Children of Affliction

The sun shined cheerfully on the dilapidated cathedral, but something was dreadfully wrong. Luca could feel it. It hung in the air and stained the ancient stone. It seeped deep into the soil of this forgotten place. He dismounted his horse at the edge of the wood, tying her reins around a tree branch. She was a fine steed, sleek and muscular with a chestnut coat. Luca hadn’t named her yet. He was indecisive when it came to names. The half-blood turned his scarlet eyes on the cathedral and the surrounding buildings. It was some sort of cloister with the simpleness of a small abbey surrounding the grandiose architecture of the moss-covered cathedral.

His black riding boots clacked sharply on the cobblestone as he approached the building, his eyes drawn to the statue that sat front and center as one came to worship. Luca recognized the statue instantly by her voluminous coils, full lips, and extravagant armor as Queen Herratta, the last crusader queen. She stood with a puffed chest and a cocky grin, her hands resting on the pommel of an upright great sword. Making this cloister older than Luca, which was not an easy feat. A flash of gruesome and some oddly pleasant memories scrolled through his mind, remembering the final years of the crusade. The inquisitor took off his tricorn hat and bowed his head. Queen Herratta was one of the few proponents of treating the offspring of the Afflicted with mercy. An unpopular opinion, then and now. He smoothed back his messy black hair as he replaced the hat on his head and noticed someone was watching him.

An old woman, bent and grey in a cleric’s robe, watched him from the shadow of one of the abbey buildings with a strange smile stretched across her face. Luca raised a hand in greeting and the woman beckoned him over with a gnarled finger. The dreadful feeling still whispered in the back of his mind as he approached the woman. As he got closer, he noticed the symbol on her robe, a bundle of wheat bound by a ribbon. The symbol of the Lady of Life, Lorcia. The robe itself was dirty, which did no favors for making the woman more approachable. Her eyes were wide and a sickly yellow, like a cornered animal, as she greeted him.

“Good tidings, good tidings dear child. Yes, a child I think, like me,” she rasped out, waving a wrinkled hand in no particular direction for what Luca assumed was emphasis. The gesture was odd. Despite the woman’s peculiar mannerisms, Luca inclined his head in polite acknowledgement.

“As are we all children of the Trisphere, Sister. Forgive me for asking but your cloister here seems ill attended and empty. Where are the younger acolytes?” he asked, his eyes taking another sweep of the empty courtyard and crumbling buildings.

“Left, left, all gone, save for my mother and my siblings. We take shelter in this stone.” She said gleefully, rapping on the wall of the abbey with her knuckles. Luca’s brow furrowed as he studied the woman. She blinked at him innocently but her smile, now seeming almost grotesque, never left her face.

“Can you take me to see them?” he asked hesitantly, the dreadful whispers growing louder in the back of his mind.

“Yes, of course, good, good, we are all children here,” the old woman agreed, waving for him to follow as she hobbled down the length of the wall to a pair of large, heavy wooden doors. The gateway to the abbey proper. Luca followed, his red gaze now darting to every corner, every nook, and every cranny. As the woman grabbed one of the round iron handles, Luca moved to help her but stopped when she wrenched it open with surprising strength. The ear-splitting squeak of the rusty hinges made the half-blood cringe, but the woman didn’t seem to notice as she happily shuffled into the abbey courtyard.

“Sister, you haven’t told me your name. I’m Luca.” he said, purposefully leaving out his surname and title. A true acolyte of Lorcia would have recognized him as an inquisitor of Hadrius from the grim colors he wore and the pendant that was attached to the side of his hat, which boasted the Lord of Disorder’s symbol. But this woman had made no mention of it.

“Mother calls me Trevia, on account I’m the third of her children,” Trevia explained as they walked slowly through the abbey courtyard. To their left, a reasonably sized long building, what Luca presumed to be the acolyte’s quarters, sat decorated in warm brown brick. To their right, the refectory sat with its doors ajar so Luca could identify the long tables and benches for dining. The courtyard itself, which normally would have been ardently tended by the acolytes, was overgrown. Vines snaked their way up the statues and stone furniture that dotted the courtyard, and the grass came up to Luca’s shin. Directly ahead of them, was the largest of the three buildings of the abbey with at least three stories.

“And your mother, what is her name?” the inquisitor continued. He silently scolded himself for leaving his inquisitor’s kit attached to his horse. All he had on him was his rapier, stiletto, and pistol with one silver bullet. The woman again waved dismissively at the question.

“Just Mother. She’s very wise, very smart, oh she’ll be so glad to have company,” she chirped, a veritable ray of sunshine amid the morose abandoned structures. They came to the double doors of the abbey’s largest building. Along the walls on either side, depictions of Lorcia and various spirits were painted along the edges of thin glass windowpanes, now dusty and fogged from neglect. Dark vines curled up the walls, as if the Lady of Light could not reach her worshippers here. With a hum, Trevia pushed the door open and beckoned for Luca to follow.

Stepping through the threshold, Luca was immediately met with the stench of rot and mold in coordination with a few other very unsavory aromas. The half-blood scrunched up his nose in disgust, his dark crimson eyes surveying what appeared to be a ruined library. Shelves lined the walls and split the large room into sections. Loose pages littered the floor and grim and grit crunched and squelched under Luca’s boots as he trailed the old woman. They weaved through the maze of musty bookshelves and forgotten decorations until they came to the center of the grand library where a massive, round oak desk sat. In the center was a large, precarious looking pile of books and trash. And sat perched atop it like a great vulture was a hunched woman with withered grey skin and dark, straw-like hair. She wore a simple brown robe, frayed and tattered with no shoes. Her hands and feet were talons and so large that she had to sit with them facing away from her, lest she cut herself. A hooked nose sat below a gleaming yellow eye- full of hate and mistrust.

“You bring someone…someone new?” asked the woman atop the mountain of books, tilting her head to the side ever so slowly. Her voice was high and nasally but with a dangerous edge that made Luca flex his hand on instinct. Before Trevia could respond, Luca gave another polite bow and spoke clearly.

“Luca de Barazzo, inquisitor of Hadrius. I see you’ve been inflicted with the Hag’s Curse. A terrible fate,” he commented sympathetically. The hag sneered, her teeth sharp and rotted.

“I see my foolish daughter has brought the enemy right into our home. She will be punished,” Mother said, and Luca could feel the rage brimming under her calm demeanor. Trevia felt it too and shrunk into the shadow of the bookshelf behind her. “Well, if we’re to have a meeting, might as well make sure the whole family is here. Girls!” The hag squawked out the last word and a few seconds later a rush of shuffling and clattering approached the center of the library. One by one, different old women perched themselves on top of the surrounding bookshelves, all staring intently at Luca. There were four in total, including Trevia, and all waited for their mother to continue.

“So, inquisitor,” she hissed out the title, “Give me one good reason why my girls and I shouldn’t rip you to shreds and feast on your bones.” A sardonic smile flitted onto Luca’s face as he removed his hat and looked the woman in the eye.

“I’m afraid you’d find my meat lacking. I am the spawn of a vampire,” he said, carefully scanning the room as he did so. The daughters exchanged a surprised look. There was a moment of silence and then the hag threw her head back in a raucous cackle, the sound amplified by the empty space of the forgotten library.

“So you are!” she agreed with a bemused expression, “And what is a half-blood doing wearing a symbol of the god of death on his hat? Moreover, who in the Void let a vampling become a holy man in the first place!?” she exclaimed, and another round of hyena-like cackling overtook her. Luca waited patiently for the laughter to subside though a measure of irritation had risen into his chest. Finally, the hag wiped a tear away and nodded.

“I see now why Trevia brought you here instead of killing you outright. A child of Affliction, the same as us. Though we do not have the same luck, it would seem,” she added at the end and Luca sensed the brewing resentment taking over the humor. Luca put his hat back on and nodded his acknowledgement.

“I was fortunate that the crusader that found me did not throw me down a well like they usually do with Afflicted infants,” he conceded, and a harsh snort came from the hag in response. She rose to her full height, which admittedly was not much, but the combination of a wild head of dirty hair and animalistic claws made her a fearsome sight, nonetheless.

“Crusaders,” she echoed with a scoff, “I served the crusaders, once. I was a healer, an alchemist. They had hired me to treat their sick and injured, which I did with competence and pride.” She was looking among her daughters, talking to them as much as to Luca. Her daughters stared back at her, hanging onto every word with wide, yellow eyes and bizarre smiles on their wrinkled lips.

“One day, our camp was overrun by enemy forces. I was captured, thanks to the oh glorious crusaders’ ineptness and taken before a powerful witch who had commanded the raid. She demanded my fealty and I, naively believing the crusaders would come save me, refused her. She cursed me, as our esteemed guest has pointed out, and I slowly turned into a monster in the following days. When the crusaders finally raided the lair of the witch and found me, was I rewarded for my loyalty? Was I praised for giving up my youth and beauty and sanity!?” she asked, now gazing directly into Luca’s eyes. Though she posed a question, Luca already knew the end to this all too familiar story. The hag grimaced.

“No. I had to claw my way out that day, or else I would have known the silver bite of a crusader’s blade. Just like all those unfortunate enough to be cursed or infected. We’re all monsters. The only difference now is inquisitors hunt us, not crusaders,” she finished pointedly, holding the half-blood’s gaze. Luca made no comment on the story, instead looking around the library for the signs he had been looking for since he arrived at the cloister.

“So. What say you, inquisitor?” she once again snarled out the title, as if it even being on her tongue was revolting.

“Where is the clergy of this cloister, Mother?” Luca asked calmly and a defiant look entered the hag’s eyes.

“The tenets of Lorcia say to offer food, water, and shelter to the weary and the needy. My daughters and I arrived just that, weary and in need of help. Your sacred sisters and priestesses denied us. Threatened us. So we took what we needed,” she replied, letting the silence after her final sentence speak for itself. Luca suddenly realized what the dreadful feeling that had been haunting him since his arrival was. The desecration of a holy site, the murder of holy folk, and the disruption of harmony. The half-blood swept his cloak back, revealing the hilt of his rapier and once again flexed his dominant hand.

“You know I can’t let the murder of priestesses of Lorcia go unanswered. Where are their bodies?” demanded Luca with a hard edge in his voice. The old women perched on the bookshelves surrounding them began to slowly crawl down the flat sides, their yellow eyes never leaving him, like overgrown and withered lizards. Luca’s eyes darted from figure to figure, his muscles tensing.

“Some of the sisters are still here with us, undead, and those that were lacking in hospitality made up for it in…nutrition,” replied the hag coldly, slowly advancing on the inquisitor herself. A jolt racked Luca’s body as he realized that the “daughters” of the hag all wore clerical robes. They were corrupted, under the hag’s control. A low moan behind Luca told him Trevia was joining her sisters and he heard the shuffling of feet towards him. The half-blood quickly outstretched his hand in an upright claw shape, recalling the divine words of Hadrius.

“Darcellica Upa Thex!”

A dense ball of black fog formed in his palm, caged by his pale fingers. In one fluid motion, he flung it towards the floor, engulfing the entire library in an instant. Shadowy fog rolled over the hag and her daughters, who cried in shock, and enveloped everything around them. Luca silently stepped forward, deliberately stepping lightly so Trevia wouldn’t notice his absence. A frustrated shriek and the violent stirring of the fog behind him told the half-blood his timing was impeccable, no doubt dodging a fatal strike. Despite his vampiric lineage however, Luca was just as blind as his enemy. Instead, he slowed his breathing and focused on his hearing. Another gift from his undead blood, every step and shuffle the hags took was amplified. He heard their violent grumbles and ragged, fearful breaths.

The inquisitor almost seemed to glide towards the blinded Trevia, a phantom of his own making. In a silver flash, his rapier pierced through the small of her back and through her heart. The sound of burning flesh and screams pierced the tense silence before the old woman fell limp on Luca’s blade. A resounding cascade of grief-stricken screams responded in kind. A bright light suddenly illuminated the dark fog, hovering in place. Luca pulled the blade from the hag’s body and watched the light cautiously. Then he smelled sulfur in the air. A vicious stream of fire roared towards him, grazing the inquisitor as he dove to the ground. Merciless heat clawed and ate at him, forcing him to rip off his cloak and throw it to the ground with a shout.

“I’ll burn the eyes out of your sockets!” Mother screeched vengefully, sending another horizontal pillar of flame to where Luca had been standing just a moment before. His breathing became haggard as he stumbled through the library, tripping over unseen book carts and bumping into shelves. He ducked into one of the many rows of bookshelves, hoping to vanish amongst their dusty pages. No sooner than he had ducked into the shadows of the library, a powerful gust of wind pushed the fog away, the thick clouds piling along the walls of the library. The hag was using her magic to clear the space.

Luca swore to himself and crouched down, his eyes frantically searching the dim room for signs of the corrupted sisters. But it was quiet. Eerily quiet. He stalked between the shelves with his rapier at the ready, listening intently. A subtle scrap of claws against wood caused him to whip around, just in time for one of the daughters to slam him into the marble floor. His head cracked painfully against the floor, and he felt hot breath on his face and claws at his neck. Dazed, he scrabbled desperately at his belt for his pistol, cocking it and jamming it into the sister’s hip. He felt the claws pierce his neck as he pulled the trigger, an ear-splitting scream accompanying the deafening gunshot. The sister stumbled backward, black, corrupted blood pooling out of her wound.

Luca leapt to his feet and charged her, thrusting the silver blade right through her heart. This time, only a pained wheeze accompanied the strike as the creature died. A fireball crashed through the shelf to his left, narrowly missing the inquisitor as he pulled his rapier free. His eyes stung with smoke and Luca realized that the library would soon be up in flames. He had to finish this quickly. Wiping the blood from his neck and blinking the stars from his eyes, he used the smoke to vanish, searching for Mother. He didn’t have to look long.

“I thought vampire spawn were supposed to be powerful!” taunted the hag from somewhere on the far side of the room, “I can smell your blood, it smells like all the Afflicted in their last breath!” Luca circled back to the central area, now empty of hags and daughters. “Why fight for them? They’ll turn on you once they’ve used you up and you’ll just be a monster like the rest of us!” Mother continued to shriek. Luca pinpointed her location, her voice bouncing off the walls and wood of the library. He crouched low to the ground to avoid the smoke, a predator with the scent of his prey.

Silent as a shadow, he swept through the maze-like rows of books until he found her, prowling like a cat on top of a row of shelves. He watched as her glowing yellow eyes probed the rows, looking desperately for her enemy. The inquisitor had one shot to get it right. One misstep and she could open up his guts then and there. As he took a step towards her, the sound of feet slapping against stone jerked his head to the left and he felt a sharp, burning pain in his left shoulder. The last sister had clamped onto him with bear trap teeth. Pain shot through his entire left side as they grappled with each other, thudding into a bookshelf behind him. The hag jumped at the noise but watched with gleeful satisfaction, positive her creation would win.

Luca wrestled desperately with the old woman, the pain in his shoulder growing worse with every second. Her strength was incredible, it felt like he was grappling with two grown men at once. He tried to position his rapier to gore her side, but she slashed his arm, ribbons of blood unfurling as the silver weapon clattered to the floor. She had control of his other arm as well, preventing him from grabbing the stiletto still on his belt. The world around him began to spin. He was losing too much blood. Luca felt his knees buckle and he slumped against the bookcase, giving the corrupted holy woman the dominant position. Luca stared at his blood on the white marble. A wave of disgust took him as he realized what he had to do.

With the instinct of millennia of vampiric generations before him, Luca grabbed the collar of the sister’s robes and wrenched her towards him. Her flesh was warm and soft as he bit into her neck. Suddenly, he lost control. Though the blood was corrupted, it felt like giving water to a man dying of thirst. The half-blood couldn’t remember the last time he fed, and dirty water was still water. The struggling of the woman quickly ceased, and she became silent. Luca’s heartbeat pounded in his ears. He could hear the distant screaming of someone, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered now that the sweet ichor flowed through him.

His mind was clear. Incredibly clear. He pulled away from the vessel. She was useless now. Luca flung her corpse down the aisle with the ease of a child throwing a doll in boredom. The sister tumbled away like an empty bag. Luca turned his gaze on the hag, who he was sure had been screaming before. He saw now that the hate in her eyes had given way to fear. Something about that amused him. The smoke filling the room only tickled his eyes now. He’d rather be done with this business. Mother’s eyes darted towards the exit. Only for a millisecond. But that was all Luca needed.

With incredible strength in his legs, he jumped towards her and grabbed her by throat, slamming her into one of the many bookshelves on the other side. The cracking and splintering of wood filled his ears and grim satisfaction filled his heart as he saw the blood welling from her scalp, dripping down her grey forehead. She clawed at his arm, ripping his sleeves to shreds. But the deep gashes she made with her claws were healing the instant she made them. With one arm, he threw her to the right, to the center of the library where they met. She crashed into the engraved circular desk, breaking it in two. The fire raged heavy now and the flames were slowly crawling their way towards the pair.

Luca walked slowly towards the hag, indifferent to the inferno raging around them. She was clinging to life, her bones broken in several places. Abject terror was painted across her bloody face, and she stammered something that sounded like pleading.

“Mother, you asked me why I’m lucky, why they let me live, why I fight for them?” Luca asked in a casual tone. Something at the back of his mind was begging him to stop, wanting this to not be the truth. But this was him as much as any other part was. Mother said nothing now and the half-blood could tell she was fading.

“It’s because you need a monster to fight monsters.”

***

Luca blinked in confusion outside the burning abbey. The twilight sun casted long shadows on the cathedral and surrounding forest. The abbey still burned in front of him, making the surrounding darkness starker. Luca patted himself down, checking for the injuries that he sustained, but there was nothing. Even his rapier and hat, which had fallen during the fighting, were now on him. A sick feeling twisted his gut as he remembered what happened. Even sicker still was the fact that he felt energized, still benefitting from the corrupted woman’s blood.

The inquisitor watched the fire for a long moment. The stone would stop it from spreading to the forest. And the flames would cleanse the taint of this place. Perhaps it was Lorcia’s vengeance, one of the elemental aspects of life that fell under her domain. Cleansing fire. And what of him? He turned away from the flames, walking back to his horse. Revulsion ran through his body. It had been so long since he fed. I was forced to, he kept telling himself. But how could he deny? This was why the Temple of Hadrius decided to make him an inquisitor. The hag was right. Even after all of his decades serving as a force to vanquish monsters, he was still one himself. A child of Affliction.