Author's note

It's the tenth! What? Oh yeah, you are right, it's technically a third of the way, but that was not what I meant... Well, if you do know what I mean, you'll be too busy to read my chapters anyway.

Word count

This chapter: 1685

Total: 16058

NaNoWriMo target for the 9th: 15000

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If only I was a human, I could move unseen around here… Instead, I’m stuck inside this wardrobe, waiting for all the humans to leave, so I can conduct my operation.

The noise of a myriad men and women speaking picked up over time - to the point it was overshadowing everything else going on around Aitken. Yet suddenly, he heard footsteps from right outside the wardrobe. He peeked through the gap to see a bald man in a white robe - a robe which had golden edges around the neck, sleeves and the bottom. The bald man simply passed by the cupboard in which Aitken was sitting, opening the door to the platform.

The bald man faced the crowd in front of him. “Good people of Woodsburg, I know what is on your lips. I have heard it too - the darkness has risen once more, closer to home than ever before. A witch has burnt down the village of Dragonsbreath, and even the church’s heavily guarded outpost has been burnt to the ground by the flames of Damnation the darkness brings. But know this - when darkness comes, the light will banish all darkness to the shadows from whence they came.”

The bald priest lifted his hands above his waist. “At the darkest hour, the light will always find a way to triumph, never forget this.”

A man shouted from the crowd. “They are attacking everywhere at once! What can we do?”

The priest simply answered in a loud voice. “Yes, the darkness is coming at us from all sides - but we, the people will never let ourselves be bullied into submission. They try to frighten us, it’s a part of their tactics to make good men stand idly by - for that is all the darkness needs to thrive. They may be burning our churches, they may be torching our homes and they may be assassinating good men on the very streets we thought were safe, but we will never cower in fear! Steel yourselves, and aid the church of light in our quest for true freedom - the freedom from darkness itself. Do not stand by idly!” The priest raised both his fists into the air.

The crowd roared wildly at that notion, and their voices echoed throughout the entire church.

After a while, the cheering died down.

“We have a guest today. Someone with a burning desire to speak out against darkness. The lone survivor from Dragonsbreath village. She will tell of her experiences - let this be all the proof you need for my words.”

The door into the small room behind the Platform opened, and Aitken spotted his sister Akane walking by. With a determined look on her face, Akane walked onto the platform.

Aitken hurriedly, but silently opened the wardrobe and went to the door, peeking through the crack. He could not enter, nor could he make his move with Akane here.

“Men and women of Woodsburg! I have seen, with my own two eyes the evil that threatens our peace.” Akane yelled. “The demons from damnation itself has taken my very own mother. The curses of a witch and her familiar have slaughtered my entire village, just for them to set the forest on fire afterwards, burning the remains of my village to the ground. I urge you all to join the church, like me. I have chosen to train to become a paladin, and so should you. I will not let darkness consume my world, neither should you.”

Aitken was stunned. The crowd started cheering once more, but Akane merely turned around and walked to the room behind the platform.

When Aitken snapped out of his trail of thoughts, Akane was already about to open the door.

He quickly hid behind the door as it opened. When Akane slammed the door again, she was left to stare directly at Aitken, who was pressed against the wall.

Her eyes narrowed, and she spoke a single word “Demon”.

She quickly drew a shiny steel sword from a brown leather scabbard hanging down from the left of her waist. Aitken slowly stepped backwards. She grabbed the door behind her and swung it open.

Aitkens eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, when the back-row had a clear view of him. They started yelling uncontrollably, and the priest turned around and spotted Aitken as well.

“Even now, the demons are among us! For the light!”

He lifted his hand and started chanting.

Aitken turned tail and ran with all his might towards the other exit, narrowly escaping the fury of Akane.

When he arrived at the small pathway behind the room, the crowds had already mobilized, filling both of the exits. Behind him was the wrath of a priest and his very own sister. To either side was a mob ready to flog him.

Aitken grit his teeth - there was only one way out of this - back towards the platform.

He snatched a torch on the wall and started running towards Akane. She lifted her sword above her head.

Aitken swung the torch full-force, narrowly missing Akane’s face. She evaded backwards, and Aitken passed by unhindered due to this maneuver.

The priest finished his chant, and a golden thunderbolt shot from his hand. Aitken felt the holy magic tear into his flesh, as thunder-bolt shape burns appeared on his skin. A smell of sulphur and burnt flesh spread in the room, as Aitken forced his way towards the priest, through the golden thunderbolts.

“Die!” Aitken howled, in a garbled unintelligible and squeaky voice. The torch in Aitkens hand thundered onward, striking the priest on the chest. Not a drop of blood or a bit of fire spread - so it had done very little damage tot he priest. Aitken had to dodge as Akane swung her sword from behind, about to cut him in two.

“Not enough power. Tch.”

While running towards the outer wall, Aitken rummaged his backpack for a second, grabbing his last jar of flammable liquid. He held it up in one hand and the torch in the other. He popped the lid and squirted a bit backwards, towards Akane and the priest, igniting it in the air with the torch.

Both Akane and the priest stopped their pursuit and stared at the fire for just a moment, and capitalizing on this, Aitken splashed the rest of the contents down from the platform, towards the outer wall. He jumped down onto the liquid and ignited it. People fled from the wall of fire Aitken had created, essentially opening a flaming pathway to the wall. He quickly ran along it, and climbed the wall as fast as his tiny claws would allow. The mobs started lugging anything they could get their hands on at him. After being hit by everything from rocks to shoes to alter-wine, he finally forced his way through the tiny window, reaching the outside of the church.

From the outside, shouts from villagers were heard. “It’s an imp! Evil has come!”

Aitken flapped his wings gently.

It’s no good. I wish I could just glide out of town.

Aitken quickly descended the church by hand, and found himself on the plaza filled with people and guards slowly seeping into the plaza from other parts of town.

Not all of them will attack me, right? they gotta be scared… Right? Well, not the guards, but the civilians?

Aitken started running towards the nearest piece of palisade he could spot. He pulled his sword and swung it around, yelling demon-gibberish in an attempt to terrify the civilians. It had some degree of success, but the guards suddenly had an easy time spotting him, as people would actively run away from him when he approached.

He finally reached an alley leading to the palisade, with a troop of guards right behind him. Aitken leapt with all his might, clawing himself onto the palisade and forcing himself towards the top.

I can’t believe it, I made it through all this with only minor bruises and some burns.

Twok-Tok-Tok

The sounds of crossbow bolts being released met Aitken’s ears, as a sharp pain struck his lower back and leg.

As he climbed the barricade, he dragged a orange line of demon-blood behind him.

“Idiots! How can you miss him from this distance?” A man howled. “Give me that crossbow!”

Aitken felt fear creep up his spine, and despite the burning sensation in his arms, he increased the climbing pace.

Twok!

Aitken grabbed the top of the palisade with his claw, and pulled with all his might. He coughed and tasted the ashen taste of his own blood.

A lung? I wonder if this is as bad to imps as it is to humans.

He tumbled over the edge of the palisade and fell to the ground. An unbearable pain overwhelmed him when his back slammed onto the ground.

“Gurgghh.. Argh”

Aitken slowly got to his feet and walked at a fast pace towards the forest. The guards were hopelessly behind, so he was in no great rush.

When he arrived at the edge of the woods, he continued into the depths of the woods - an unknown place, even to him who had once lived there.

Aitken kept going, until he could no longer hear the commotion from the town. He kept going until he could no longer even see the lights, or smell the smoke. And then he kept going further, at a slow and steady pace.

In the middle of nowhere, he saw a wooden construction - not really a house, it was simply too small for that, but a tiny tree house with a low ceiling placed in the trees. Aitken slowly climbed up there, and laid down. Whoever had this would simply have to deal with him borrowing it. He closed the small door and barred it with a wooden board that could be flipped down for this very purpose.

Only now, did Aitken begin to pull the arrows, wrapping himself up with his last few bandages, applying liberal amounts of healing salve underneath. He ate a fruit and simply laid on the wooden floor of this tiny wooden house.

After failing so majestically, I will need time to heal up. I can’t go about these missions without my wings. Now, I can barely run with that trashed lung, It’s hard to breathe because of it.

Aitken coughed once more, spitting blood on the floor. I should be okay… With plenty of rest. Should be.

His eyes eyes started closing on their own, and he fell asleep in this unfamiliar place.

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Can't always win, huh?

Thanks for reading!