Author's note

Final-stretch sequence initiated. Plot bleeding set to [Max] effect.

I didn't actually have time to reread today, so I'll just go with a grammatically flawed chapter. (heh, not like that's any different normally, considering I have the grammatical skills of a turtle.)

Word count

This chapter:3998

Total: 40019

NaNoWriMo target for the 24th: 40000

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Indeed, the acolyte was right - Aitken couldn’t leave. This was not due to some magical force, or a even a broad-shouldered acolyte wearing full plate armour. Aitken had a purpose with being here. He simply could not leave yet.

Aitken clenched his fists. I have to find a way to bring down the church of light. Tonight is my best chance to find that one thing that can help me bring them down.

Aitken looked at the piece of chalk he held in his hand. I was given a gift, perhaps on purpose or perhaps unknowingly. I have to use it.

Aitken sat at a chair by the table he was thrown at. He looked at the witch next to him, who was already fully occupied consuming dubious looking mushrooms.

Aitken pondered for a moment. “This is not the way to go about it.” he mumbled to himself.

Aitken stepped up once more, ignoring the mushrooms and weird dishes served. He walked towards the altar. “Perhaps there’s something here.”

But alas, a few acolytes kept him from entering - the place seemed to crawl with acolytes.

“So which one is your master?” A passing succubus asked. “Seeing how you’re just lazing about, perhaps I can get on her good side, too?”

Aitken frowned as the succubus left. What was that all about?

It struck him that the demons are a force to be reckoned with all on their own and they liked neither the witches nor the church of light. If he couldn’t get the witches to join him, there might still be a chance at establishing some sort of army out of freed demons. The thought was rather quickly dismissed when he measured all the combined power of the demons he knew, against the power of a single witch.

For a moment, Aitken pondered what would happen when he finally toppled the church of light - would the cult of shadows take over? Then the image of Serafine and Glinda showed up in his mind. The cult seemed to be a loose organization, established as a countermeasure to the power of the church… At least that was Aitken’s hypothesis.

This still didn’t bring him closer to a resolution, however. He thought hard and long about a resolution, but came up with no better idea than simply aiding the cult of shadows. He had no power to challenge the church on his own, and he didn’t have the means to gather intelligence to use against them.

Aitken pondered if he had made the right choice, going to the sabbath in the first place - while he did get a foot in the door of the cult, he hadn’t made much progress in the downfall of the church by arriving here.

Aitken’s thoughts were dispelled at the start of the mass itself. A crowd lined up around the stone-circle that made for an outer perimeter for the altar.

Glinda Hart herself passed through the crowds with a goat. She arrived at the altar, facing the crowd.

“Welcome to the forty-second black mass. Today, we will as per custom, summon forth the god of demons. Before we do this, we will discuss the current affairs. As you might have heard, our fellow cultists in Dragonsbreath have recently been wiped off the map. Even the leader, mayor Aleto, did not survive. We all know the power he commanded, yet even this could not fend it off.”

Aitken flinched. My dad? The town had a full week to report on this… Did the church of light catch the messenger?

“The church has been testing a new magical weapon - we don’t know much about it at this time. It seems like some sort of illness, curse or even a magic capable of instantly killing off people in a large area… But we simply don’t know yet. That is why we need to brace ourselves, and stand more united than ever before.”

Aitken bustled through the crowd, pushing and shoving his way towards the altar. This was his chance to shine.

A loud horn echoed from afar. Witches, demons and acolytes turned around. The nearby hill appeared as though it was suddenly lit on fire, as hundreds of torches arrived one by one over the top of the mountain. A small army appeared seemingly from nowhere, heading towards the black mass assembly at a grueling pace.

The witches at the black mass started speaking up, and within a moment, the entire crowd yelled in the mouths of each other.

Glinda howled with a booming voice. “Line up! Prepare for battle. It’s the paladins.”

In the chaos, witches, demons and acolytes were split - some scattered, some lined up. The paladins surprising assault had given them an advantage, and as they rapidly approached on horsebacks, it was clear they had gone all-in.

“It’s the 21st mass over again!” a witch yelled.

“Stand fast! This time we will not fall so easily.” Glinda howled with all her might in response.

The riders approached fast, and soon they were within 300 paces distance.

“Prepare your best ranged offense” Glinda yelled.

A moment passed by - a myriad of witches stabbed, charged up and prepared for attacking in different ways.

“Fire!” Glinda howled, as she herself sent a bolt of shadows at the enemy cavalry, splattering a handful of them.

Arrows, flames, ice, small meteors and an entire array of colourful magic was lobbed, thrown and shot straight at the approaching cavalry. The effect was devastating, as at least fifty paladins or paladin-trainees laid bleeding on the ground, dead or near-death.

The cavalry continued their relentless charge, and the lines of witches scattered as a second shot wasn’t even an option at this point. Each prepared their own strategies as the cavalry led a charge straight into the scattered lines. Like death sweeping the floor, witches, demons, and acolytes fell to the mighty momentum of a hundred angry and mounted paladins.

Corpses littered the battlefield, a great deal of them from the initial charge itself.

Aitken had been at the back of the line, as he had pushed himself forward towards the altar, but was standing on the side furthest away from the attack.

During the initial charge, he had managed to acquire a small sword, and Aitken was now engaged in combat with a young mounted female. She swung her sword at Aitken, and he dodged, only to swung his at the leg of the horse, chopping it off cleanly.

The lady fell to the ground, as the horse collapsed under her. She stood up, and swung her blade at Aitken from above.

After all his encounters, Aitken felt an ease about dodging the blow - as if he could see the swing more clearly than ever before.

He sidestepped and stabbed her in the side with the looted blade. She swung her sword again, but Aitken Blocked, and sent his tail around her leg.

When she tried to swing once more, Aitken simply forcibly moved her leg with his tail. As she tumbled to the ground, Aitken stabbed her throat, resulting in the blood flowing to the ground.

That was easy, I really ha-

Aitken didn’t have time to finish his trail of thoughts, before he noticed witches falling left and right, around a group of exceptional fighters.

Paladins?

Eight paladins carved a bloody path as they walked straight for the altar - and between them and the altar, Aitken was standing.

Witches, acolytes and demons scattered or died in front of the paladins, as they rapidly approached Aitken.

He inspected them - A woman with burns in her face wearing chain armor and a hammer, a female archer wearing brightened leather, and two women in full plate armour with a large sword and shield, as well as four males, all of them wearing bright plate, except for one wearing a long coat and a sword.

Finally, Aitken noticed the one in the middle of their formation. An angel in a golden metal breastplate and a flaming sword.. and one wing. A single, pure white, feathery and fluffy looking wing extruding from his back towards his right side.

“Run! It’s Ramiel!” a witch howled, as the crowds scattered even more than before, most fleeing straight away from the party.

Aitken froze for a moment. “Ramiel.” He grit his teeth. He had a shot now, but could he possibly make it? Was his chance of successfully destroying the leader of the church really fixed at 0%?

Aitken pondered his options, and how he possibly could take down the man in the center of the formation. Meanwhile, the party closed in on Aitken, who had been standing deep in thoughts, unmoving.

Aitken gazed up at the party, who were mere inches from him.

“Take that imp out, Merwenna.” The man in the center calmly said.

The female archer in bright leather responded with a single nod, and she drew her bow.

The instant her fingers started slipping, Aitken leapt to the side. Like a thunderbolt, the arrow shot past Aitken and flew straight through one of the rocks forming the perimeter around the altar.

Steel bolts?

“Ah, this one dodged.” Merwenna said with a hint of surprise in her voice.

“Hm, he’s surprisingly fast for a demon. Go, How of the west.” The Ramiel the angel said without stopping his party’s slow advance.

The man wearing a long coat stepped forward, holding his single-edged blade an armslength from himself.

Aitken braced for impact, holding his sword up in front of him.

For a moment, he lost track of How - as if the man had vanished into thin air.

Aitken leapt, and flapped his wings, trying to put some distance between him and a potential blade - just to remember how half his one wing was cut off.

There!

Aitken guarded himself with his sword as How struck. The borrowed blade turned to butter under the force of How’s sword and Aitken narrowly dodged by lifting his feet.

Aitken looked at his blade, then back to How of the west. The man covered most of his face with a brown hat matching his long brown coat, yet his half-long black hair showed underneath.

How lifted his hat just enough to reveal his deep brown eyes. “Yer’ a dodgy one, ain't ya?”

Aitken looked at the angel behind him - the very reason he was here. His end goal, the final destination… The true reason he had lost his sister, mother and father. The cause of his death, misery and everything he knew. Soon, his struggle would be over - he just had to get through How somehow.

Aitken lifted his halved blade with conviction.

I should run… A voice said inside Aitken’s mind, but he drowned it out, there was no point in listening to that when he’s come this far.

Aitken grabbed a nearby rock with his tail, he held his broken sword tightly in his fist, and a small flame grew in his other hand - a little larger than a torch, but not by much.

If I put everything I’ve learned to use, I can take down a single opponent.

Aitken waited for how to strike again and How responded with a swift attack once more.

Aitken leapt into the air with all his might, tossing the fireball directly at where he predicted How would strike from.

Indeed, How took the bait and received a fireball right on his hand as he was about to strike. In that moment of confusion, Aitken swung his tail with a large rock upwards, smacking How’s solar-plexus. How threw himself backwards as the broken blade cut through his hat.

Ramiel narrowed his eyes and motioned for the party to stop. “Who is this imp?”

How lightly lifted his shoulders. “Ain’t got-a clue” he said as he threw his hat off, and swept back his sleeves. How’s black glove tightened around his one sword, as he lifted an identical sword with his other hand. “Let’s play, demon.”

At an ever-increasing pace, How blitzed towards Aitken. This time, there was no escape, as How cut Aitken’s sword down the middle, severing his fingers.

“Gah!”

“Gotcha, try n’ die quick.” How said, as his sword thundered towards Aitken’s throat.

Aitken tossed himself backwards, but swept his tail around How’s arm, yanking it sideways.

How smirked in response as the second sword severed Aitken’s tail.

“Grraahh!” Aitken howled in pain, as his severed tail fell to the ground, dying the grass orange.

“There we are. Now it’s the end of tha’ line.”

Aitken looked at his right hand, and he felt the blood flowing out of his hand, as it dripped to the ground. Sure enough, the smell of sulphur and metal mixed, but Aitken felt it differently.

A voice echoed in his head. “So you’ve finally figured out how to use me?”

Aitken looked back at How, and saw time slow down. He couldn’t physically move, but his mind went into overdrive.

“You… Who are you? You are not the potato.”

“No, I was never the potato. I am you, or rather.. I am the ‘you’ who would be inside that body, had it not been for the flow of time getting disrupted.”

“Disrupted?” Aitken asked.

“Simple, I was forced out of my own body, in favour of you. Who did this, I do not know… But I don’t think we have the luxury for this discussion right now.” The voice said.

“I am indeed the true imp, so use me. Use the demon inside of you. Let the blood flow, and draw power from all you’ve lost, what you’ve struggled to get through… Turn your pain into power”

“You mean my blood?”

“Yes, use the fire in your blood.”

Suddenly Aitken understood everything, and time started speeding up around him.

“Let there be flames!” Aitken howled - this time, however… It was in the human tongue.

How flinched, as a maelstrom of fire started swirling around Aitken’s right hand - the hand without four of his five fingers.

No doubt, even Ramiel could feel the intense heat from the fire - even at that distance.

Like a massive, horizontal waterspout of orange and red flames and fire, the maelstrom of fire spewed forth, incinerating everything in its path, including How.

The smell of burnt hair filled the air, and Aitken started breathing heavily. He felt the warmth, and a speck of sweat drip down his forehead.

How staggered backwards, his eyebrows burnt to a crisp, hair looking flimsy and burnt… But most of all, his skin was filled with burns - large burns.

“You will not survive this encounter, Ramiel!” Aitken howled, once more in the human tongue.

“You’re… speaking?” Ramiel said, staring intently at Aitken. “Why do you stand in our path?”

“I’ve come for revenge, you killed my father, my mother, my sister and my entire village.”

“You’re from Dragonsbreath? So you’re the end-result of a full demon possession, yes?”

“No. I am the son of the mayor of Dragonsbreath, Aitken. I have come to bring down the church.”

“You don’t understand.” Ramiel said. “We’re the heroes. You are protecting this rabble, look at them! Look at them eat human flesh and feast on the good graces of mother nature.”

“I know of your plague. One week for the good ones, huh? You killed them all, it was a failure.”

“They were all cultists, this much was widely known… You don’t see? It’s a cure. A cure for all evil - not a plague. Imagine everybody who lied, bullied, tricked and murdered would disappear. Everybody who deserves death, would get death - and all the civilians would survive. It’s the ultimate cure for what ails this world… More than anything, the cultists after the 21st Black mass, would cease to exist. The threat of getting killed at night by a bunch of cultists gone mad would be eliminated. The frequent attacks would simply vanish. The very reason people are afraid would die out, in the matter of weeks.”

“You’re insane.” Aitken answered coldly.

“If curing the world of all those who wish to harm others is evil… No matter, I see bandying words with you is pointless… Prepare for dying together with all the evil that resides here, at the last black mass - the very extinction event for organized evil..” Ramiel waved his hand. “Fan out, kill this dark prince of imps.”

A familiar voice echoed. “No you won’t!” as a tsunami of flames swept over the paladins.

Aitken looked over at the witch. Her dazzling straight black hair, black dress, snow white skin and her purple eyes.

“Rosedriah…” Aitken said, once more in the human tongue.

“Look, Rosedriah, I’m sorry abou-

“Let’s take that later.” Rosedriah said with determination, as she stared directly at the paladins. “We’ve got a different problem.”

Aitken nodded. “Let’s take them out.”

“We can’t. After we killed How and the ranger, we will leave.”

“What?” Aitken stared at her in surprise.

“It’s not… In the cards. Just do as I say.”

“Okay, Cepath, Flasor, are you wit-...”

“They’re not here, Aitken.” She said, as she lifted her hand towards the group of paladins.

“Chains of flame, burn my enemies.”

Four white-glowing chains shot out from her hands, all of which smashed into How of the west. The burnt paladin was suddenly nothing more than a lumpy goo.

“What? How!” Ramiel yelled as he dashed forward.

He swung his blade, it danced and sung in the wind as it descended on Rosedriah. She pulled her sword and put it in the path.

The blades rung as the fire from Ramiel’s blade gently brushed flames against Rosedriah’s face.

Aitken thundered towards Ramiel “Die!”

In response an arrow struck through Aitken’s leg.

“Gah!” Aitken tumbled, but threw the broken blade at Ramiel.

Ramiel flapped his wing, and a powerful wind made the blade fall to the ground.

Ramiel put more force on the blade, and Rosedriah’s silver sword started cracking.

She grit her teeth and leapt backwards, stabbing herself in the process.

“Chains of the depths of damnation, ground this angel!”

Chains shot up from the ground and latched onto his legs.

“A battle of magic, huh?”

Ramiel pointed a flat hand towards the chains. “Holy light!”

A ray of light opened up through the night, illuminating Ramiel. The chains withered and turned to dust, as he pressed his advance.

“I’ve got you now, gray witch!”

Rosedriah started looking pressed, as she blocked blow after blow.

Aitken opened a hand towards the ranger, and a flame-jet shot out.

“Inertia-strike.” Glinda hart’s dark voice echoed as a black bolt was shot through the air. The air rippled as the bolt flew with incredible velocity at the ranger, who was instantly smashed to bits.

“Cover, Rosedriah!” Molly shouted as a barrage of bottles flew at Ramiel.

Rosedriah threw herself backwards.

Bo-BO-BO-BOOOM!

“No! Get out of here Molly!” Rosedriah howled, as she seemed panicked about Molly's mere presence.

“What? I can’t let you fight alone.” Molly said.

“You’ll die, hurry and run away!” Rosedriah howled.

Finally, the paladins stopped hesitating, and they rushed an opponent each.

“Retreat, we are no match for their numbers.” Glinda yelled.

Molly threw another barrage of bottles as she dashed backwards.

Out of the flames, Ramiel flew. He rammed sword-first into Molly, who was stunned as her chest was pierced.

“I’m sorry, Rose…” Molly said, as she rapidly popped a potion as her vision grew dark.

KA-WOOOM!

A large crater was left where Molly had stood. Ramiel looked heavily damaged, but still alive. The three cultist-combatants retreated with all their might as the six paladins charged for them.

“No, Molly…I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.” Rosedriah said, as she ran with all her might, tears in her eyes.

Aitken looked to the ground, he felt a sadness grow inside of him - while he hadn’t known her for long, she had been a great ally when she was alive, perhaps even a friend.

Glinda chanted something, and suddenly leaked a thick black smoke behind her as she ran - effectively blinding the paladins. “I’m heading this way, you better not head straight either… We will regroup later, outside Dragonsbreath” Glinda notified Aitken and Rosedriah.

Aitken and Rosedriah headed to the other side, into the darkness of the forest once more.

After they had ran for a while, she stopped him.

“Aitken.”

Aitken looked up at her. “We speak for the first time, huh?”

She shook her head. “I’m… Under a spell, currently… Wait, can I tell you what spell? I’m not sure whether or not that would mess with… Well, anyway... I’m not really the ‘me’ you know at this time. The Rosedriah you know is that way, she is safe.” Rosedriah pointed straight away from the altar.

“Just go talk to me, err... Her. You can tell why you said what you said, that worked well last ti-err… It’ll work, trust me.”

Aitken narrowed his eyes “What is going on here?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“I have a suspicion… And I don’t like it one bit.” Aitken said.

“... I’ll see you around soon, just don’t get yourself killed ag-err don’t die. Okay?”

Aitken frowned. “I think I get what you’re saying… I’ll go talk to you over there, then…” Aitken pointed. “But really, why have you come?”

“Just… don’t die.” Rosedriah said again.

Aitken nodded “I don’t plan on it. I’ll talk to you in a moment.”

Rosedriah nodded. “I don’t hope this’ll be the last time we meet, Aitken.”

Aitken looked at her for a brief moment, before he turned away and walked towards the ‘real’ Rosedriah.

On his way there, he thought about what Rosedriah had said, and in particular he thought about Molly, who died in vain.

Aitken felt angry, angry at himself and his inability to do anything - despite his newfound powers, he was still weak.

He clenched his one fist, and looked at his right hand. “I will need fingers… I hope they regenerate on imps like my wings.”

Aitken spotted Rosedriah, and she spotted him. Flasor and Cepath stood next to her.

“Stay away, Imp.” Rosedriah pointed her clean silver sword at Aitken.

“Look, Rose… I’m sorry, I was out of options but to tell Cepath that I disliked you at the time. He wouldn’t stop mistranslating me.” Aitken said, once more in human speech.

Rosedriah’s eyes shot up. “You can speak?”

“Yes, but that’s not important right now. The paladins may come soon, as you might have realized, they attacked.”

“Yes, we left because they brought an army and almost all the highest ranking paladins.” Flasor said.

“Molly is dead.” Aitken said, as he looked at his right hand. “And I have a feeling, she isn’t the only one.”

Rosedriah started stuttering. “Y-you.. wh-what? Molly is dead?”

Aitken nodded slowly. “She died saving Y-erh… Me and Glinda.” Aitken said as he lifted his hand, showing the lost fingers.

Rosedriah turned around and fell on her knees. Her back didn’t conceal the tears dropping to the ground, or the light sobs. Aitken went over, and put his healthy hand on her shoulder. “She died fighting for what she believed in.” he said, as he himself felt the pressure on his eyes return once more.

“May she finally have peace.”

Cepath and Flasor didn’t speak, and a while passed by before Rosedriah got up again, and stopped sobbing. Yet her red eyes betrayed her facial expression. “Let’s get those church bastards.” she said with determination in her voice.

“Yes. Let’s. We should regroup with Glinda after making sure it’s all safe… She is probably our only hope, now that the cult has been almost exterminated.”

Rosedriah nodded without a word.

“Let’s avenge her.” Cepath said. “The man who did it will not get away.”

“Ramiel himself. She died trying to blow him up when her heart was pierced.” Aitken said.

“Then he will die for what he did.” Rosedriah said with anger in her voice. “I will make him suffer.”

The party left, heading for Dragonsbreath beyond the forest.

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Thanks for reading!