Kuro: A Land in Eternal Night

Chapter 14.3: The Village

It felt like an eternity, walking to the doorway, not knowing what waited on the other side. I could feel my heart racing, and I thought I would explode. Then I felt it – Searra's warm hands closing in upon mine. It was something I had learned to look forward to. My fears left me, all but forgotten in the moment. Being with Searra took me back to the happy times I had spent with my father and mother, when I was safe and had nothing to worry about. I felt empowered, the boy's hand on my left, Searra's on my right.

Searra always seemed to know what to do at any given time. I smiled at her that time as I always had. This time around, she did not smile back. Puzzled, I looked at her and she shook her head.

"There is evil here, Vannah. No matter what happens, whatever we see beyond this door, promise me you will be firm and eradicate it. As priestesses of Talthys, we must make the ultimate sacrifice, pay whatever price is demanded of us, to further the cause of light."

I nodded, my resolve as firm as hers. The candlelit room made a great metaphor for us. Bearers of the light, however weak, standing against the all-encompassing darkness.

I took a deep breath. I imagined all sort of demons beyond the door.

Searra took the first step. For brief moment, I was transfixed by fear, but I dismissed it hastily. The arrogance inside me would never let Searra have the last word. It would be Vannah, not Searra, who would become the greatest priestess in the history of Talthys. My body moved on its own, my legs crossing the barrier where the door and the light were.

We entered a small, square room, about twenty by twenty feet long and wide. Tiny candles lit the way: we had been right about that. An altar of stone stood in the middle, looking like it had been recently used. Various artifacts were laid upon the stone: a dagger, a gemstone, a golden goblet. A reddish substance ran around the side of the altar. I had no real desire to ascertain exactly what it was, though I had a very good idea.

Kenta let go of my hand and walked to the middle of the room, and I realized something.

The incessant chirping, the tingling that had bothered me earlier. It was from this boy that the sense of evil had been emanating. The boy turned to us as we approached. In the darkness, lit only by the candles, it was difficult to make out his features. He appeared to be smiling. No, grinning widely from ear to ear. I had an odd feeling. The oscillating contrasts between the stark desolation of the squalid village outside and the opulence of the feast inside the village hall, and then between the darkness, ever the darkness, and the boy's mirth.

"I remember everything now. I sent the letter requesting help." The boy's voice was innocent, innocuous.

"And what is it that we can assist you with?" Searra's voice cut through the darkness and the silence in challenge. Always calm and collected, I had yet to see anything really faze Searra, though I knew, right then in that moment, that she was afraid.

A long silence. It seemed like an eternity. The light of the burning candles was the only thing I could focus on. My hands gripped my pouch firmly.

"You can help us with your deaths," the answer came, and with it a long, drawn-out wall of sound. Laughter. Mocking laughter that came from a thousand voices.

This was a Village of the Damned. The villagers were long gone, victims of an unknown plague, or malaise. But the village continued existing from beyond, preying upon the living. For as long as it existed, it would know no rest.

We looked around us. Already they came, dozens of bodies, moving of their own volition, their unsteady gait clumsy but purposeful. They were clearly dead, their decaying flesh almost falling off their lifeless bodies, barely managing to cling to their bones. Some dreadful force was causing the bodies to animate again, to spring to un-life. They filed through the door, blocking our only means of escape. The little boy continued to stand in the middle, laughing.

Searra sprung to action, her hands deftly reaching into her pouch, the words to the sealcraft upon her lips. "Talanos, Omikami Tasukaru." Her hands glowed as the seals reacted to her words. It was a high level seal of purification, difficult to cast under normal circumstances, even harder to cast in battle conditions. It was awe-inspiring. Her hands flew, holding two seals per hand. A priestess' skill determined the "number" of seals that could be cast concurrently. Searra was casting four high-level sealing spells at the same time. The seals flew from her fingers and landed in the four corners of the room. A bright light flashed, the Goddess Essence was activating, emanating now from the newly formed seals. The undead bodies dropped to the ground, dead once more. But the little boy was nowhere to be seen.

Searra turned to me. "The seal of purification is now active in this room and we are safe. This village is locked in an eternal time loop. It will keep replaying the events that have occurred until just before it was engulfed by the evil that now holds it captive. The boy is the source of the evil in this place. We must find him and seal him."

I ran outside the room, desperate to prove myself. It was my weakness that had led to this. I had been blinded by my affection for the boy. The warning signs had been there all along – the incessant chirping, the tingling in my senses. But my judgement was clouded; emotion came ahead of logic and clear thinking. It was an embarrassment for me. I had wanted to prove to Searra then and there that I was ready to surpass her, and yet, here I was, making foolhardy decisions.

Impulsively, I ran out of the hallway, then stopped as I caught myself this time. I needed to calm myself, collect my thoughts and come up with a plan. The demon could not have gotten very far. What was his aim? This was a force that had imposed its will upon an entire village. It would not relinquish its power readily.

As I moved past the village hall with its food and wine, the facade began to crumble before my very eyes. Like a watercolor painting washed away by the rain, the elements of the picture that we had witnessed just earlier began to swirl and mingle. It had been illusion all along. Once the truth had been exposed, everything began to dissolve. The picture faded, leaving behind the scene as it truly was. The wood table was rotting and maggots squirmed within the now empty bowls and goblets.