“Calm down, Rond!”

  Wattyson scolded him, following up with a bonk from the staff.

  “Breathe! And tell us clearly.”

  Rond flustered, snapped at Wattyson. His hands shaking yet gently rubbing his bonked head.

  “How clearly do you want me to tell?! I…,” he paused and took a few breaths. “It’s just weird. I know it’s a celebration yes, but by the clock’s hand it’s already four in the morning.”

  “I’m sure the family is just celebrating hard or something no? It is a miraculous recovery after all.”

  Rond paced back before replying, allowing spaces for Arlene to join in.

  “I know… I think so too, but everything in me is screaming there’s something wrong. Even if they are celebrating hard right now, the Elder is still a fragile old woman.”

  He was fidgeting before looking to both Arlene and Wattyson.

  “Can you two please go check on them with me? I won’t charge tonight’s fee.”

  Arlene perked up, raring to go. Already donning on her gear. She looked over to the ever stoic weirdo, Wattyson, for his decision. His hand was gripping tightly on his staff. That white staff looked about to break.

  “Alright,” sighed Wattyson, his gripping hand relaxed. “Come but stay close to us. You may be muscular and big but you and I both know you’re a damn pacifist by heart.”

  “Thanks! Don’t yer worry!” Rond bent to the side and picked up a round wooden shield, pale to his forearm size. “I will stay safely behind yall!”

  Wattyson released his tense shoulders. He turned to Arlene,

  “We’ll leave in five.”

  He lazily stumbled out of the room. Rond followed behind him with his shield still raised.

  Arlene nodded and finished gearing up. She left the room and noticed that mound from the hallway window. Still lit up. It wasn’t anything much at first, but after hearing Rond all panicking about it. It felt… strange. She dismissed it and raced to join the two.

  “Let’s go” proclaimed Arlene, beckoning them to lead.

  The two nodded and began the walk to the Mound. Wattyson tapping his staff lightly onto the ground while Rond was ahead, lighting the way with a torch.

  Arlene considered simply casting light magic to illuminate the path, but decided not to. Rond’s already doing that.

  The Moon in the sky shined brilliantly in green tint like a sprawling forest. A near full moon. It was so visible and bright, like it was the only thing in the sky. It was the only thing visible in the sky.

  The very light reflected off the moon seemingly made everything visible to them. Yet Rond still insisted on carrying a torch.

  “No stars?” muttered Arlene.

  Wattyson gazed up to the empty sky.

  “Probably because it’s nearing nightbreak.”

  “Right… it was four in the morning after all.”

  They walked down the cobble roads surrounded by sleeping houses. Then gravel with few. Finally, the dirt surrounded by trees seemingly larger than it looked in the day.

  Arlene couldn’t shake off this eerily feeling. She gulped down, her guard raised. Hand resting on her pommel. Her longswords dangling with her careful steps.

  Wattyson seemed disinterested in the whole walk. Perhaps he thought this was just a normal checkup? Arlene looked to him and found his gaze to be not with road, but something far off into the distance.

  Rond on the other hand walked ahead of them, he hunched down with one arm raising a shield, the other holding the torch steadily. Readying himself for anything that could spook him.

  The walk was quiet. Too quiet. One would expect rustling noises from nearby animals, the winds or anything? An owl or any nocturnal animals lurking about? Nothing here.

  The Mound drew near, and ahead was a figure standing silently near the gate’s pillar.

  Their dress contrasted the green light bathing the world below. White and brown… or black? Either way it was clearly a maid outfit.

  “Is that Neciel?”

  Rond squinted and asked, shield raised to protect his vision from the moon’s light.

  “Maybe she’s here because others had similar concerns like me, so she’s here to clarify right?”

  Arlene nodded, lessening her pace.

  “That could be it….”

  “I knew it! My intuition is wrong! Maybe it’s just my old age!”

  Wattyson scoffed at the thought.

  “Maybe. Either way we’re here. Can’t hurt to check.”

  Arlene then fastened her pace ahead of the group to meet her. Once she was confident Neciel could hear, she waved and greeted her.

  “Neciel! Is everything okay at the house?”

  Neciel on her part, seemingly surprised at the sudden shout, waved her hands signalling a no sign.

  “Everything’s fine! Why?”

  Yet her voice betrayed her. Gone was that bubbly cheery voice. She was stammering. Her body fidgeted a lot. Her smile twitched as if she was forcing it.

  Arlene was the first to arrive, “Is the Elder’s family still celebrating?”

  The rest of the group arrived after.

  Neciel quickly moved her hand to scratch the back of her head.

  “Oh you know,” she let out a giggle too fast to be a natural. “Her family is just lively and rowdy!”

  She then motioned her arms down to her hip level like she was flexing, before swinging side to side.

  “They’re celebrating a miracle after all!”

  Rond spoke up.

  “It’s four in the morning...”

  “Like I said! Rowdy bunch!”

  Wattyson’s gaze remained focused on Maid.

  “Then why are you out here?” his voice’s so sharp it could cut a person.

  Neciel rattled a little, her voice spiked up. “I’m-I’m just on guard! To meet people who’re concered for Grandma! You know… like you all!”

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

  She paused, finding airs for her lungs. “Since her party’s still going till this late!”

  Wattyson didn’t buy it. He kept on trying to gauge while Neciel stayed being evasive.

  Arlene tried to interject. Maybe she was really here like Rond and her thought. However, her eyes darted elsewhere.

  On Neciel’s skirt at the back, it was covered in a dark hue. A stained soaked and clung onto its fabric, not alike wine or soil. Her breathing caught wind of it and hitched. It smelt of iron. Blood.

  She quietly murmured to herself a scripture, faint glow of light covered her briefly.

  “Neciel,” she voiced loudly to interrupt. Her hand resting on the pommel again.

  “Why is there blood on your skirt?”

  “Blood?” Neciel spasmed as she turned around to check, then faced them again with a trembling smile.

  “Oh that’s because one of the kids fell and hit his nose like real really bad! He grabbed onto me and rubbed his face on my skirt! That’s all!”

  “May I see it?”

  “No no, it’s ok! Just a bit of blood!”

  Wattyson stepped back, nudging Rond before whispering to him to stay back. Afterward, he chose to walk. He walked past Neciel. To the House.

  “You can’t!” shouted Neciel as she raced to match his pace. “This party is for family only!”

  “So? She considered me as one. You would know that.” He paused to face Neciel, “She tells you about me all the time.” He returned back to looking at that lit up house. “I’m going.”

  “No! Please! Don’t!”

  Neciel kept trying to stop him, jumping in front of him to stop his track yet he simply just stepped to the side and continued walking forward.

  “Wattyson! Please!” Neciel cried out, her voice getting more heated.

  Arlene picked up her tone of voice and continued trailing behind.

  Neciel body’s staggered and flinched everytime.

  “I said STOP!” she shouted, flung her arm so fast, gust of winds hitting Arlene slightly.

  She hit Wattyson’s side, hurling him back into the dirt toward to the gate. His body dragged across the dirt, leaving a trail of unpatched soil far from where he stood.

  Arlene quickly rushed in front of Neciel. “You okay Watty?”

  Wattyson laid flat in the crumbled patch of dirt, his staff still firmly in his hand. Still gripped tightly.

  “Yep…” his voice bellowed out loud enough for all to hear. “I’m good.”

  Rond quickly rushed to his side, aiding in any way possible.

  She shifted her attention to face the maid. Neciel’s body jerking as if something was growing out. Yesterday, she was a bundle of joy. A dutiful yet professional maid tending to her ‘Grandma’. Now? What stood before her resembled a cornered animal.

  Her eyes glowed red, yet her pupils diluted to pure black. Her nails growing longer. Arlene could see the sharp edges. Her fangs grew enough to be noticeable.

  “I warned you… I plead to you…” shrieked Neciel, stretching both arms out away. “Now I have to kill you!”

  Arlene quickly drew out her blade. She considered side stepping… no that wouldn’t work. Her long sharp nails would’ve caught her. She quickly braced for impact as Neciel lunged at her. Her sword wielded like a shield, bashing it forward, forcing Neciel to defend herself instead.

  The two stood against one another, contesting in feat of physical strength. Arlene was struggling. She gritted her teeth and chanted to boost her physical strength. The question belled in her mind however, where did Neciel get this strength?!

  A mere seconds later, the spell she casted earlier, holy barrier, surprised her foe.

  Neciel’s hands jerked backward, as if it was touching something hot. She quickly leaped back, rummaging her hands onto the dirt to stop the burning sensation.

  “Holy magic?!” shouted the bewildered beast. Her gaze was even more focused now. Her face contorted, filled with rage and desperation.

  “I have to protect Grandma!” she kept muttering to herself in repeat. “I didn’t mean for THAT TO HAPPEN!”

  She raged on, sprinting toward Arlene for another assault. This time however, she thrashed her arm into the ground and back out. Dirt and dusts filled Arlene’s vision, blinding her.

  Arlene remained in the same defensive stance. Blindly defending herself. She could try to attack back but she still held out hope. Maybe they could fix this. Maybe Ne-

  “YOUR HOLY MAGIC WON’T WORK A SECOND TIME!” a scream cut through like a blaze.

  A sharp sensation. Pain filling over right cheeks.

  She fumbled back before feeling another on her side, then her left thigh, and right shoulder. She grunted in pain.

  Neciel continued her relentless clawing and punching, capitalizing on that smokescreen she made. She didn’t get burned from the holy barrier. She retracted her hands fast enough for it to not register.

  Arlene groaned in pain from every hits. All of them were from the front. Her foe was at the front!

  She gritted her teeth, her hand glued to the grip and the central ridge. Turning the sharp edges toward Neciel and quickly shoving it downward to strike.

  The sharp blade fell swiftly, connecting with her chest clean.

  Neciel yelped out loudly in pain, yet she didn’t even pause for a quick breath. She quickly swiped Arlene’s leg, forcing her down.

  Arlene fell with a loud thuk, “Ughh!” she grunted after hitting the floor. “Why?!” she yelled out, “Why are you doing this?! Whatever happened to Grandma, we could help!”

  “SHUT UP!” retorted Neciel sharp. “I HAVE TO DO THIS!”

  Arlene could feel a flow of droplets upon her face. Warm. Tears. They were flowing out from her glowing red eyes, her diluted pupils now resembling a diamond shape almost reptilian looking.

  “I HAVE TO PROTECT GRANDMA!”

  Neciel screamed again and then muttered in repeat. Her body and one arm holding onto Arlene, acting as a weight. Her freearm pointing at Arlene’s neck, the nail slowly extending and threatening to pierce it.

  “We can work through this together! Neciel!” pled Arlene.

  None of it reached Neciel. Too far gone, lost in the mantra to save grandma. her pointy ears didn’t twitch in response to Arlene’s words. Nor did it register the sound of swirling winds approaching her, or sounds of fastened and loud steps.

  “GEH!” she howled out after feeling a sharp pain to her left arm, a blunt and jarring one. She hurriedly glanced and found a shield flopping on the ground.

  She looked up and found nothing but a boot, aimed from high up.

  It fell down in a downward arc, firmly landing in her face and hurling her off of Arlene. Following up with another kick to her gut sending her far off.

  “ROND!” shouted Wattyson, his entire attire masked with dirt.

  Rond swallowed hard and rushed over. He ran to the two.

  “What should I do? How can I help? Maybe I can-can pray?”

  “HELP HER UP MAN!”

  Rond nodded his head, began searching her porch.

  “I-I got it!”

  He croaked with a glass container in his hand, a health potion. He quickly rested his massive arm under Arlene’s head, lifting her up and helping her drink.

  “Hang in there, Chosen one!”

  She took the first sip then winced trying to speak.

  “Maybe now she’ll back down… we could still help her Watty.”

  Wattyson said nothing. He just stepped forward.

  “Watty?”

  He stood between Neciel and the group. A staff firmly gripped and his free hand conjuring up flame.

  Neciel back on her feet snarled. She hunched down with both hands on the grounds, staring with daggers to Wattyson.

  “Anathema…”

  She groaned at the new foe.

  “You’ll kill grandma… YOU WILL KILL GRANDMA WITHOUT MERCY! LIKE THE REST OF US!”

  She cried out.

  “EVEN THOUGH SHE CONSIDERED YOU AS FAMILY!”

  She lunged forward, trying the same trick to cover her attack.

  Anathema quickly swiped his hand forward, bursting out flame clearing the smokescreen. It revealed Neciel mid-jump with nails reaching out to stab him in place.

  He swung his staff to the left then returned to the right, backhanded the foe in the jaw.

  Neciel was staggered but, planting her foot hard onto the ground stopping the momentum. She turned to strike only to be met with flame spewing out right in front.

  She screamed out yet committed to being relentless, she ducked down from the flame. Half of her face was scorched.

  She threw out a claw, intending to stab his rib with full force, breaking him and incapacitating him.

  It went nowhere. Anathema side stepped and grabbed onto the arm. It was getting tighter and tighter. Smell of flesh burning filled the surrounding area, it came from that grip.

  Neciel tried to retaliate, desperately struggling to get away with free hands, her legs, anything to escape. However, she would find no way to do so. She felt the back of her head being grabbed. Sharp pain below kept pushing through her lower torso.

  Rond watched in horror.

  “I-“ his voice stammered. “I knew him, but not this… never this.”

  Arlene slowly sat up, then stood. Her mind was filled with thought of how, how to help Neciel, how to save Neciel, how her holy magic didn’t work, but all of them were drowned out as the man she nicknamed Watty kept kneeing her again and again.

  She knew there was something about him, but not this. Not once did she ever imagine if they were ever in a fight, he was this brutal in fighting.

  She wanted to move, anything to intervene yet every hit froze her in place.

  This wasn’t the Watty she had met back in the Red Grove. One she ate shashukah with, travelled and joked with.

  Her own thoughts kept getting drowned in the sound of bone shattering.

  Wattyson eventually let go of her head, throwing off to the side. Clear scorched mark on Neciel’s right arm. The skin was gone.

  Neciel laid motionless on the ground, she was gasping for airs, groaning in pain, vomiting out whatever she ate and bloods.

  Her ears rang sharp, she could hear the clear clicking noises growing louder and louder.

  She attempted to stand back up, managed only to be on her knee.

  She faced him now, staring into that dark violet eyes. There was nothing in those eyes. Pure lifeless.

  “Please...” she pled. “Show your compassion. Not for me, but for Grandma!”

  Her voice wavered between high and low pitched. The very thought of breathing seemed completely lost on her now.

  “She told me everything about you. She adored you. She always made you a cup of coffee even on days you never visit!”

  Tears streamed through her cheeks and burned skin.

  “She love you!”

  Anathema didn’t reply. He stabbed his staff onto the ground, then reached out into empty space. A small black void formed as it warped the surrounding area. He pulled out a claymore. It was sharp and glinted in silver like it was never used.

  “I will kill you. I will give you a swift one.”

  A cold surgical voice reached Neciel.

  “I will show her all of my mercy… whatever I had left for your kind.”

  Neciel locked to his eyes a bit more before lowering to the bloodied ground. She sighed in resignation and relief. Her body twitched in pain every time she even a muscle.

  She glanced one last time to Arlene then lowered her head, a smile formed and etched from ears to ears. Her eyes closed.

  “I hope… when I go, the heaven can answer me… for all my life… Was I ever kind?”

  The blade fell down swiftly, and two thuds followed.

  Anathema thrusted the claymore into the ground after, immediately collapsing to one knee. His hands still on the hilt.

  “This was never easy…”