Alessia and Korr rode horses down a dirt road.
“I know how much you want this, but it can’t be done,” Korr said.
“It has to.”
“You know I will ride with you until Rone’s fury strikes us down into pulp. But why are we doing this? Why do you need this so badly?”
“I need to get my magic back. I need to be whole.”
“What if we quit? Made off to the hinterlands with our gold. Drinks and food till we’re fat and die, hopefully stabbed in the back after a dice game.” He shook his head. “I don’t want to get old.”
“I can’t run anymore...” She wanted to say more, but she didn’t know how.
“My axes will always be by your side.”
Alessia nodded—the closest she could get to saying thank you.
“Where are we going, by the way?”
“We need a healer.”
Korr tightened up. “You’re going to Mallendale... You’re going back to the—” Afraid to say the word.
She said it for him. “Church.”
“Alessia, are you... Will you be okay?”
She grimly set her jaw and spurred her horse faster. Korr watched her gallop ahead, awash with emotion, knowing what this meant to her.
A foggy day. The winds blew the clouds away, revealing a massive Baroque cathedral looming atop a hill, overseeing the small city-state under its purview.
Razon, a warm, paternal-looking priest, prayed in a graveyard.
Alessia approached. “Do you pray for the evil ones?”
“Them most of all,” Razon said.
She looked at the church in the distance. “I thought this would be a palace of knowledge. A sanctuary.”
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“Why are you here?”
“I’m up to something. Something big.”
“Vague. But I know it must be important if you came back. After... everything.” He gave her a warm smile. “It’s good to see your face.”
“We’re going to consecrate the Eastlands. But I need a cleric.”
“Finding someone that would dare work with you... it won’t be easy.”
Alessia let out a melancholic snort. “Working with me is the problem?”
“Hate is so powerful because when it’s gone, there’s only anguish. People would rather blame others than look inside.”
“Tell whoever you think would be crazy enough, they get to work with a Seraph.”
“I’ll look. And I’ll find someone. But you have to ask yourself: how do you think you can heal the world before you heal yourself?”
Alessia’s eyes dulled. She turned on her heel and left.
The setting sun cast warm, fire-like light. Townspeople gathered firewood. Alessia watched them with a thousand-yard stare. She was interrupted by—
Landar, a cleric. He had cherry cheeks and a dad bod with broad shoulders. He was cheerful, even when he shouldn’t have been.
“Excuse me. I was told you’re someone I needed to talk to.”
“Razon said you’re not the best or brightest, but that you’ve got a good heart.”
“That a compliment?”
“From him? The highest.”
“So when do I get to meet the angel? I had my hair cut and did all my flagellations just in case.”
“When I think you’re ready. I need someone with powerful magic.”
“I know a few spells.” He waved his hand. “Ex tar nevium!”
The ground shook, and some pebbles rose up in the air a few feet. “Cool, huh?!”
“Not like that. All that cult has taught you how to do is manipulate bits of magic from the air around you. All heart magic.”
The word cult caught Landar’s attention, but he didn’t say anything.
She got close to him. “I need you to work with your inner magic. Gut magic. Your soul.”
“That’s forbidden...”
“And rightfully so. It’s wildly dangerous.”
She pulled out the ring. “But if you can remove the curse from this ring—you’re in.”
“But, how...?”
“Let me show you something.”
Alessia guided Landar to the edge of a river.
“You need to be better than the best to do this, because we’re going to the Spirit Realm.”
“What? That’s not real. Our Lore Keeper preaches the heretics made it up to—”
“Shut up.”
Korr walked up. Landar slightly jumped back. “Oh goodness. Half-orc.”
He looked down. Then kind of up, half smiling and waving. Obviously terrified.
Alessia rolled her eyes. “Landar, meet Korr. Our barbarian.”
Landar waved. “Hello. Let me just say, the treatment you people had during the Venifered Raid. Appalling.”
“You people...” Korr said.
Alessia smirked. “Korr, this is Landar. Might be our cleric.”
“Seems a little small,” Korr said.
Alessia waved her hand, brushing away his concerns. “Doesn’t matter how big his outsides are. It’s his insides that count. I’m taking him to the Spirit Realm to find out.”
Landar raised a hand, as if he were in class. “If the Spirit Realm is real—which I’m still having a hard time believing—what is it?”
“Put your hand down,” Alessia said. “The Spirit Realm is the in-between. Yōkai live not in light nor in dark, but in shadow. Like a feeling wishing to be a thought. Or a thought turning into a feeling. The conduit between the two. When you’ve found your lover cheating—as it builds to a rage, that’s where we’re going. To the liminal moment.”
Landar considered what she said. “Interesting example choice... Okay, so what does it have to do with the haunted lands?”
“Our world can affect the Spirit Realm, tainting it. Giving it a rot. Psychic damage can leave an area haunted.”
“What about someone?”
Korr and Alessia exchanged a glance.
“We’re here,” Alessia said. She motioned toward a waterfall feeding the river.