Tyler sat silently in the church, watching the ceremony unfold before him. After leaving Dren, he had wandered from town to town, searching for his next victim. But no one had caught his interest. He was bored.
The ceremony was a child's baptism.
"May the Creator, the One who watches over us, guide us. May the Creator bless this child," the priest intoned.
The infant wailed in her parents' arms. Wilkas and Sara Woodson held their newborn daughter, Mercy, their eyes brimming with devotion.
Tyler rolled his eyes. The Creator doesn’t care. If They did, They would have stopped me by now.
A slow grin crept onto his face as a wicked idea took shape.
"I think I’ll pay them a visit tonight," he mused. "Starting with the priest."
Slipping out before the ceremony ended, Tyler pulled his handkerchief tight around his neck and made his way behind the church. Ensuring he was unseen, his form began to shift. Limbs twisted, bones cracked, and in moments, the man was gone. In his place stood a black and gray dog, its eyes gleaming with dark amusement.
As the happy family departed, Tyler watched from the shadows, his tail flicking once.
He would get to them soon.
But first, he wanted to be a good boy.
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Father Knox was in his fifties, and church life had been kind to him. The patrons were generous with their tithes, allowing him to indulge in the finest cuts of meat and the freshest vegetables. While he wasn’t the worst among his brethren, he certainly didn’t live the life he preached.
A sudden scratching at the church’s back door caught his attention.
Father Knox hesitated, then smiled as he opened the door. A black-and-gray dog sat wagging its tail, looking up at him with expectant eyes.
"Are you lost, little one?" Father Knox asked.
The dog barked playfully but did not move from its spot.
"Stay here. I’ll see what I can scrounge up for you," Knox said, shutting the wooden door behind him. He had no intention of letting the creature inside the house of God.
He rummaged through the pantry, gathering leftovers from the previous evening’s meal. A fine cut of roast, some boiled potatoes. It will do, he thought. As he made his way back to the door, a chill ran down his spine.
The door was open.
Knox frowned. Did I even close it?
Then he saw it.
"No!" Father Knox cried out, his voice echoing through the empty church.
The dog stood inside, tail flicking side to side. A dark puddle spread beneath the marble statue of the Creator. The unmistakable stench of feces tainted the sacred space where Knox had performed the baptism mere hours ago.
Disgust turned to rage. Knox raised his hand, ready to strike the wretched creature—
—but the dog lunged first.
With unnatural strength, it slammed him onto the cold stone floor. Knox gasped, his wind knocked out as he struggled beneath the beast's weight. Saliva dripped from its bared fangs, pooling onto his face.
"Begone, you mangy mutt!" Knox spat, trying to push the beast off. He managed to free one hand and swung at its head—
Tyler caught his fist in his jaws.
The crunch of bone echoed through the church.
Knox screamed.
Before he could react, the dog clamped down on his other hand. Another sickening snap.
Tears blurred Knox’s vision as his broken fingers twitched uselessly. His breath came in shallow gasps, his mind scrambling to comprehend the horror before him.
The dog—no, the thing—leaned in closer, its breath hot against his ear.
Then, it spoke.
"I thought you’d fight harder, priest."
Father Knox's blood ran cold.
Tyler grinned, licking the blood from his maw.
"But don’t worry." He leaned in, his voice a whisper of amusement. "We’re just getting started."
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A group of priests on horseback approached the gates of River Hallow, their cloaks heavy with dust from the road. The leader, a stern-faced man with deep-set eyes, raised his hand in greeting.
"Please, let us in. We have urgent business with Brother Orion—an important matter concerning the Church."
The guards exchanged glances before nodding, and with the groan of iron hinges, the gates swung open.
Inside, River Hallow bustled with activity. Merchants peddled their wares, townsfolk hurried through the streets, and the air buzzed with hushed speculation. The townspeople had been informed days prior that a detachment from the Church would be taking up residence. Brother Orion had arrived first, settling into an empty lodging generously donated for their cause.
The new arrivals were quickly given directions to the town's small church, where Orion was already engaged in quiet conversation with Father Lucas.
"I hope our presence will not be too much of a burden to your people, Father," Orion said, seated in one of the worn wooden pews. His tone was calm, measured. "Once our task is complete, we will leave as swiftly as we came."
Father Lucas, lighting a prayer candle, shook his head. "You are no burden, Brother Orion. River Hallow stands ready to assist in any way we can." He paused, lowering his voice. "Though… perhaps you could tell me more of the reason behind your visit. People grow uneasy when Church soldiers ride into town unannounced."
Orion studied the flickering candlelight before responding. His voice was quiet, deliberate. "Since we are alone, I will entrust you with this… The Usher has been found."
Father Lucas gasped. His hand trembled, and the candle slipped from his grip, shattering against the stone floor.
"No… Creator preserve us," he whispered, hastily gathering the shards of broken glass. His face had gone pale. "I prayed the rumors were false. Of all the Creator’s works… why would such a thing be allowed to exist?"
Orion stepped forward, placing a firm hand on the priest’s shoulder. "It was not the Creator who made it, Father. The Church teaches us that it was the result of Rebellion. Those cast out are responsible for this corruption. And it is our sacred duty to stop them—to shield the innocent, to guide the lost, and for some of us…" his gaze darkened, "to prevent annihilation."
Lucas swallowed hard, nodding as he disposed of the shattered glass. "Forgive me, Brother Orion. You are right."
Orion offered a small, grim smile.
"There is nothing to forgive, Father. But pray for strength. Before this is over, we will all need it."
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Before the conversation could continue, the heavy doors of the church creaked open, revealing four hooded figures standing at the entrance. Their dark cloaks were dusted with the remnants of a long journey. The leader stepped forward, his voice firm.
"We need to speak with Brother Orion."
Orion met them halfway down the aisle, his expression unreadable. One of the figures reached into their robes and produced a tightly sealed scroll, placing it into Orion’s waiting hand. He broke the wax seal and quickly scanned the contents, his jaw tightening as he absorbed the message.
Once finished, he exhaled sharply and turned back to Father Lucas. "A battalion will arrive within days. We must be prepared to receive them."
Father Lucas gave a solemn nod before returning to his candles. "There should be ample housing for your officers. As for the troops, we have the supplies and resources necessary to build whatever is needed." He paused, pressing his fingers together in thought. "I have also made arrangements with the tavern keepers. The soldiers will be treated well."
Lucas drew in a steadying breath, whispering a quiet prayer. "Creator bless us all."
Orion turned his gaze to the church’s towering stained-glass window, the flickering candlelight casting distorted reflections of saints and martyrs upon the stone walls. "Let us hope His blessing is enough."
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