Demon Hunters

The Inquisitor IX

Lucas carefully rested his weight on his leg. He was satisfied to notice that the pain was quite manageable. It had been only two days, but he could walk almost normally – evidently, the shamans' medicines had worked wonders. Still, he decided to rely on the makeshift crutch both to relieve the strain on his leg and, more importantly, to lull Matthew and Björn into a false sense of security. Lucas looked at the demon hunter, who had brought him to a small copse nearby. Apparently, he had buried the inquisitors who had died, including Magnus, here in small, unassuming graves. It was the dead of the night, and the woods were silent.

"For someone who denounces the teachings of the church, it is quite surprising to see that you bothered to bury the dead like this," Lucas huffed.

Matthew shook his head.

"This has nothing to do with religion. As I said, your church's teachings are originally based on sound logic: burying the dead in the ground makes sure that they won't attract any dangerous animals, quell the spread of diseases, and even nourish the land."

Lucas sighed. The demon hunter sure was certain in his viewpoint. The notion made the inquisitor uneasy, though he didn't want to admit it. He decided to move on.

"Very well. Now, then. About this proof of yours? You did tell me today would be the day."

"Of course. My master shall demonstrate to you what he showed me."

While they had been talking, Björn had been preparing a small fire. Lucas watched on as the man now threw a handful of some strange powder to the fire. The flames became green, bathing the nearby vegetation in their ghastly light. Just as Lucas was about to ask Matthew about the significance of this parlour trick, he was shocked to notice small balls of light emerging from the ground – more specifically, directly from the graves.

"What is this...?" he managed to utter.

A melancholic smile had formed on Matthew's face. He reached for his belt and pulled out a strange knife, seemingly crafted from a bone. Strange runic symbols had been carved along its length – and they were now emitting in a mysterious glow.

"These are the 'spirits' I was talking about. These are what remains when the body dies."

"You mean to tell me that these are the souls of my men?"

Matthew shrugged his shoulders.

"I suppose you could call them that. They are the life force of these men, now lacking an ego. As I mentioned, though, they won't be going to either Heaven or Hell."

Lucas couldn't tear his eyes away from these spectral entities. It was difficult to describe their appearance, as they were rather vague in their existence. That is, they were drifting in and out of this world, seemingly at random. They seemed to be glowing, yet they did not give off any heat, nor did they seem to create shadows. A thin, wispy trail connected the spirits to the ground, and most likely, to the bodies of the inquisitors resting under the ground.

"But... What happens to them, then? Do they just... linger here?" Lucas asked.

"No, not really. Given time, they would have detached from their former bodies and begun wondering about, seeking out other spirits in order to merge with them."

Lucas's arms were trembling, a fact he tried to hide by leaning on his crutch. He had been careful not to eat anything that had been offered to him in an effort to make sure that his mind wasn't addled by any hallucinogens the shamans might have tried to use on him. Yet here he was, witnessing something that was clearly supernatural, his mind completely clear. The orbs flickered, growing brighter, as if to mock him.