a lot in the decades pretending to be a Witch Hunter.

“Yes, continue speaking,” Irene grinned and jumped into the circle of power the witch was preparing, disruption the spell before it could form. “I recognise that language, but it will take me a little longer to remember to understand it.”

This drove the woman into a rage and screamed what had to be profanities at Irene. However, she failed to notice the curse mixed into them. The first sign that something was wrong was when her vision blurred and she lost her balance. It was a simple disorientation curse, yet very effective when used at the right time. And it allowed the witch to prepare his next attack without being harassed. Irene felt the ghost hounds bite at her arms and legs. With a scream born of anger, she lunged at the woman and pierced her heart with the great sword in her hands.

“Shit!” The Witch Hunter cursed as her opponent turned into ash. The bitch had made a puppet, while Irene had been disorientated. “Hide all you like; I will find you.”

The time for playing games was over. She had underestimated the witch and expanded too much of her strength and power in an attempt to satisfy her need to prolong the engagement. Too late Irene realised it had been years since she had faced a real challenge. In that time, she had become overconfident and reckless. No, that was wrong. Irene Navina had always been this way, but as of late, she had been too bored to take anything seriously.

She had to focus. Deal with the simple things first. Yes, that was it, following the basic rules, they were the foundation of every great affliction, curse, hex and spell. The connection she shared with her companion was similar and she needed to exploit this to her advantage. Irene closed her eyes and reduced the flow of power between them. The damned demon had been gathering strength for years and would not starve if cut off for a few minutes.

Getting rid of the curse was a child’s play. However, the hounds a bit trickier. The Witch Hunter placed a simple enchantment on her vision that would allow her to see the irritating pest, just as one of them tore her left arm from the elbow. That would not do. Quickly and without hesitation, Irene relocated the injury towards her companion and kicked the pesky mutt. Now that she could see the ghost hounds, she exploded in a hurricane of death. Slicing and kicking, all fore of the damned beasts were sent back to the hellish domain they came from within a handful of heartbeats.

Next was locating the witch. Following her scent was disappointingly simple. The idiot had not bothered hiding her trail, instead, she had rushed to seek shelter behind her own demon. While sprinting towards her, Irene noticed that the woman was preparing something nasty and most likely very dangerous. Any hex that required a fair amount of preparation was not a good one. And in the hands of a skilled witch, a handful of seconds were a lot of time.

Vaulting through the wrecked houses, Irene landed a few meters from her quarry. She was greeted by writhing mess of shadows and darkness as the two demons fought in a way that only their kind could. A part of her curious was curious to know what was going in that chaotic mess, just as much as she never wanted to find out.

A predatory smile formed on her lips when she noticed the witch rushing through her spell when she saw Irene. Who cares if it was a mistake? She was going to enjoy every moment of this. Throwing caution to the wind, Irene walked through the two battling demons.

“I’ll tear your wings, annoying fly,” she sang softly, “and watch you scream, while you tell me all I want to know and learn. Beg, bribe and threaten. Nothing is going to stay my hand.”

Submitting to the entity in her blade, the Witch Hunter felt fresh power stream through her. Everything the witch threw at her, broke at the protection the thing provided. And although Irene noticed that it was more vicious than usual, she did not care. Fun first, answers later. A blood-chilling scream came from the writhing mess and the shadows around her receded. It was enough to break her concentration and the tempting whispers of her weapon went silent. This allowed the witch to unleash the hex she had been preparing.

The surge of power Irene felt, was a warning too late. Her heart imploded inside her chest. With the last of her breath, she sacrificed a portion of her soul to buy a few more moments. Irene launched at the stunned witch, ramming the great sword through her right breast.

“We are both to blame for this outcome.” Her companion whispered in her head. His voice, tired and fading. “We allowed hubris to dictate our actions. My dear, for the first time, I’m not sure if you will recover from this…”

While her mind was slowly engulfed by darkness, Irene heard the witch’s last words, before infernal flames consumed her body.

“Curse you… Alice…”