evil

*An imposing figure stands clad in armor of gold and adamantine. A hero tries desperately to stand once more, but fails to find the energy, and are left leaning on the ground against the haft of his axe. A series of thin, shadowy lances emerging from beneath the hero, sending a spray of blood onto the golden figure, standing triumphantly amongst what now numbers six fallen bodies. A child's cry heard from nearby.*

Vanasela woke in a panic. Though the room was warm, she shivered with a grim fear that always accompanied these dreams. They had been plaguing her since her husband Kohvelar, a mercenary by trade, had left on a job at the beginning of this month and they were growing worse and worse.

She realized that the scream, however, had been real and not part of the dream - at least, she had hoped. From nearby, she heard fearful screams of her young son, Kohran. He had woken too early once more, it seemed, and cried in fear for his mother to help him deal with the monsters he imagined hid in the dark. Vanasela sighed in frustration - he was nine, it was time for him to outgrow such fears, but she could not blame her percious boy for who he was. *You have not even the power to guide your dreams from unpleasant visions. How could you protect this percious child?* She felt shock and fear at the errant thought, but dispelled it, as she went to check on her boy.

After comforting her son, and lighting an oil lamp for him, Vanasela checked on her fifteen year old daughter, Valissa, and began to prepare the house for Kohvelar's return for the twelfth time in a row. He was due back nearly a fortnite ago and had not yet returned, but she wanted to be sure the house was clean and dinner prepared for when her love returned. It was not long after taking the laundry in from the line at noon that she saw him approaching from down the street alongside his companions in the Orhelar Irregulars and their horsedrawn carraige. As they drew near the house, one of many ramshackle abodes lining the thin Oldmill Street in a poorer district of the city, she heard as always the greetings of his "second family", as he'd call them, as well as the crass remarks about their love life that she'd always wished he'd shut down. *The golden figure you saw would never stand idly to offenses like you do.* Disturbed by the new thought, she forced it away by calling out to her sweetheart.

Their reunion that day was pleasant. He shared stories of his adventures, showed off the loot and money he brought home - enough to finally put a dent in his gambling loans. A few more jobs, and perhaps they could afford to move into a better part of the city! She put on a roast she had been saving for him for dinner, and the whole family dined together once more. *You can't protect this. One day, he'll leave, and never return home. You'll lose everything, because you're too weak to protect what matters.* She excused herself from dinner early that evening.

That night, after putting the kids to bed, she drew bath water for her husband - quite hot, the way he preferred it. As she helped him wash his back, the intrustive thoughts had reached a point where she couldn't contain it alone.

"Love. I need to talk to you about something. Since shortly after your departure, I've begun suffering great ills. Terrible nightmares of violence and death at night, and plaguing thoughts of self doubt and loss during waking light. I've felt the pall of some vile specter upon my shoulders for weeks, and it's becoming too much to bear. You told me once of a priest specialized in banishing shades plaguing homes that you had befriended once, yes?"

His response surprised her at first..."My dear, you've always had a touch of hysteria. Be reasonable. A spirit simply arriving in our house after 16 years in it?" This is...I mean of course it's how he'd respond...*you've been married to him for 16 years, you fool. You know who he is, and it is this dismissive, selfvain man.* No. No, he's been lovely. You've known him since you were young. You've been in love for 20 years. This isn't him.

"Dear, please believe me. All I ask is that we send word to your friend the pr-"

"I do not want to talk about that pious fool right now, Vanasela! Nor of your most recent hysterics. I've just come from a month of travel and trial and blood. All I want right now is to finish washing, and to sleep." This is how he's always been isn't it? *Surely you've noticed by now, the only pall you've borne is that of a love blinding you to the mistreatment he gives because of your weakness.*

"Please, Kohvelar, the voices even now try to convince me y-"

"Silence!" he shouted, loudly enough that Vanasela worried it would wake the children. "I...I'm sorry. I'm trying to work on the anger. But you are being ridiculous right now, love. Spirits do not whisper fears into your ear. Demons do not give you visions of death. They hunt, they kill. If you really are so disturbed since my abscence, perhaps your hysteria has gotten worse. You do not need an abbot, but a place in bedlam. I'll contact the magister first thing when I wake." You are go*ing to lose everything important to you. Unless you stop him.* No, he would only do what's right for me. *He has always blamed your concerns on hysteria.* No, he just. *Do not be stupid. You will lose everything. You will be kept in the sanitarium forever...or worse given one of the magister's little treatments. You will never see your precious Kohran without bars between you or bindings around you. You can prevent it. Accept me and my power will keep Kohran by your side for the rest of your life.*

______________

When nobody in the Orhelar Irregulars had heard from Kohvelar in days, and he never misses cards night, a few of them went to his home to investigate. Asking the neighbors, nobody had seen anyone arrive or leave since the night Kohvelar returned...though one mentioned seeing the daughter sneaking back in, and hearing a shout shortly after.

Going in, they found the place neat, as sweet Vanesela had always kept it. However, it was eerily quiet. The leader of the group, Bough, went upstairs slowly, feeling a sense of dread. He put his off hand on the haft of his axe for comfort, as he opened the door into the hall.

He was greeted with a grizzly scene. Upon the floor lie the body of Valissa rent open and covered in thin, parallel piercings passing entirely through her body. In the nearby bath chamber sat a stew of days-old bathwater, marinating the corpse of their late companion. Neither Vanasela and Kohran nor their bodies where ever to be found.

*Lucky for them, I had better things to accomplish than to retread old ground.*