Alenna continued reading.
"But that night, hell came to Highcliff. Destruction. Everywhere. Highcliff was torn apart. Buildings crumbled. Streets cracked. Fire everywhere. I saw my dear daughter... crushed by a falling building. Her good husband... burnt to ash by blazing flame. My lovely grandchildren... engulfed by apocalyptic light. I thought I would die too. But I didn't."
The faces of everyone in the room turned grim. It was a diary of a survivor.
"The dust, the screams, the silence that followed… It haunts my sleep every night. I don't know how I survived. I woke up in a hospital bed. My body was broken. My family... gone. When I recovered, everything was gone."
Alenna's voice trembled uncontrollably. She took a deep breath before continuing.
"Then came the whispers... The rumors from the survivors. The explanation from the church. It was all caused by those damned cultists. The Cult of Purity. The Purity Goddess, whatever monstrosity it was, possessed a young girl. She was meant to be her incarnation. But she was incomplete. The damned cultists had to bring forth a ritual to complete her. A ritual that demanded sacrifice. The sacrifice of the people in Highcliff."
Jack could see Father Greythorn gritted his teeth. His knuckles were white where he gripped his staff. "The Purity Goddess… such blasphemy." He heard the priest muttered.
"But the Church of Justice, those self-righteous fools, they wouldn't let it stand. They summoned an angel. In town. The six-winged angel might be a glorious creature of light. But I know enough. I know it is also a terrible creature of fury. It doesn't care about common people. It only cares about the annihilation of the enemy."
The listeners looked at each other. Other than the teens, the others were knowledgeable or experienced enough to know that what Carpenter Teakarm wrote was... not wrong. Even Father Greythorn acknowledged that. In this world, angels weren't benevolent creatures.
Alenna continued. "The fight… it was not glorious. It was pure destruction. The angel clashed with the demon-goddess incarnation. Their powers tore Highcliff apart. Buildings crumbled. Streets cracked. People were caught between the divine and the blasphemous. Crushed, incinerated, or choked to death under falling debris. It was hell."
She took another deep breath before continuing. "The church, of course, spun their tales. The angel saved us, they said. From a great evil. But what about the innocent victims? What about my family?"
Jack looked around. Reina's expression was grim. So was the others. Even the usually stoic Harold Mason looked disturbed.
"I couldn't accept it." Alenna kept on reading. "I spent months researching. Digging into forgotten texts, old legends, whispers from condemned cults. I learned the truth. The Purity Goddess, for her incarnation attempt, always seeks a very specific vessel. Always a teenage girl. Always with blonde hair, blue eyes, and thin lips."
Understanding started to dawn in every listener's eyes. So, that was why the puppets target those teenagers.
"And I saw it here, in Mirebarrow. The signs. The whispers. I couldn't let it happen again. I couldn't let Mirebarrow be another Highcliff. I had to protect them. Even if they cursed my name, I had to stop the possibility."
Alenna was almost choked when she read that. She again took a deep breath to calm herself. She handed the diary to Nick. Letting him replace her... reading the entry.
Nick continued the reading. "I had to stop the possibility... I found an ancient ritual. A terrible sacrifice, but a necessary one. One thing that could save this town. So, I crafted them, carefully. Four puppets. A family. To represent what I lost. And to prevent anyone else from losing theirs."
He stopped, flipped the page and continued.
"The ritual was a life sacrifice. I had nothing left, so it wasn't that bad. My life for my wish. My soul for Mirebarrow's safety. These puppets, animated by my own dying will, they will seek out the potential vessels. They will eliminate them before the cultists can choose one. They will break the cycle. I am a monster, I know. But I will die knowing I protected this town."
Nick finished reading. His voice was a raw whisper. The old journal slipped from his fingers. Landing with a soft thud on the dirt floor.
The cellar was utterly silent. The only sound was the faint dripping of water from a crack in the stone.
Jack, Reina, Olward, Mayor Glaiver, Sir Shellarrow, Mr. Spear, Father Greythorn, Lady Luther, Nick, Harold, Allena... all of them stood in stunned silence. The horrifying truth was laid bare.
The puppets were not random monsters. They were a desperate, twisted act of protection. Done by a man who had lost everything to what he perceived as terrifying horror. And he had later sacrificed himself to prevent a repeat.
They knew now how the puppets became alive. They knew now why they targeted specific girls. They could also conclude now why they reappeared.
Carpenter Teakarm had poured his entire being, his very soul, into their creation and perpetual animation. He hadn't wanted to kill. But to prevent a greater evil.
They found the cause. But the solution to this problem… it was still unclear. They couldn't let the puppets keep killing innocent teenagers, could they?
They needed to stop the murders. But how? Killing the puppets wouldn't break the curse. Not with Carpenter Teakarm's dying will sustaining them.
"So, we get the puppets' origin now." Jack said. Cutting through the quiet atmosphere. He ran a hand over his short dark hair. A subtle gesture of weariness. "He wasn't some mad cultist. He was just... broken. Losing his family twisted him."
He glanced at the others, whose expression mirrored his own grim assessment. "He wanted to stop the cult from using those girls. So he started killing them himself. Fucked up logic, but there it is."
He turned to the assembled transcendent beings. "Now what? We can't just let the puppets keep slaughtering blonde teenagers, can we?"
Olward sighed. "The problem hadn't changed. We could break the puppets. But, destroying them doesn't really fix anything."
Sir Shellarrow chimed in. "Indeed. The sacrifice curse binds them until their objective is met, or the curse itself is broken. We lack the means to break such a potent soul sacrifice directly without risking unintended consequences."
"Right." Jack nodded slowly. "So, we need options. I've got a few ideas. Considering what we've seen."
He looked around the group with his sharp gaze. "First, instead of just pulverizing them, what if we tried to seal them? Not destroy, just contain. If they're bound to reappear, maybe a powerful enough seal would just keep them contained wherever they rematerialize."
Father Greythorn stroked his beard thoughtfully. "I've tried a few standard seals from the church records. They targeted the puppets. It doesn't work. But a seal that fixes the spawn location... that is a possibility. The church has several other sealing rites. We might have such thing. It would still require study and preparation, but it should be plausible."
"Second." Jack continued after nodding to the priest. "The targets are specific: blonde hair, blue eyes, thin lips, teenage girls. We could evacuate them. Temporarily, at least. Get them out of town until we figure this out. It buys us time."
Mayor Glaiver agreed. "Evacuation is disruptive and troublesome. But if it saves lives, it must be considered. We would need to identify them, quietly, so as not to cause widespread panic."
He looked at Mr. Spear and Lady Luther. "That would fall to the Town Watch's discretion and organization."
"Third option." Jack proposed again. Raising three of his fingers. "Researching the original ritual and searching for a loophole in it. It would be great if we could modify that wish or that curse? Redirect it. Change the parameters. Make them protect instead of killing. Or kill... something else. Or just make them stop."
Olward grunted. His gaze fixed on the remnants of the ritual circle. "Modifying a soul sacrifice ritual? That's advanced, Boy. Extremely dangerous. It can make the situation worse if done improperly. And it requires intimate knowledge of the original ritual."
"Exactly." Jack agreed. "Which we don't have. Not yet. But it's an option we should investigate. If we could change their target, or simply nullify their murderous programming, it would be the best result. We..."
Jack suddenly stopped. A faint shimmer of distortion appeared where the captured 'daughter' puppet was held in place by the blazing chains. The [Chains of Vengeance], usually unbreakable, seemed to flex and waver.
"What's happening?" Reina murmured. Her eyes were fixed on the puppet. Her hands instinctively drew her steamrune handguns.
The puppet began to glow with a faint, internal light. It was a cold, sickly yellow glow. Then, without warning, it faded.
The blazing chains tightened for a split second before dropping down. Empty. The puppet was gone. Disappeared. Vanished as if it had never been there.
Jack's jaw tightened. "Time bound." He stated in a flat voice while taking out a pocket watch. "It's an hour after midnight. They reappear at midnight."
He quickly made a conclusion. "Well, that gives us more information. They will return at midnight. And will disappear an hour afterward."
Sir Shellarrow nodded. His expression was grim. "And the cycle will continue."
The group resumed their discussion. The puppet's sudden disappearance added a fresh sense of urgency. They weighed the risks and benefits of each suggestion, the implications for Mirebarrow, and the lives at stake.
After another tense half-hour of discussion, a rough plan coalesced. They decided to pursue all three avenues simultaneously. It was ambitious, perhaps even reckless. But the stakes demanded nothing less.
"Alright." Mayor Glaiver announced. His voice was firm. Taking charge of the logistics. "Here's how we proceed..."
He looked at the priest. "Father Greythorn, your expertise in spiritual sealing is the best among us. You, with my assistance, will delve into the Church's archives and any other relevant texts. Nick, Alenna, and Harold will also act as your aides and learn from you. Your goal is to find a ritual or method to effectively seal these puppets."
Father Greythorn bowed his head in acknowledgment. "It will be done, Mayor. The work of the Redemption will prevail against such tragic darkness."
The Mayor then turned to the town protectors. "Sir Shellarrow, Mr. Spear, Lady Luther. Your priority is the safety of our citizens."
He explained further. "You will work with the other members of the Town Watch. Use the city's census records. Discreetly identify all teenage girls matching the description. Register them, and organize a temporary, quiet evacuation to safe locations outside Mirebarrow. We cannot risk another panic, but we cannot risk another life either."
Sir Shellarrow gave a curt nod. "Understood, Mayor. We will begin immediately. We'll coordinate with the Town Watch to ensure discretion and security."
Finally, Mayor Glaiver looked at Jack, Reina, and Olward. "And as for the most... unconventional approach. Well, it will be in the hands of the three of you."
"Mr. Night, Mrs. Night, and Mr. Overgale." He paused for a few seconds. "Your task is to find the exact ritual Teakarm used, and determine if it can indeed be altered without catastrophic consequences. This is not an easy task. Are you three certain you wish to undertake it?"
Jack met his gaze calmly. "Someone has to." He glanced at Reina, who smiled faintly. A silent affirmation of her support. "Besides, Reina and I have dealt with worse. And Olward should have seen enough weird things, if we take account of his age and former occupation. Isn't that right, Old Man?"
Olward grunted again. A sound that could have meant agreement or disdain. Probably both. "Just don't blow us all up, Boy. My old bones have seen enough explosions."
With the assignments made, the teens and the other transcendent characters began to depart. The teenage apprentices, though still visibly shaken, seemed eager to contribute.
Only Jack, Reina, Olward, and Rune remained in the chilling confines of Carpenter Teakarm's cellar. The air felt heavier. Charged with the lingering residue of Teakarm's final, desperate act.
Rune, sensing the seriousness of their task, emitted a soft, internal glow. A deeper, more resolute blue glow.
"Alright, Love! Old Man!" Jack turned to Reina and Olward. "Let's get to it. For a carpenter to be able to pour his soul into a ritual like this, there has to be the source. A guideline. Something he acquired the knowledge form. Nobody just pulls a ritual of this magnitude out of thin air."
"Indeed." Olward agreed. He began to systematically survey the cellar. His experienced eyes scanning every crack and crevice. "A ritual of this complexity would require a source, or a lifetime of study."
Jack nodded. "Let's find it, then."