5 years earlier—
A merchant jerks awake to the blistering cold of a blizzard as he slowly adjusts to his situation. He had fallen asleep in his carriage, which stood outside a small, cozy cabin, the door even being left slightly ajar. He didn't want to enter the cabin, but he also didn't want to freeze to death, so he decided to knock on the door, making his presence known. There was no sound, nothing, not a peep. Were they gone? He enters holding his dagger for protection. A very distinct smell grows known as he ventures further towards the living room.
There lay the gruesome aftermath of what used to be a late dinner, only to be abruptly ended by a thief? The couple's bodies told many stories, all too disturbing. The smell of iron in the air, the crimson-stained wooden floors all working together, describing a desperate fight for survival to no avail. He takes off his hat, paying his respects before venturing further into the small cabin. Setting his bag down to scavange, he notices rats scurrying away from something covered in a quilt. He eyes the quilt for a long time before throwing a shoe at the object, causing a small squeak as it hits, assuming he just killed a rat, but his curiosity and greed get the better of him. He readies himself and approaches the object with cautious steps. Now towering over, he removes the quilt carefully, his dagger grasped tightly in his free hand.
"W-What in God's name is this...?" he asks, holding the quilt in his hand, finding the small, weak body of a young boy. It nearly made the man puke from the smell itself, but the sight was equally terrifying. A small, burnt body wrapped tightly in the quilt. Perhaps the couple wanted to bury their child... but the child looks as if it's been dead for more than a decade. Its small body covered in head to toe in cobwebs, the rats were feasting good, nearly picked meat clean off the bone, but worse of yet, it seemed to be impaled with an enchanted blade. Worried he had unintentionally tampered with voodoo, he dropped the object with a resounding thud. As it hits the ground, a small, barely audible whimper is heard from it, causing the man to jerk as he examines the object more closely."It wasn't some doll, it was a human... is it even human?" Multiple red flags fire off inside his head, but going against his better judgement, he gently tapped the child, causing them to whimper again. Hearing this made all reason go out the window, picking up the child and wrapping it in the tarp, traveling back to his carriage in the heavy snow. This child was still alive, despite the odds. Was he a gifted?
"Hang in there, kiddo! You're going to be just fine!" The man shouted above the howling winds, cradling the child against him, ensuring the tarp shielded them from the biting cold. He climbed onto his carriage and set off toward the nearest village, hope and desperation driving him forward.
As the storm intensified, every jolt sent anxiety through him, but the child's occasional babble reminded him of the fragile hope they shared. Then he spotted smoke rising in the distance—his beacon. Urging his horse onward, he wondered if the villagers would be friendly or hostile. Regardless, he had to press on. At the very least, they might take his life, but perhaps they would care for the boy. With renewed determination, he forged ahead into the storm.
"We're saved!" the man exclaims, his eyes gleaming with hope. He bends down, moments away from pulling back the quilt, a smile spreading across his face. "We're going to—" But just as the words leave his lips, a heavy silence falls around him. The fierce blizzard that had raged just moments before abruptly quiets, as if the world is holding its breath. With a trembling hand, he lifts the quilt, only to feel his heart drop— the boy is gone. Panic grips him as he swiftly unsheathes his sword, a chilling realization hitting him: could he have unknowingly tampered with a voodoo doll? Something about this whole scenario feels deeply wrong, as if unseen forces are at play in the shadows.
Quiet was an understatement; it was deafening. The only thing he could do was think. He wanted to survive, but how could he? Small scuffling sounds were heard outside the carriage, forcing the man to let out a weak howl, both in defense and fear. Cornered just miles away from civilization, he takes hold of his dagger tightly. It was just him and the demon now. The carriage shook violently as a deafening roar echoed throughout, causing the man to fall to his knees in prayer, dropping the knife, shutting his eyes tight, and humming hymns. His life flashed before his eyes—his wife, his children—each image a reminder of the heartache that awaited them. He prayed like he never had before, only to open his eyes and greet face to face with the rotting corpse of a demon, watching him with a curious gaze.
Its body was now twice as large, still lacking most of its skin, just mainly bones, but durable, and he could very much tell. Its strength is known, due to its pervious... "Show of Dominance". Its face looked like it had been rotted off, burnt, healed, then burnt off again. Its eyes were pure black, maggots resting on them, tilting his head seemingly amused by the small merchant. The creature laughs, knowing the man is at its will, but the man has other plans. He splashes holy water onto the demon, causing it to shriek in pain. The man uses this to run out of the carriage, tripping over the carcass of his once-alive steed, only to be whacked into a tree forcefully.
He yelped in pain, his bones broken and bruised. As the demon approached, cackling, he tried to rise but couldn't. Was he destined to die like the couple before him? Summoning his remaining strength, he crawled away, only to hear the demon's mocking laughter. The creature kicked him farther as it began to chase. Panting and fading in and out of consciousness, he clasped his hands in prayer one last time, while the demon pressed its foot on his chest, ready to crush him.
"As you wish..." A sword plunged into the demon from behind, pinning it to the tree with a howl. The merchant turned to see a ray of light; it was one of the legendary heroes, chosen by God. "Just another demon... begone, filth," he commanded, his voice powerful. With a snap of his fingers, his sword returned to him. The demon, healing quickly, lunged forward, its eyes filled with rage. "Annoying... die in shame, mongrel," the hero retorted, deftly sidestepping the attack before rushing to check on the merchant.
"W-Who are you?" the merchant asks, dumbfounded. The fight ended just as soon as it had begun. He observes his armor, realizing the insignia is from the church. "A-Are you from the—"
"Quiet, please," The hero says softly, causing the merchant to go silent. "B-But he's a human.... no, I'm not disobeying, it's just—" The merchant is confused, rightfully so. Why was he talking to himself, but then the hero goes silent, staring down at him, causing the merchant to try to crawl away. The hero holds him down, turning him onto his stomach, making the merchant cry out for help, but the hero never stops. "A-As you wish." Raising his blade, he then plunges the sword through the heart of the merchant. "Amen," he sighs out as he continues on his way, aimlessly.