Lera pushed some red strands of hair from her face and surveyed the Deepest, who was also panting, though it sounded more like the gurgling of a bottle.

  It can’t be finished yet, can he? she wondered. In response, dark, misty clouds flowed out from the monster and billowed toward her.

  Quickly, Lera reignited her whip and channeled the light and fury of her soul into the weapon. The whip lashed forward and dispersed the clouds, the Lucidity bursting from it and pushing the evil away. The Guilt was powerful, more powerful than she was, yet also erratic. Its Lucidity was too widespread and unfocused, allowing her whip to win the battle against the advancing misty swirls.

  “You despicable spawn of shadows, you will never overwhelm me with that!” she shouted at him.

  Her whip hissed in front of her as it twitched and coiled, spreading her Lucidity and keeping the mists dispersed. Slowly, she took a bolder step forward, then another. The purple streaks her weapon traced through the air flared with her fury. Steam clouds rose before her, and she stepped forward again.

  I can do this! I will save my people, just as I vowed. There have only been minor setbacks, and despite everything, I can still win! I should not have underestimated myself so much. I should not have let it tear down my mental fortification! she thought, baring her teeth.

  The Guilt still stood far off, however, and with each advance, with each lash of her whip painting the air around her crimson, her knees grew weaker and her arms more feeble.

  Cruel laughter echoed as more dark mist billowed from the Deepest, starting to push back her shimmering traces and glowing strikes.

  Its mental attacks intensified alongside its corrupted Lucidity. Images forced their way into her mind ever more insistently, long buried yet not entirely forgotten.

  The fog began to push her back, handbreadth by handbreadth. Lera felt sweat bead on her forehead and let out a scream, then began to assist the coils of her whip with rapid movements of her arm. It cost her additional physical strength, though it eased the strain on her concentration. Once again, she was able to extend the area her whip covered, filled with her Lucidity.

  One more step.

  One more step.

  And another…

  A lance hissed toward the Guilt, cloaked in white light, then a second. The glow extinguished many steps before the Nightmare, and the weapons remained suspended in the air as if frozen in time. She could not see which Hunters had thrown them, yet she felt pride once more.

  They are still fighting, despite their shattered morale, despite the horrors they have faced in this land of misery and pain.

  The fog enveloped the lances, and through the glowing, hissing trails her whip carved into the air, she saw them twist and then shoot away from the Guilt with blinding speed. Cries rang out, and Lera could not stop herself from looking around.

  Aldred’s head had been struck by one of the spears. She saw only briefly as his body vanished into the shapes and patterns she had come to dread so deeply. His uniform fell to the ground, horrifyingly unscathed.

  Nuta had been pierced as well. The force of the lance hurled her backward and pinned her against one of the blade-like rocks, where she lay twitching and bleeding. More cries echoed around her, thrown back by the stone walls in mockery. Lera forced herself to refocus on her fight. She had to.

  They’re waking up, all of them… I brought them here because I thought I had everything under control. That this was the best chance. That I could solve the secret of these monsters… That I would become the Order’s heroine… And now they are waking up, one after another, because of me…

  Her knees gave way, and she struggled to keep her whip moving. The fog pressed her lucid domain back further and further while fresh cries shattered her mental fortifications.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Lera screamed, yet it was futile. The mists were gaining ground. Fatigue dulled her senses. She felt the smooth stone beneath her boots as her whip began to flail helplessly against the fog, like a candle flame in a storm.

  It was almost over. She would soon awaken herself. Maybe that was not so bad. If she returned without memories someday, then perhaps Cal would be back too. She could find him again, feel his presence once more. She would not remember the Guilt and would be free.

  A smile spread across her face, and she relaxed. As she tried to let her whip fall, she suddenly saw the Possessed struggling through the mists behind the Guilt. The black fog tried to smother her as well, yet the glow of her necklace seemed to offer primitive protection.

  What… what is she doing?

  “Nia, you’re finally here… I’ve been looking for you! Come, come with me. I will take you and show you what suffering and guilt truly are…”

  Black tears streaked the Possessed’s face. She trembled violently, yet moved forward with determination. The stones encased in the fine network of golden chains around her neck shone more intensely. Though she knew they carried the Light of the Seekers, infused with humility and love for the Circle of Radiance through prayers and rituals, Lera was stunned by how effective they were against the mist. Yet she was more surprised that the broken woman tried to fight the Guilt at all. Had she trained the Possessed so well?

  No. Of course not. She’s not on our side; she’s only on her own side. A piece of shit from the darkness. Don’t forget that again… Lera reminded herself, though her eyes faltered and her strikes weakened, the glow of her whip beginning to fade.

  She had never endured for so long and was surprised she still had any strength left at all.

  The possessed young woman finally reached the Guilt, quivering with hatred.

  “Come on, let me take you with me! Let me show you all the pain in the world you desire so much…” the creature taunted, spreading its arms toward the twisted young woman, inciting her into an embrace of suffering.

  The Possessed roared, her face contorted with rage and horror. Lera expected the Deepest to just rip her apart, but with unexpected speed the young woman leapt forward and thrust her hand into the Guilt’s abdomen. The stones around her neck flared brighter than ever. She screeched and screamed, pulled her hand back, and struck the monstrosity again. And again, eviscerating it with every strike.

  Rotten, stinking intestines splattered everywhere, covering the Possessed, bathing her in a blackness she probably loved.

  The Deepest let out a surprised shriek and froze mid-motion, too slow to even react to any of the attacks, likely exhausted from the battle as much as Lera herself. Then it made no sound at all.

  The mists vanished with a hiss, and Lera’s whip went out as she struggled to keep hold of it before the rope fell limply to the ground. Dazed, she watched the Possessed kneel over the Guilt’s carcass, still beating it furiously while dark blood continued to splatter across her face. The glow of the necklace seemed to have driven her mad, but even the powerful stones could not stop the rage.

  One last time, her blood-soaked hand plunged into the rotting, fading flesh. Then she stopped, staring at the fallen Nightmare with lifeless eyes.

  For a moment, she looked like a woman grieving over someone she had lost, desperate and broken.

  Then she looked up and glanced toward Lera. A broad, delighted grin spread across her face, and her red eyes glowed with alien delight.

  “Exorcist Lera, I’ve got it! I’ve got it! I was such a good girl, wasn’t I? Please tell me I did well, please… I need you to tell me I did well...”

  Her voice trembled, and her features relaxed slightly as she lowered her gaze, no longer meeting Lera’s eyes.

  Lera could hardly believe it. She sighed in relief.

  They had won.

  They had won, because she had trained that bitch so well.

  I will definitely keep you now…

  The Possessed rose, swaying, and approached her, her clenched fists still trembling.

  Lera did not know what to do. For a moment, there was doubt. Would this corrupt witch attack her? Yet what could she do? The necklace was still intact, and although her Hunters were battered, too many of them remained standing. The bitch had resisted the Light, yes, but she was clearly at her limit as well.

  There was no reason to worry.

  As the Possessed knelt before her and lowered her head, Lera sighed again and wiped the blood from her lips, remnants of the battle. She looked at it and saw purple streaks mingled with crimson.

  I have to get that healed. Fuck. It really struck at my mental core…

  The Possessed remained kneeling in silence, shivering. She would not do anything foolish.

  “You’ve done well, bitch. You’ve earned a break. If we make it back to Immesh, you can take a bath and wash off that reeking blood,” Lera said, striving to sound authoritative once more.

  “Thank you, Exorcist Lera. I serve you gladly,” the Possessed replied hollowly.

  Lera took another slow breath, her lungs now burning and exhaustion creeping into her limbs.

  Then the Possessed suddenly flinched and clutched her throat with a cry of pain, coughing out her own purple blood.

  “What’s wrong?” Lera asked weakly, sounding more concerned than she intended.

  No. You’re not falling for the act of a Possessed again. Not again.

  Her vision wavered, and she was almost willing to give in to exhaustion to recover her strength, when the necklace around the Possessed woman’s neck came loose and clattered to the ground.