Conceived in a night of drunken passion, she spent her early years hiding from sight so as not to bring further shame to her human mother. With every sighting of the obviously fiendish features inherited from her father, she had to endure ridicule, superstition and sometimes outright fear.
At an early age, she began to blossom and by the age of eight, her tainted blood manifest features of dark beauty and forbidden desire. Captivated by her potential, a buyer paid a handsome price for her contract as her mother sold her into prostitution.
She was subject to every form of abuse, took whatever name they gave her. Sometimes they beat her, sometimes they bound her, whatever lecherous act her owner could imagine was forced upon her. More than once she tried to take her own life but something within her would not let her die.
Then He came to her. The offering of power, of freedom, of revenge and the price? So small, so insignificant, barely a sacrifice. As the dark planet eclipsed the sun, she crushed a moth and whispered His name: "Rahu".
Dark power flowed into her, filling the hopeless void of her consciousness, infusing her being and stirring her tainted blood. "Blight" the name rippled through her. "Master" she responded, tears flowing from her golden eyes down her delicate cheeks.
She knew what she must do. Blasting down the door, Blight stepped into the sordid corridors of the brothel, indiscriminately killing patrons, guards and anyone foolish enough to stand in the way of her eldritch power. Stepping over carnage and twisted corpses, Blight exited the establishment that had been her torturous prison.
Under the darkened midday sun, she ran, the power of her master flowing through her, she blurred through the streets and alleyways on waves of exhilaration.
Finally free, she stopped. Looking at the dim halo of the eclipsed sun, Blight threw back her head and, for the first time in her memory, began to laugh.
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For over forty years he had waited for this day, carefully planning, planting the seeds of forbidden knowledge. The darkened skies would usher in a new era. His era. Across the continent, he had distributed parts of the grand ritual, finding individuals who sought power at any cost. Oh they thought that they would be in control, but the fragments that he had sold, given out or allowed to be discovered were but pieces of the whole, and unless the casters were experts, they would never know. Even if they were experts, they would probably not suspect.
The sun was darkened. His servants and unsuspecting contributors were in place. It was time.
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Sanjaya awoke with a start. Somewhere between asleep and awake, he could've sworn he heard a scream. It was dark. He sat up and lit his bedside lamp with a wave of his hand. Elhandriel was still asleep next to the wrought iron chimney. He listened intently... nothing but the dripping of drizzle off the roof and the stillness of winter. Perhaps it was a dream? He quickly pulled on some clothes, grabbed the lamp and and made his way downstairs.
Keeping as quiet as possible so as not to wake anyone, Sanjaya slowly descended the steps entering the tap room. The first thing that he noticed was that Prād was not there. He knew that the monk slept here but Sanjaya had neither seen him sleep, nor noticed any signs of bedding. Presumably, Prād got up too early. Sanjaya usually woke up early too, finding the morning hours to be the best for study and contemplation, but he seldom left his room before breakfast.
Avoiding the tables and chairs, Sanjaya carefully made his way to the fireplace and noticed that a couple of fresh logs had been placed on the coals.
"You're up early prabhu," came the soft sound of Prād's voice. Sanjaya turned to see the dark outline of the monk in the doorway. "I thought I heard a scream, so I came to take a look.... Did you hear anything?"
"I was washing in the bathroom, but I didn't hear anything. Where did it come from?"
Sanjaya thought for a moment. "I'm really not sure, I was asleep and I woke up thinking I had heard a scream, but maybe I was dreaming. I haven't heard anything since."
Sanjaya opened the front door and looked out. Nothing but cold, wet darkness.
He turned back in and saw the young monk sitting next to the fireplace, breathing deeply, with legs crossed and eyes closed. The newly placed logs had just started to catch and the warm red light of the fire spread into the room.
Maybe it was nothing. Sanjaya made his way back upstairs, he had no idea of the time but all notions of sleep had fled his mind.
Some long hours of reading later, Sanjaya heard a familiar knock at the door, he opened it to see Prād with a breakfast tray.
"You were right about the sun," said Prād. "It's still dark outside. Also, I haven't seen Tercia, she's usually making bread by now"
"Crumpets!" exclaimed Elhandriel, jumping up and raising a fist in the air. It seemed that she had a new favorite food. Prād set down the tray and opened a pot of honey, slathering a crumpet in honey and butter before cutting off a portion for the pixie.
After breakfast, Sanjaya returned to his books while Prād continued his usual morning training routine. As the clouds cleared, Prād observed the dim red halo of the eclipsed sun with fascination. From time to time, people came past to buy bread and comment on the unusual phenomenon, but he turned them away - Tercia had not come in and no bread had been baked. Perhaps he should go and check on her, her home was close by - just a minute or two to walk.
As a gloomy midday approached and with no sign of Tercia, Prād decided to pay her a visit. She hadn't indicated that she would not be coming in and had sounded quite excited about the eclipse, so he found her absence strange. He approached the house and was about to knock when he felt a disturbing presence twist his stomach. He paused and a shiver ran down his spine. Some people call it intuition, but that is just those who are untrained. For those who are trained, intuition is a sense like any other, it is the way that the environment impacts the subtle body. Prād instinctively knew that there was something very wrong. Without even knocking, he left to find Jack Slate. The captain would know what to do.
A short while later, Jack, Stuart and Prād arrived at the innkeeper's residence, the halo of the eclipsed sun casting eerie shadows. "Tercia? Bill?!" the captain's voice boomed as he thudded on the door with his gauntleted fist. Did the man sleep in his armour? Prād had certainly never seen him without it. There was no response. The front door was locked but a quick scout around the building revealed that one of the kitchen windows near to the back door was not latched. At the captain's urging, Prad nimbly hopped through the window into the kitchen and stopped, sniffing the air. He could smell blood. Again his stomach twisted but he quickly unlocked the back door allowing Jack and his deputy in. "Smells like blood prabhu."
Jack Slate took point, sword drawn as he slowly stepped from the kitchen and dining area into a short hallway separating the bedrooms. It was not his first time in this house. A faint light flickered from under the door to the main bedroom. "Hello?" he called, not expecting an answer as the salty-sweet smell of fresh blood intensified. Sword at ready, he gripped the door knob and pushed the bedroom door open.
The bedside lamp cast a dim light on two bodies sprawled across the bed, the crumpled sheets drenched with blood. The air in the room was heavy and still, thick with the sharp, metallic tang of fresh iron. Without a word, the captain moved in and opened the window shutters, a grim expression on his grizzled face.
Old Bill's shredded pajamas showed multiple stab wounds - jagged slits through which crimson had seeped, pooled, and begun to congeal into a dark maroon crust. His dead eyes were locked open in an expression of horror. Tercia's corpse slouched next to him, one hand still clutching a kitchen knife, sunk to the hilt into her chest. Her rent nightgown reveled deep, bloody puncture wounds from her stomach to her breasts.
The captain looked at the two men behind him. "Violent, bloody murder, " he muttered. "Raise the hue and cry," he instructed Stuart.
The townsfolk gathered to the cries of murder, approaching the innkeeper's house, looking out for any possible suspects. It was the first time that something like this had happened in this town so there was no precedent.
A chill ran down Sanjaya's spine as he heard the cry. His fears had come to pass. Elhandriel stood up with a start from her perch on the windowsill where she was watching the eclipse. "Take me with you," she demanded as he turned to answer the call. "I want to see."
Sanjaya was about to protest but when he saw the pixie's expression, he changed his mind. Instead, he nodded and placed a book and her bed in his backpack. "Climb in and stay invisible, I might not be able to carry you otherwise." Elhandriel hopped in and peeked out from under the flap, sticking her out tongue. "I've got enough pixie dust to use some magic."
"Really?" Sanjaya shouldered the backpack. "What can you do?" He had avoided asking, not wanting to draw attention to her troubles.
"I...," Elhandriel paused dramatically, "can turn Prād into a hamster."
Sanjaya, being in close proximity, was among the first to respond. He relayed his experience of the early morning to the captain. The standard procedure in situations like this was to leave the scene undisturbed and wait for a coroner, however, there was no qualified coroner in this small village and it would take up to a week to bring one in from the nearest town. At present, there were no suspects. Tercia had amicable relations with most of the townsfolk and Bill generally kept to himself aside from a few drinking buddies. Their only son and heir was known to be studying in the capitol so who would benefit from their death?
After some deliberation and a quick show of hands, it was decided that they would not call in a coroner. Jack Slate and his men would investigate as far as possible and the funeral would be arranged three days from now, and would be organised by Tercia's friend Betty. Sanjaya was asked to document the process.
Notebook in hand, Sanjaya examined the stiff corpses after drawing a crude sketch of the scene. He had seen death and corpses before but this was different. It looked excessively vicious and malicious. He found the scene to be highly unsettling. "Looks like the same knife was used on both of them."
"Agreed," responded the captain. He had stripped off the couple's pajamas and was examining the bloodied punctures. "In fact, it looks like Tercia stabbed herself. See the angle of the knife wounds. From what I make of it, she stabbed her husband thirteen times and then stabbed herself eight times before dying. Not that it makes any sense."
At that moment a voice whispered in Sanjaya's ear like a needle through silk. "There's a powerful and evil spirit below us," Elhandriel's voice held a hint of fear and urgency. "We should leave."
Sanjaya turned towards the captain. "This might be speculation, but I while I was reading the books from the temple, I found a ritual, which, if performed, could apparently lead to possession. Perhaps they were hiding something? I need to get some fresh air and settle my stomach."
Sanjaya headed outside sat down on a nearby bench feeling queasy. Most of the crowd had dispersed and the gloomy late afternoon had brought dark clouds which promised rain. "What exactly did you sense?" He asked his backpack.
The flap of his pack flipped open and a tiny head popped out and looked around. "It was an evil spirit," The pixie replied. "I used my super awesome detection magic and felt an evil spirit under the house."
"Interesting," Sanjaya stroked his beard, "Do you think you could teach that to me?"
Elhandriel put on a serious expression. "I expect crumpets and honey. Pixie sized crumpets, not those huge things that humans make."
Sanjaya smiled. "I'm sure that can be arranged."
Suddenly, shouts erupted from the house, followed by stomping boots and curses. Three pale-faced soldiers burst out of the doorway and turned back, weapons drawn. Jack Slate emerged a moment later. "What is going?" he demanded.
"There's something in the basement sir. We were looking around like you said and then a man appeared out of nowhere but we could see right through him like he was a ghost." Sanjaya recognised the speaker, a soldier named Brax. He had been with them on the temple raid.
Jack frowned. "You all saw this?"
"Yes sir" the three responded in unison.
"Sanjaya? What do you make of it?"
"I'm not an expert, but as far as I know, ghosts only appear under specific circumstances, when there is a lot anger, resentment or something else that prevents the soul from departing, even then, they are rare. I know that some families have friendly ancestral spirits too. With the eclipse, the veil between realms is thin, so maybe if the circumstances are right a ghost could manifest though whose ghost is it? This is more the domain of a priest, but maybe I can find something in the books we got from the temple...."
This was not something that the captain knew how to handle. Spiders? Sure. Bandits, thieves? No problem. Vengeful spirits that he couldn't cut with his sword? Now that was an issue. Unsure of what to do, he had his men place some signs and, as the last vestiges of light disappeared, decided to call it a day.