"Not all houses are inhabited by people.
Some are home to sins—rooted, breeding, multiplying."
The house stood in the center of the city like a bronze statue forgotten by time—grand, symmetrical, built in classical architecture, surrounded by gardens with neatly trimmed hedges.
But no scent bloomed there.
No song ever rose from it.
Enver stood at its threshold, his black cloak billowing in a wind unseen. His eyes gazed inward, into the rooms that had become nests. This house was not merely a place where evil was done. It kept, it concealed, and eventually became the second body to creatures born of every unheard scream.
> "Purificazione doesn't begin when the spell is spoken.
It begins when your intent is stronger than your disgust for mankind."
His first step pierced through thick air.
Not dust. Not moisture.
But the fossilized breath of fear.
The walls echoed with sounds that could never be heard by ordinary humans—
the slow rotation of time that had been forced to stop.
At the heart of the grand living room, something crawled.
An astral centipede—
invisible to the average eye, yet vivid to a Hellseer.
Its body slithered across the ceiling, glistening with the residue of sin that never dried.
Each leg gripped memories.
Each segment carried the silent faces of those who once wept.
The creature groaned—not in sound, but in the frequency of guilt that reverberated through Enver's chest.
> "You've grown here… for far too long."
His hand lifted, forming a seal never taught in books.
A light emerged from within—
not fire, not lightning—
but something that pierced through illusion.
Screams.
Crying.
The sound of nails raking the floor.
All at once, they filled the air, as if every spirit harmed in this house remembered how they died—
and wanted one last second of life,
just to scream.
And from the corner of the room, the centipede's mother emerged.
Its body pierced the floor like roots from hell—slow-moving, but deadly.
It had no eyes, yet Enver could feel its gaze in the marrow of his soul.
> "You… are not human.
You… should not meddle in my nest."
"And you should not turn humans into yours."
A burst of light shattered the room—chairs lifted, glass exploded.
Enver spun once, and then again.
The spell was no spell—it was his soul.
And the house began to pale, like a corpse drained of its last blood.
But just as the darkness began to break—
a different tremor coursed through Enver's body.
Something…
or someone…
was calling him.
---
Far from there, at the edge of the world,
Lumina rose from where she sat.
Her blue eyes widened.
She didn't know who was purifying that house,
but she could feel the energy—so similar to hers.
Yet deeper.
Sharper.
More painful.
> "He… is fighting darkness
with a light I once longed to hold."
---
Back in the ruins, Enver stood alone.
Smoke curled upward, but there was no fire.
The house felt like a body finally released from its foul spirit—
silent, cleansed, yet forever scarred.
A few female spirits floated gently.
They did not speak.
They did not weep.
They simply bowed once,
then dissolved into specks of light,
returning to the sky like sacred dust.
Enver touched his left chest.
There, the same light Lumina had felt—still burned.
> "If there is another like me…
why have I felt so alone all this time?"
The sky began to darken,
not because night had come,
but because the world was beginning to realize:
the old Hellseer has returned…
and he is no longer alone.