The wooden doors of the barracks burst open with a thunderous crash.
The sound echoed off the stone walls. Every soldier in the dining hall jumped in fright. They looked up from their evening meal. Spoons froze mid-air.
The guard ran in.
"Help me!"
The metal pieces of his armor shook violently with every step. Steel clashed against steel. The man ran down the central aisle, pushing tables and knocking over chairs. He headed straight for the back.
"Where is the leader of the Purifiers!" he shouted at a soldier near the stairs.
He kept running without waiting for an answer.
"Hey, you can't just barge in like that!" the soldier warned him.
The guard ignored him. He reached the command headquarters' main door. He didn't knock. He burst in.
The room was silent. The leader of the Purifiers sat at the head of the table. Elector was to one side, his gaze fixed on the wall. Three other officers were reviewing maps.
Everyone looked at the guard. Everyone except Elector.
"I saw her, I saw her, I saw her, I saw her, I saw her!"
The leader of the Purifiers rose from his chair. He moved his palms downward, demanding calm.
"Saw whom."
"The witch Edyth. The one mentioned this morning!"
Everyone fell silent. The silence in the room grew dense. Someone swallowed. The leader looked around. He saw the shift in the air.
"That's a strong claim. Are you sure?"
"Yes! She was near the city entrance. I thought she was just a rebel breaking curfew. I detained her. But I discovered she was carrying two demons in her luggage."
The leader pressed his lips together.
"I tried to knock her out," the guard continued. His hands began to tremble. "But... the shaft of my lance shattered on her head. So I fled."
The leader couldn't help but let out a sharp sound. A laugh. He hid it immediately. He sat back down in his chair.
He looked at Elector.
Elector hadn't moved at all. His profile remained fixed on the wall.
"Are you going to stay there?" asked the leader of the Purifiers. "Even with these claims?"
Without taking his eyes off the wall, Elector spoke.
"What did she look like?"
The guard looked at the floor.
"She's young. Lavender hair and eyes. She wore a heavy dress and carried a suitcase."
"And her eyes... was there anything about them?" asked Elector.
The guard thought for a moment. He remembered the crack of wood against the skull.
"Anything?"
"A gleam. A threat. Something."
"I just felt she looked at me like an insect. Like a disappointment. Like a bore."
Elector clenched his jaw.
It wasn't what he expected. He remembered the painting in the Ashworth house. That dark forest. That cabin with the spiral. That picture, though inert, radiated a terrifying discomfort.
Not that of a bored young woman.
He deigned to turn around to look at the guard.
He frowned.
The seat at the head of the table was empty. The leader of the Purifiers was gone. So were his three officers.
Elector looked toward the door.
All the barracks personnel were peeking in. Dozens of eyes gleamed in the darkness of the hallway. Listening. When Elector saw them, they recoiled sharply. They hid behind the stone frame.
Elector stood up. The chair scraped. He walked over to the guard, who was still trembling in the center of the room.
"Go and rest."
The guard looked up, confused.
"That's all?"
Elector didn't answer him. He headed out of the room. He advanced toward the onlookers huddled in the hallway.
"You have a description now," he said without stopping. "You know what to look for."
He walked through the group. The soldiers stepped aside, pressing against the walls. Elector walked through the barracks toward the main door.
In his thoughts, the pieces were falling into place.
Can we even do anything to her?
He kicked a loose piece of wood on the floor.
The clerics. The priests with real power to deal with her. There were only a handful.
He looked up.
And they all fled with the king.
He walked down the corridor. The light of the rising sun appeared at the end of the hallway. It hit him directly in the face. His face lit up.
His mind lit up as well.
He remembered the military history books. The ancient tactics. The chronicles of that war.
In the history books, these kinds of demons were never defeated by a bishop. It was always...
Elector crossed the threshold. He stepped out into the streets of Aldric Thorn. He breathed the air thick with salt and remnants of incense.
I'm starting to understand why the nobles want to rebel.