Lost souls

2 ☾ Fairytale armor

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Raor

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The curse binds me to the very ghost who caused it, a restless soul clinging to the world of the living due to a visceral refusal of death, blaming me for causing it.

Minor detail: it wasn't me.

The culprit is a Greater Demon named Eshmodath, and since my goal is to kill him, I need to have my blade blessed. Otherwise, it would be impossible to defeat a Demon of his rank.

"The flayed fool wants to know how old you were when it happened."

"Nine. Now I'm twenty-five. Do you want to calculate how long I have left to live?"

The candle on its head extinguishes, its teeth clattering rapidly. I'm good at using my sharp tongue to annoy others. I remain composed; after all, I must give the impression of being serious.

"Never seen such arrogance," hisses the Confessor. "I'd wish you to drop dead, but it's not within my role. The conditions are these: I'll bless your sword only if you perform a deed of moral value. A heroic feat would be better."

Holy Dragons, yesterday I boasted about not being a hero and flat-out refused the Human Kingdom's plea for help! I also insulted the messenger... damn, my usual bad luck.

The candle, which had reignited, is now extinguished again. "There must be someone who asked for your help recently."

"There is someone..."

And in the end, I come to the conclusion that I'm going to make a fool of myself. I'll look like someone who enjoyed showing off and then changed their mind, tail between legs. Blessed Wyverns, all of them to me.

If the enemies are only Lesser Demons, being weaker and more vulnerable than Greater Demons, I can eliminate them without the aid of a blessed blade.

Once the job is done, I'll return to the Confessor, he'll see the purity in my heart, and then... I'll move on to the next phase. It seems light-years away, an unattainable dream.

The next morning, I walk with my backpack over my shoulders along the gravel path, stepping with my brown leather boots on the wild grass and dead flowers.

When the map led me close to Ocleodathe, the capital of the kingdom, I was surprised by the sudden climate change between the warm forest of Talanymphs and the cold dampness of Taladaoine. I look up, searching for a ray of sun, and my hopes are dashed by the turbulent sky.

I have passed the Lake of Moon, and if memory serves, there are agricultural fields and small farms... however, the few thatched-roof cottages appear uninhabited, left to their desolate fate.

After reflecting on the fact that there is no soul alive in the area, the sound of a galloping horse reaches my ears.

The hooves draw closer gradually and incessantly; the traveler riding the steed comes from behind, slows down, and matches my pace. I ignore him completely, assuming he'll soon pass me by and go on his way.