Grimoire

A clear blue sky shined over the city of Ashmore. Ashmore served as an important trade center for the nation of Albion's eastern region. Its proximity to its neighbors made it an important military asset, as well as an important trade center. With this wealth, they could create rows and rows of beautifully decorated stone buildings. The tallest of all was a large cathedral. Decorated with asymmetrical spires that towered over the city, it was covered in colorful stained glass. Recently, the city gained a reputation as a city of miracles.

The Church of Ardna had gained notoriety because of the recent war. The head of the Church, Damien Blackwell became known throughout the city as a miracle worker.

“Thank you, Father Damien.” A woman said, bowing to the elder. “My mother-in-law could finally see her granddaughter, thanks to you!”

Damien smiled kindly as he raised his hand. “My dear, I merely did my job. Lord Ardna blesses those who seek his love. All his believers are rewarded with his love, after all!”

“Ardna bless you, Father!”

As Damien walked into his church, his soft smile turned into a smirk. “Yes, Ardna blesses those who follow him.”

Walking to a stairwell, the sect master unlocked a metal door and descended into the stone catacombs. Walking through the stone corridor, the priest smiled as he placed a torch onto a fixture. Lining the walls were several metal barred doors that seemed to extend for eternity. Damien strutted as he looked at his helpless prisoners. A majority were women dressed in various rags and thin clothing. Some glared at the priest, others reached out of their cells with a sense of hope that he’d set them free. Reaching his destination at the end of the tunnel, he clasped his hands together as he entered the room.

“You look disagreeable today,” Damien said mockingly.

A woman with mid-length dark blue hair sat in the corner. Her green eyes glared at the priest in disdain. If looks could kill, he'd been dead twice over. She was dressed in a bloodied white gown that reached her knees. Her hair was caked with dirt and dried blood. “I hope my toxin didn’t destroy your cognitive functions. Would be a waste of such a high-value woman.”

“If I had a sword, you would be dead.” She said, her tone making it clear that was a matter of fact. Aria was struggling to maintain her focus. It was either the poison or a fever from being trapped in the cell with minimal nutrition. Even in the dark cell, she could see the priest smiling at her suffering.

“Yes, I’m well aware of your family's reputation. Miss Corvo. The nation of Easenna is renowned for their swordsmanship, and your family was considered the strongest of them all.” Damien said. “Human weapons, that's what they called you, correct? Regardless, Lord Ardna protects those who follow his teachings. Including demons, such as yourself. You’re welcome to repent your sins to him.”

“Repent to a god whose messenger tortures and assaults women?” She scowled.

Everything in her body told her to get up and escape. She knew he wasn't stronger than the soldiers she’d killed in the past. Yet her body wouldn’t budge. Her dominant hand was currently recovering. They'd broken each of her fingers for her ‘disobedience’ towards the priest. She managed to bind it by ripping off a piece of her gown. Aria wasn’t naive. She expected these hardships the moment she became a prisoner of war. She didn't expect her captor to be this sadistic.

“Where’s Mary?” She demanded.

“You really are in a foul mood today." Damien laughed cruelly. "She’s alive, for now. I was actually about to visit her. She makes for good stress relief~”

To his surprise, she appeared right in front of him, almost instantly. A light blue aura covered her other hand and was aimed at his throat. Normally, his toxin was supposed to cause complete muscle paralysis.

She’s surprisingly resilient. I’m sure if she had the opportunity she’d truly kill me. Damien thought to himself with an amused grin.

Fortunately for Damien, he bought her while she was still injured from whatever battles she’d been in. He had slashed her legs along the tendons as insurance. He knew just moving caused intense pain for her. Yet she ignored it for the chance at killing him. Unfortunately, Damien was still stronger than her. His purple ring glowed as he effortlessly avoid her attack. The priest countered with a knee to the stomach. The force of his attack sent her across the cell and caused her to cough up blood. Sauntering over, her captor pulled her up by the hair.

“Perhaps you misunderstand your situation, my dear. You are my property now. You were sold to me and, as such, I own you. Completely.” He taunted. “You should use this time to truly assess your situation.”

Dropping her back on the floor, Blackwell’s eyes lingered on her frame for a moment. A small smile carved its way across his face. While she lacked some of the 'assets' her handmaiden had, she’d still work well. Plus, the strong-willed ones were more fun to break in. Shame the ritual requires her to be left untouched. But I can wait until after~ Damien thought.

He half considered cutting each of her fingers off to prevent her from potentially turning against him. Maybe that would finally break her spirit. Living; knowing she'd never use a sword again. Part of him found the idea amusing just to see what kind of face she'd make. It doesn't matter. Once the ritual is complete, she’ll be subservient to me.

As Damien left. Aria gazed at the ceiling. How many days had she been here? She estimated it had been about a month since she was brought here. She’d try calling out to Mary, but Blackwell purposefully kept them separated. Was this her future? It felt like a cruel curse cast upon her by God.

“This is hell.”

A crimson moon bathed Ashmore in a red hue. As the city slept, the church of Ardna was very much active. The cathedral's chamber was barren except for Blackwell and some followers dressed in dark cloaks. He stood at the altar dressed in his regular white robe. At the center was a pentagram with an outer circle drawn in chalk with various symbols around its edges. The same pentagram matched the priest's ring.

“The great Lord Ardna has gifted us some sinners to cleanse. They were followers of demonic forces but arrived here to follow the true god.”

Aria was chained to the side of the altar. Alongside her was a woman she didn’t recognize. She had braided dark-brown hair. If she had to guess, the woman seemed to be in her early thirties. Her dress was slightly tattered, likely coming from the same cells Aria had been in. Aria’s mouth was gagged with a cloth. Blackwell's men brought the woman to the center of the circle.

“This first one was rumored to be conspiring with the dead. A sin that not only violates the laws of our great nation but the laws of nature!.”

Gesturing to one of his acolytes, a robbed man brought out a hot metal poker, its orange light glowed throughout the chamber. Looking at the poker, the woman's eyes widened in horror.

“W-wait! I’m not a sinner!” She pleaded. “I was only praying for my child who passed away. Wanting salvation is a sin?!” she yelled, distraught. While Aria struggled to maintain attention, she truly wished the worst would come to these people.

“Who gave you permission to talk?” One of them said before striking her with the hilt of his sword, knocking her to the floor. The poor woman broke into a sob.

“If nothing else, I’ll accept whatever punishment if it means that child over there goes free!”

Aria's eyes widened. The stranger's kindness surprised yet touched her. She could plead for her own life but chose to bargain for that of a strangers. Despite her sincerity, Aria knew the cruel reality of their situation. She wanted to tell her to save her breath. Damien would never be that merciful.

The priest walked over to the woman and offered her a kind smile. “You’d give anything, so that girl goes free? Even though she’s from the nation that caused the death of your child?”

The woman looked at Aria before shaking her head. “She’s just a child! Even if she’s from Easenna, she couldn’t possibly be at fault for the Eldritch! Why does she need to suffer? Is your god not a kind one?”

Perhaps naive, the woman truly hoped Damien Blackwell could be reasoned with.

“I see.”

Damien had a bored expression. In a swift motion, a blade made of a dark aura sliced through her neck with ease. The sound was gross, inhuman, and eerily unforgettable. A column of blood flooded the altar as the woman's expression was permanently saved to her face. Kicking her detached head away, Damien wiped the blood off of him with a rag before undoing Aria's gag and moving her to the center of the circle. “Using Ardna's name in vain… Foolish.”

“You bastard!” Aria yelled.

As one of his acolytes went to hit her, Damien merely raised his hand to call him off.

“I had planned to sacrifice her regardless. Why are you upset? I thought you hated this country, Miss Corvo?” Opening a briefcase, a vial of murky purplish fluid and a syringe were placed on the altar table. The liquid looked unnatural, as if it still had a pulse. The fluid seemed to move on its own.

“The funny thing about Eldritch is that their effects on humans remain a mystery. It may destroy your sense of self, or it might make you completely subservient to me. Hell, it may very well boil you from the inside out! I'd hope not though, would be such a waste.”

Aria’s body trembled. “An Eldritch. No way… Are you mad?!”

“Who can say?” The priest filled the syringe with the liquid before looming the needle over her eye. “Once you become this Eldritch’s host, it won’t matter. The ‘you’ that you know will be destroyed. I may have you visit that companion of yours after this is done. I’m curious what kind of reaction she’d have!” Damien laughed.

From fighting in a war, to the death and suffering she'd grown accustomed too, this was the first time in Aria's eighteen years of life that she felt this terrified. She’ll either be forced to serve this person completely or turn into something unrecognizable from herself. She didn’t want to accept that. After her family's death, to her best friend being tortured because of her, she didn’t want to have her humanity stripped away on top of that. It was a fate worse than death. All she could do is close her eyes in fear.

I don’t want this. I’d rather die than this! Someone, anyone. Please!

BANG

As Damien went to inject Aria with the syringe, the glass shattered. Shards of glass splintered across the altar as the cracking of a gun echoed through the halls of the cathedral.

Reopening her eyes, Aria saw a glowing light-gray barrier surrounding her. A mixture of glass and fluid slowly poured onto the floor in front of her. Damien’s eyes widened in shock.

“For a man of God, I’d think torturing and killing people would be the most unforgivable sin.” Something said.

Looking towards the source of the voice, Damien saw something sitting in front of the stained glass fixture above them. Its silhouette was dark, however, in that darkness, he saw an ominous red. A pair of crimson eyes gazed down on him and his followers in judgment.

“So you’re the one using a grimoire to play God.”