Delirium and nightmares. The blighted, feverish reality felt like an eternity, yet went by like the blink of an eye. It was the same repeated nightmare. A brown-haired boy, no more than five winters, stood in the darkness surrounded by blood that was not his. Coal-dark claws fused with his finger-tips, his face contorting in an insane smile. Iron dust twisted around him like serpents flying on invisible winds.

Behind the boy, there was the Red Dragon. The mythical overlord of the Nine Hells. The one lacquered in chains that would chain down all sinners with himself. Or so Orianthy said.

The iron dust transformed into chains. Serpentine dust became denser until it was solid, surrounding the brown-haired child in pitch-black chains. He looked like a chained hound waiting to be released. He wanted nothing more than to rend flesh from bone, burn everything to cinders, and start again. A dark Phoenix waiting to be reborn not from his, but from the ashes of others.

Eiden felt a tug on his consciousness, and he was happy to follow it. Anything to get out of this nightmare. Anything. Eiden thought.

"Wake up," said an old and fierce voice, "Boy, wake up."

Eiden sat up, slowly blinking his eyes and looking around for the voice. He was still in the tunnels underneath Arvenpyre, but not in his home. No, he would never be home again. White marble and black shadows flickered beneath a floating ball of light. In front of Eiden sat a grey-haired man with a ball of light hovering over his shoulder. The man was athletic-looking but also wiry, his frame having no fat, only lean muscle. The old man had the look of an itinerant: scruffy beard, unkempt greying hair, and fierce eyes. He had a long black coat made of leather, looking lavish and expensive with a strange metal container at his side. The peculiar contraption looked like a bucket with a lid, having metal clamps locking whatever contents that laid within.

"Your friends are dead." Said the stranger in a somber yet unwavering voice, "And so is the monster. It won't bring back your friends, but at least it's dead."

The man had practice. The only emotion present came from his voice. His face was expressionless as if everything that had happened was commonplace. It was like someone just threw a boulder into a calm pond, and its surface continued to be placid with only the barest hint of change.

Eiden's world came crumbling down.

A feeling bubbled beneath Eiden as he stared at the hovering ball of light. He wasn't sure if it was grief, sorrow, or anger. Or all of them together. He felt overwhelmed and numb at the same time. Bloody hells. I'm going insane, aren't I? This can't be happening. No. Lisa and Bert. No. No. No...

"How," Said Eiden. "How'd you kill it?" Eiden was surprised by his own voice, not expecting to have said anything at all. His voice broke a little but was otherwise monotone and infused with an eerie calm.

The stranger nodded to his right, where a sword laid against the cold wall.

It was the most beautiful blade Eiden ever saw. Its length was long. What did they call it again? A bastard sword? It had a silvery edge that met with a darker middle section. Runes were etched on the dark center. Eiden didn't understand any of them. The scratches made upon its surface were simple yet elegant. Black leather wrapped around the handle, which met with a crossguard made of twisted metal that looked like the roots of an old oak forged from steel. Towards the end of the sword was a simple round pommel with a single rune etched on its surface.

The strangest part of the blade was the ominous feeling that washed over Eiden. It felt… Alive. Eiden felt a part of himself reach for the sword. It wasn't physical. It was more of a mental questing than anything else, like his spirit was reaching out.

"An Oathbinder." said the stranger, taking Eiden out of his enchanted state. "Beautiful ain't it? It's what every exorcist has in their arsenal. A hand-and-a-half sword with a steel core and meteorite-silver edge. Her name's Bastille."

It's beautiful, but also dangerous. It feels like that thing could cut me from over there.

"Yes. It's beautiful, but..." said Eiden. "Is it. Uh. I don't know how to ask this, but is it alive?"

The Exorcist lifted up a brow, eyes narrowing in intrigue. A smile crept up on the corners of his mouth.

"Yes. In a way, it is," Said the Exorcist.

Eiden felt a tug at his being. The connection was external in origin, and since there was no one except the stranger in front of him, it had to be coming from the Exorcist. Eiden squirmed backward, uncomfortable from the feeling of eyes crawling along his skin like thousands of bed mites found in a deranged nightmare. The Exorcist's eyes lit up with pity. It was like the Exorcist saw the crawling insanity that wove itself into the dreams that befell Eiden.

"Awakened. Blessed from a curse." Said the Exorcist in a sorrowful tone.

"Wha-what do you mean?" Asked Eiden.

"Boy, you're a mage now." said the Exorcist matter-a-factly.

The Exorcist's statement was met with a confused expression etched onto Eiden's face.

The Exorcist lifted his right hand, and the hovering ball of light darted towards it. Eiden almost forgot about the magical light. The sword seemed to whisk away all of his attention. The color emanating from the orb changed from warm orange into a piercing blue. Eiden squinted, his eyes overwhelmed by the light.

"With enough practice, you could do this," Said the Exorcist, "and much more. So much more."

The Exorcist got up from the ground he was sitting on and extended a hand to Eiden.

"The name's Fin," Said the Exorcist. "You're my apprentice now... Get up, young exorcist."

Eiden followed the Exorcist out of tunnels. They headed into the town proper of Arvenpyre, talking as they walked along the tunnels and onto the surface. The ground transitioned from the snow-white marble to rust-colored snow and dirt. The snow melted into puddles and made walking around unpleasant. Sounds of footsteps turned mushy with the odd sound of splashing when one stepped in a pool of water. The buildings were made of marble cold to the touch. Damned cold. Deep in the tunnels were always nice and warm. Out here, the nip in the air strips away any heat.

Fin had given Eiden his coat to keep away the cold. It was comical the way it looked on him. He had to wear a borrowed belt around his waist to not let it get wet and dirty from the ground.

The Exorcist walked with a sword on his back and held the metal container at his side.

"What if I don't want to be a mage?" Said Eiden, "I don't even know how to read well. Hell take me, I don't know many complicated words."

"For an orphan, you sure talk well enough," Said Fin, "You don't have any broken Common like the rest of this town." Fin's voice was as rough as his leathery skin.

Hell take me. Becoming a mage was something I dreamed of. And now I don't want it. This all feels like a bad dream I'll eventually wake from. But, I know that it's not. I still can't accept it. I can't accept something that makes their deaths real.

Eiden felt like he had sold the lives of his friends away in exchange for magehood. Though he knew the sentiment was not true, he felt wrongness in the power that ebbed and flowed beneath the surface of his being. Streams of energy flowed beneath his skin like a secret system of underground rivers. The branching channels concentrated on his skin, dissipating outwards like foggy clouds being birthed by the heavens. Eiden's clouds felt grey and melancholic. Everyone around him seemed to have a fog that bled from their skin. What is this stuff?

The Exorcist placed a hand on Eiden's shoulder, removing him from his current thoughts. Looking up at Fin, Eiden realized he had forgotten to say something for a long time.

"Lisa teaches- taught me how to speak well enough and to read," Said Eiden. "She was... A merchant's daughter."

It felt wrong talking about Lisa's background. So much baggage came attached to it, even in death.

Remembering what happened made Eiden spiral into feelings he would have preferred to have never felt. It was like he was floating in the depths of the sea. Suspended and not in control of what direction he went. As a reflection of the water, he was at the discretion of what made the reflection. Flashes from the dreams made their way to his present thoughts. He looked at his hand, clenching and relaxing his fingers as he remembered the claws. And the blood. Eiden shuddered at the thought. Gods, so much blood. It looked so black and dark, but I knew it was blood. It was so... Vibrant.

"Say, did you have any weird dreams?" Asked Fin.

"Huh?" Said Eiden, his eyes bulging. "Yeah. How'd you know? Do you know what they mean?" He was startled by Fin's question and anxious. Can the bastard read minds too? Eiden felt terrible for calling Fin a bastard. Even if it was inside his head. The man had saved him, and Eiden would be forever grateful for it.

But, if he could change places with either Lisa or Bert, he would. He'd do it in a heartbeat.

"Soul-dreams." Answered Fin. "They tell you what your magic is and reveal important things. What you can do at the start, but not what you'll end up as. Sometimes the dreams come in short bursts. Other times it happens all at once. Some even get memories from their past lives."

Eiden recalled his group's dreams of magehood. Every kid from tunnel rat to coddled noble dreamed of being a mage, throwing fireballs and lightning from their finger-tips or moving an object with just a thought. Eiden had even stolen scraps of scrolls and pages from books about magic. Lisa read aloud the words he had difficulty with, and they tried to piece together the information. After all those years of yearning for the crumbs of magic, Eiden had the chance to finally and properly taste it. Knowing that events would turn out to end like this, would he still choose this? If Eiden knew what would happen, would he just let it play out and trade his friends for magic? It was morbid curiosity, one that he wished to not indulge any longer, so his attention refocused onto his surroundings.

He and the Exorcist walked through the streets and buildings of Arvenpyre. It was beautiful. Arvenpyre was a town sculpted into cliffs that led to a bay. The land pinched the horizon at both sides, framing the sprawling morning sea of amber and orange. Seagulls flew in the distance, and boats were scattered along the waters like vegetables and meat in a stew.

A bittersweet feeling came over Eiden. After years of being condemned to the tunnels, he was finally able to see the outside like never before. This was a place he and his ilk were never allowed to be near. Orphans and the homeless were left to live in the tunnels, and the guards would give them a beating if they neared the surface of the town. Even now, Eiden received disapproving looks from the people passing them by. The disdainful looks changed in a snap when Fin caught them. The Exorcist gave them a look that could make them burst into flames. And probably could if he used magic. Fin was dressed in expensive-looking, dark clothes with a sword on his back. Only nobles or mages had swords. Nobody was about to stop them or else incur wrath from a walking machine of war or nobility, especially with the almost constant scowl left on Fin's face. It's like the man was born for a scowl. He looks like a pissed off badger-mole. I mean, badger-moles are always pissed, but this is just exceptional.

Eiden felt strange emotions come over him as he walked. Not from inside, they didn't seem to originate from him. These emotions came from everywhere and nowhere like fog with a mood-swing. As they walked, he could gradually tune certain emotions out, those that were far away and faint. Slowly, Eiden came to associate the emotions with the mist that bled from people's skin.

Sharp and agitated fog was anger. Placid and flowing meant calm. And so on. Curiosity took hold of Eiden, and so he examined the mist around Fin. The air around the Exorcist was ebbing and flowing like the breath of a person. There was also something dangerous about the air around Fin. Eiden focused on the air, reaching out towards it.

"For someone who doesn't wanna be a mage," Said Fin, startling Eiden, "you sure like practicing magic." Fin's voice was light, and his perpetual scowl was gone, replaced by a lopsided grin.

"Huh," said Eiden, "what do you mean?"

"Magic doesn't have to be physically visible to be magic. I'll explain what you did later." said Fin gesturing towards the lord's manor with his chin. "We're gonna talk to this town's lord and collect our bounty for the beast."

"What do you mean 'our' bounty?" asked Eiden. "I didn't even put up a fight against the… Thing." Eiden's voice turned scornful, angry, and disgusted at the same time. To him, it was a monster made from human flesh. It was not a beast. Beasts hunted and killed to survive. They have no choice other than to eat or die. The thing that slaughtered his friends was a monster. It preyed on the innocent, on the weak that could not defend themselves. It toyed with them like a cat would with a mouse... Maybe a monster and beast aren't that different after all.

Eiden was shaken away from his angry and bitter thoughts when a firm hand was placed on his shoulder. The physical gesture felt comforting, and the feelings floating in the air were also pleasant. It wasn't just pity, though there was that a large amount of it there as well, it was… Understanding. Empathy. The mist around Fin calmed Eiden's angry storm clouds, lulling them into tranquility.

As Eiden's anger ebbed, he felt a sharp pain emanate from his hands. Both had white knuckles and were dripping blood. His nails, which he always kept sharp for defense, had dug into his flesh. Scarlet droplets turned foggy as they dropped into a murky puddle. Eiden caught a strange sight in the corner of his eyes. The black substance that permeated his dreams coated his finger-nails.

"You may have not actively participated in the fight," said Fin. "But how could you? You weren't a mage yet, and the power you've awakened wasn't yet suitable for a fight. But, you're now an exorcist in training. You'll have the power to fight monsters. All I ask is patience. Not with me, but with yourself."

Fin gave Eiden a somber smile and then clapped him on the back, startling the young exorcist from the sheer force and surprise of it.

"Now," said Fin. "Let's get this done quickly. Afterward, we'll break our fast, and then the training starts in earnest." After considering something for a while, Fin continued.

"Oh, and don't reach out towards the noble with your spirit. It's considered bad form, and I don't have the time to teach you aura etiquette."

Fin looked at the manor and then at Eiden.

"Follow me, young exorcist."

Before Eiden followed Fin into the manor, he looked back at his nails. The claws were gone. Eiden let out a breath he didn't know he was holding onto.

The interior of the manor was more opulent than the outside. Paintings hung the walls, sculptures made of white stone spotted the halls, and servants hustled like worker ants. Eiden felt that if he was here a day ago, he would've been looking at the inside of the manor with a swiveling head and craning neck to see every detail. But, it all felt so numb. So pointless.

An attendant escorted them to the lord of Arvenpyre. Lord Arven, in the flesh, was sitting at a desk made of bright-red wood. Whether it was natural or painted on, Eiden didn't know. The lord was currently talking with a small child: blonde hair, the same as him with high and sharp cheekbones. Hers was less pronounced, hidden away by a layer of chubbiness associated with childhood. She couldn't have been more than five or six winters old. She must be his daughter. She's got the same sharp face as him. They could cut bread with those.

Lord Arven sat up and adjusted his attire. It was surprisingly dull—none of the telltale colors of nobility or riches were evident in him. The lord's clothing was mostly grey and black with burgundy boots that bled a warm color. There was a dangerous air to the man. Dull green eyes that pierced through the veil sheathing one's thoughts. A scar started from his left cheek and ended just under his mouth that spoke to some martial background or of an accident.

The mist around the nobleman was dangerous like Fin's. It was like looking down at the tip of a sword or seeing a snake coiled and ready to strike. Another layer of body language and communication was happening between the noble and the Exorcist, their mist swirling in entrancing and sharp patterns. Magic peacocks. Thought Eiden wryly. Even in his fugue, he couldn't not make the comparison.

"So you're the exorcist my attendant informed me about," Said Lord Arven. "I am Lord Teldrin Arven. I haven't had the pleasure of meeting you. Exorcist?" The lord's voice was courteous and firm. Polite, but quick to the point.

"Phineas Luciean. High Exorcist of the thirteenth branch." Said Fin.

"What is the head of the Exorcist branch doing here in my humble domain?" Said lord Arven, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

"An Exorcist's job. Putting spirits at peace." Said Fin. "There was a vampire in the tunnels. It has been dispatched, the body burned, and the spirit inhabiting it has been cleansed. Here's the proof" The strange metallic container Fin had been carrying was placed on top of the lord's table. Fin unclamped the sides of the container and then removed the lid. Fin tipped the opened end towards the lord. The lord's eyes widened for a brief moment before he schooled his expression back to the grim one he had on his face beforehand. The lord Arven nodded.

"Thank you for your services exorcist," Said lord Arven in a surprisingly grateful tone, bowing his head slightly. The lord looked at Eiden and then back at Fin, "Who's the boy?"

"My apprentice, Eiden," Said Fin

"Nice to meet you, young lad." Said Lord Arven. "May your Path be long."

"Thank you, milord." Replied Eiden, a little akward.

"We're too far away from any good method of communication with the Order..." Said Fin, filling the silence. "I expect to be paid in person—one hundred Kedweni silver coins. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have preparations to make. I'll be returning to collect tomorrow at noon." Fin gave the nobleman a small bow, and he and Eiden left the manor.

"I know you're a mage and all," Said Eiden, "but should you really have talked with the lord like that?"

Fin snorted in response.

"Did you really not know why he asked the reason for being so far away from the Order?" Said Fin.

"No"

"I am the leader of the Exorcist branch of the Order. Kedweni aristocracy doesn't like it that positions in the Order are mostly earned by merit. Nonetheless, my social position is quite high due to my station. But it's… complicated. I have all the needed political power but have someone representing my best interests back at the Order. And I am very far away from there."

Fin looked at Eiden and sighed.

"You really don't understand, do you?"

"Kind of. But no, not really. What's 'political' mean?"

"Gods, I'll have to sort out that lack of education of yours. But first, a meal. That tavern there looks good enough."

The tavern was made of white marble, as all the buildings of Arvenpyre were. Voices boomed, and people littered the establishment. White tables and chairs made of stone sat patrons. It was a mixing of backgrounds. From commonfolk to young nobles with colorful garbs and dyed hair of varying colors—a southeastern Kedweni taste. Traveling merchant caravans and even a performing troupe was present, their music making its way to Eiden's ears.

Fin and Eiden were seated towards the back of the establishment with a window overlooking the sea.

"While we wait for the food, there's something important to tell you." Said Fin. "This isn't gonna be easy. The training to become an exorcist, that is. It will be painful, and you'll see horrors left best unseen. But if not for us, other people would be subjected to monstrosities like the one that slaughtered your cronies. But that's not even the primary job of an exorcist."

"Then what is?" Asked Eiden, seeing that Fin left his statement open for a question. Though it was an obvious ploy to get him to interact, curiosity still burned within Eiden.

"Though most think of us as just monster-slayers, we are much more. Our primary and most important job is helping ease spirits after death. If we simply slew monsters, their victims would turn into them. Sometimes even burning a body isn't enough to stop a vengeful wraith. Not everything is or should be fought with a blade, but we damn well win when it comes to that."

Eiden felt for the first time since waking up, something that he dared not feel. He felt hopeful. And something else. He felt anger boiling within—invigorating, although caustic. Sure, he could try and move on and forget, but… The fumes of rage were so intoxicating. And something called to him in the idea of preying upon those that preyed on the weak. Hope emanated from having a chance to help others and prevent what happened to him. Sadistic anticipation came from the possibility of his revenge coming to fruition. The slaughterer of his friends had been felled, removing his outlet. And now, he had one once again. A ball of emotions thrummed in his chest—a cold and cruel core surrounded by a layer of warmth and hope.

Eiden looked at Fin, his eyes a calm determination, and nodded.

Fin nodded back.