According to Levanna, she and Fulk narrowly evaded Mujahid's search party.

Garlic, onions, frogs, wormwood, safflower, mugwort, yarrow, fresh placenta, and a blood sacrifice to strengthen the spell. Fulk sat tied to a chair in a circle in the center, with countless symbols and runes from different cultures and magical traditions painted in the sacrifice's blood as Levanna chanted for hours on end, day after day.

Fulk was denied water to drink, until the thirst became unbearable. Against even his own will, he struggled and fought against the bonds on his wrists, ankles, and waist. His face turned red and he roared with rage each time Levanna began chanting again. He shouted threats at her, to tear her limb from limb and cast her into the pits of Hell. The ropes rubbed his wrists raw, until he bled.

"Witch!" He screamed, in voices clearly not his own. "Your black magic shall be your undoing! Your soul is black as sack-cloth, and shall be cast into the Abyss for what you've done! See not the innocent blood you spill? See not the harm you do? You cannot claim innocence, for your heart is hard as stone!"

Levanna would typically respond to these insults by striking Fulk's cheek with a thorny branch. Let the spirit experience pain and it might decide that it doesn't want human existence anymore.

In response to her efforts, blood poured like tears from Fulk's eyes, and black bile spewed forth from his mouth.

"Dashiel!" Levanna roared as she raised her staff high overhead. "If you are in there and can hear me, I need your help! Cast out the spirit which has taken hold of your long-time home and take back your rightful place in the heart of he who sold himself to your service!"

The response came back as a croak from Fulk's throat, "I cannot."

Damn it all!

Levanna cursed her luck. Whatever spirit Giradin had implanted in Fulk was far too strong even for other spirits to drive out. Even ones who had been there for years.

Seeing that she could neither overpower the spirit nor gain effective help from any other spirits, Levanna resorted to a spell she'd not used in many years. I'm sorry to say that I will not share with you the details of the spell. I dare not even think about those details, because the very thought that a human being could do this and speak about it as boldly and proudly as she did on the day that I interviewed her has been the source of countless nightmares. God forbid that anyone find this witch's grimoire and try the terrible things of which Levanna has written there, and I shall not make this account as a second grimoire in which one may learn the secrets of blackest magic.

I recall the witch's haunting laughter, sounding more like a hyena than a woman, as she mocked my disgusted face. "Oh, dear Christian," she said to me, "Surely your hands are not clean of any sin. In the Holy Land I'm sure you did many terrible things. What was that woman's name again? Yulia? Do the others know about what you did to her? Tell me truly, is what you did to her any better than what I did? Will you not spend countless sleepless nights contemplating your sin, and wondering how a God who is good could possibly forgive such a thing?"

Regardless of the details of the spell she cast upon Fulk that day, the result is the important part for the sake of continuing the story.

When Fulk awoke, he lay naked upon Levanna's bed, still bound by his wrists and ankles.

Levanna approached him and untied the bonds. "Good. You're finally awake," she said.

"What happened?" he asked, rubbing his forehead and running his fingers along the cuts Levanna's failed exorcism had left behind.

"The exorcism failed again," said the witch, bringing him a cup of water to drink. As he eagerly gulped down the water, she continued, "So, I cast a different spell, one to make all spirits within you dormant."

"All spirits?" Fulk asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes," she said, "All spirits. Fulk, when I peered into the depths of your soul I saw that there was not just one spirit within you, but many. Some are weak, and have hidden themselves away in the darkest recesses. One is strong, and has been within you for many years now. Then there is one more, far more powerful than all the others, who reigns over you now and has been slowly choking them out. My guess is there used to be many many more spirits within you."

"If it weren't for all I've seen recently, I'd call that bullshit," said Fulk. "But since I met you, things have just been too bizarre..."

Levanna shrugged. "The world is far darker when one lives with eyes open. Any light we carry within cannot chase away all the shadows around us."

Fulk rolled his eyes. "Yes, your philosophy is very cute. So, what the Hell do we do now?"

"You know what we do now," said Levanna.

Fulk stared blankly at her for a moment. "Is there no other way?"

Levanna smirked. "You can be so sweet sometimes, you know that? No. There is no other way. He must die."

Fulk groaned and held his head in both hands. "But the kid's innocent... Giradin never meant to hurt anyone. If you just spend five minutes with the boy you'll know he's good. A rare beacon of goodness in a rotten world."

"Beacons are nothing more than false hope, Fulk," said Levanna. "You feel around in the darkness, trying to find your way. Ahead you see a beacon of light, and you think it's your salvation. But as you run toward it, you feel the fields of briar bushes rising up to your waist, and the thorns tear your flesh. Even so, you keep struggling to reach the light, only to suffer greater and greater pain. Finally, just as the beacon seems within reach, you fall into the endless pit which the beacon itself has lured you into."

"I don't give a damn about your theology," Fulk hissed.

"Well, if you truly believe that Giradin is good, then why aren't you by his side, protecting him?"

"You know why!" Fulk snarled and pointed to the black veins in his wrist, which appeared to be writhing under his skin like snakes. "Because of this!"

"Then, might I suggest this?" Levanna said. "You go to his side and I go with you, but we travel always in plague doctor uniforms, with masks and all. We speak to no one who would recongize our voices. You watch Giradin. If his work appears to be good, then you protect him. But if you see that he is creating false hope for the damned, then strike him down and free yourself from the spirit which possesses you."

Before Fulk could argue further, both he and the witch heard the sound of approaching hoofbeats and voices.

"Goodness! Who lives out here?"

"I told you, the witch who took Fulk," came a low-voiced reply.

Fulk crept over to the nearest window and peered outside. "That's Mujahid... what's he doing here?"

"He's been told to kill you as a deserter," said Levanna. "Quick! With me... I've got a back way out they'll never find."