"What the Hell was that?" Fulk spat as he and Giradin fled the inn.

Giradin might have retorted with something akin to, "I don't know! I've never seen something like that either!" were it not for the shooting pain in his skull from when the ashen man burned his eyelids and yanked his eye from its socket. In that moment, all he could do was groan in pain and clutch his face.

"Hey! You!" Fulk and Giradin both looked up to see one of the militiamen, a baton in hand, rushing toward them. "What are you doing out past curfew?" On a second glance, Giradin recognized him as Hicks, the shorter militiaman who'd tried to arrest him the previous day.

Giradin pointed back toward the inn, though he could not even begin to form words to express what had just happened. Fulk also seemed to be at a loss for words, as he simply stammered incoherently while pointing at the inn.

"Did something happen in there?" Hicks asked. "A burglar? Rats? Spit it out... Oh, God!"

Giradin turned to see what had made the militiaman's face go white, though he had a feeling he knew before he beheld it. The ashen man, with flames leaping from his mouth, eyes, and ears, stood outside the inn.

In an astonishing act of courage and recklessness, Hicks threw himself at the ashen man.

"No! Wait!" Fulk shouted.

Hicks' baton smashed the ashen man's head, breaking a hole through his temple.

The ashen man's hand seized Hicks by the face, his middle and ring fingers digging into the militiaman's eyes. Giradin froze in horror as smoke rose from Hicks' face and the ashen man's fingers sunk into the eye sockets. Hicks cried out in agony, dropped his baton, and thrashed about in a vain attempt to escape.

The ashen man flung Hicks' aside as if he were a scarecrow. The cinders regathered and reformed the ashen man's head. His burning eyes spied Fulk and Giradin, and he walked toward them.

"To the church!" Fulk bellowed. "Run!"

Giradin and Fulk took off, fleeing as fast as their legs could carry them. Giradin could hear the ashen man giving chase, and ahead of him he spied his and Fulk's terrified shadows in the flames' orange light. The glow illuminated the houses and buildings all around them, but made the path directly before their feet pitch black with their own shadows.

In the distance, Giradin saw the church's steeple, risen above all the other rooftops. That cross, now more than ever, represented salvation, for dark spirits could not set foot on hallowed ground.

On the side of Giradin he could not see, he heard Fulk yelp and his body hit the cobblestone street. Giradin turned to look back and saw Fulk collapsed face-first on the ground, then struggling to get back up. The ashen man drew near and reached out for him.

Without a moment to think, Giradin slammed his shoulder into the ashen man. It was as if he'd just hit a pillar. The ashen man remained upright, and Giradin fell backward onto the street with a hard thud.

The ashen man's hand neared Fulk's face. The murderer struck out with his mace, smashing the cinders to pieces.

But the stranger's other hand seized Fulk's wrist and held it in a vise-like grip. Struggle as he might, Fulk couldn't get his arm free.

The ashen man's grip tightened further, and Giradin heard a popping sound from Fulk's wrist. Fulk groaned and screwed his eyes shut.

A string of curses flowed from Fulk's mouth. He loosed the mace from his fingers, snatched it up with his free hand, and swung at the ashen man's head.

But the ashen man's other hand caught Fulk's free wrist just before the mace connected with his temple.

Giradin picked up a stone from the side of the road and launched himself at the ashen man again.

The ashen man's leg lifted, planting its foot in the middle of Giradin's chest. With one hard kick, the spirit sent Giradin sprawling onto the street again, his head smacking the cobblestone.

The ashen man twisted Fulk's wrists in his grip, and the popping sound grew louder. Fulk shrieked.

Giradin couldn't bring himself to run. He'd fled from danger enough times before, but he couldn't abandon Fulk to such a horrible death. But neither could he overpower the ashen man.

With no other recourse, Giradin cast his eyes toward the star-filled heavens above and cried out aloud, "Holy Mary, Mother of God! Help us! Jesus Christ, save us from this wicked spirit!"

The ashen man hissed, released Fulk, and recoiled away from Giradin.

A white light illuminated the city street and all the houses around. The ashen man shielded his eyes and stepped back, as if afraid of the light itself. Giradin glanced back and forth, trying to figure out where the light was coming from, but it seemed every time he moved so too did the light.

Fulk stared up at Giradin with confused eyes. "What the Hell?"

Is that coming from me?

Giradin held out his right hand and saw that, indeed, it was his own body which gave off the white glow. Shining rays emanated from his flesh, cutting through the darkness.

Giradin took a step closer to the ashen man, and the creature backed away from him again, a pained hiss escaping its throat, along with puffs of smoke. Giradin couldn't explain it, but he was determined to take full advantage of it. He drew nearer to the ashen man, every step forcing the creature back. As he progressed, he grew more and more confident, and started to walk faster. Finally, he broke into a run, charging the spirit.

Just before his shining fingers could reach the monster, it turned and fled, disappearing into the shadows out of sight.

With the monster gone, Giradin turned back to Fulk and reached out to help him to his feet. The white glow intensified for a moment as the murderer touched him and Giradin pulled him up. He heard the popping sound again, and Fulk's wrists filled back out, the bones snapping back into place.

Fulk and Giradin stared at each other in confusion, both asking silent questions and knowing the other had no answers for them.

All around, the citizens of Elekvaz emerged from their home, gazing at Giradin with dumbstruck awe.

"Mother of God..." one of them whispered, "I think he's a saint!"