13th of Fructidor, 1535

Oakhaven, Southern Morrigan

With the soles of his boots falling apart, Preston pushed through a small group of people and ducked into a nearby alleyway. Unfortunately for him, he was leaving a small trail of blood. It was also getting harder to breathe through the bandana covering his nose and mouth. As he turned back to look, two devils were in hot pursuit—one smaller with unevenly shaped horns and a taller one with bandages over one of his eyes.

Preston toppled over stacks of crates and piled up refuse. He picked up a bucket filled with rusty nails and lobbed them all behind him. He needed to create enough space between him and the devils so he could disappear. He was normally great at slipping out from the grasp of a raucous crowd, but these two were relentless.

They screamed at him, “All debts are repaid to Calsaydra. No exceptions!”

Preston veered out of the alleyway and into the street. He frantically jumped through the hustle and bristle of the horse and carriage traffic; With the chaos Preston caused, he hoped it would’ve slowed the devil’s down. They weren’t deterred. Ducking into another alleyway, the fifty-year-old cursed himself for not carrying any weapons like his nephew did. Even his screams of “police” didn’t seem to help him.

Off in the distance, an oily black mass rose from the ground and into the air; a small body formed with stubby arms and legs. The oil on its face solidified into a mask—a wide grin with black fangs with four eyes holes cut out. Red flames poured out from each of the holes.

Preston slid to a stop as the doll-like entity stared at him. This thing. The shade that had been spying on him for the last week and a half. He tried running around it, but its body jerked in midair to try and cut him off.

Its high-pitched, childlike voice started to distort, “Farren grows impatient with you human. Surrender your soul or watch as mistress Calsaydra burns this settlement to the ground.”

Preston looked around for something to swing with; this floating devil construct hardly looked as durable as the devils he was fleeing. But there was nothing for him to use. What could he do? He balled up his fists, but he wasn’t a fighter like his brother-in-law or his nephew. Was this truly the end of the great Preston Jacoby Ledbetter? His head hung in shame. “I promised Ruby we’d live in the lap of luxury during our golden years.” He had lied to just about anyone if it meant he could turn a small profit or if it benefited him in any way, shape, or form. At their handfasting, Preston made a silent promise to Ruby that he’d never involve her in any of his hair-brained schemes. Now, this demonic abomination would make him a liar to one of the few people in the world that mattered to him.

“Fine. Just don’t hurt my dear, s-s-sweet Ruby.”

Preston fell to his knees, resigned to his impending fate. The two devils walked up behind him and dug their claws into his shoulder. They finally had Calsaydra’s bounty. Farren extended out its hands—a giant circle made of incredibly small signum glyphs seared itself onto the ground. The dirt that once stood there became an oily black substance, not too dissimilar from what Farren was made of. Chills ran up Preston’s body as it seemed all the warmth of the midday Fructidor air had run ice cold.

“Do not stir human. It’s only your soul we desire—”

Two streams of water slammed into the faces of the devil with enough force that they fell over backward. The shade spun around to see where the attack had come from. With the loudest crack Preston had ever heard, the shade exploded. A Kassedian stood off in the distance with a thin, condensed stream of water spiraling around his hand.

“Follow me, Human!”

Preston scrambled to his feet and followed the foreigner into the relative safety of the streets.

“Why are you doing this-s-s? And who the hell are you?”

“Keliser Bisera. I heard someone screaming for help, and one of the other humans seemed motivated enough to help,” the Kassedian man explained.

Preston was grateful to this…blue-skinned individual. This was the first time he’d ever seen a Kassedian up close. He was tall, maybe five centimeters shorter than Oleander. His ears were long and pointed, and he appeared to have some degree of control over them as they independently moved to adjust to the sounds happening around them. He had a lean build, and it looked like he could run for hours, whereas Preston was about to keel over. His wavy, shoulder-length black hair was flying behind him. He had a tuft of black hair growing from his chin.

A fireball flew between Keliser’s and Preston’s heads; it exploded upon impact with a nearby bench. A second one grazed over Preston’s bald spot. As Keliser looked back at the devils chasing them, a single word passed his lips. Preston heard it, but the word faded from his memory as if the word was plucked from his mind intentionally. But as Keliser said the word, two spheres of water formed in his hands. He launched two streams of water from his palms, but this time the devils knew what to expect and Keliser’s blasts missed.

“How? How the bloody hell did you do that?”

“You don’t know anything about Kassedians, do you?”

“No, not at all. There!” Preston pointed at an establishment with a sign that read, The Shepherd’s Respite. “My nephew’s told me about s-s-starting tavern brawls-s-s, we might be able to whip up a frenzy in there, maybe find a few hunters-s-s while we’re at it.”

“Sounds like a plan, Hu—”

“—Pres-s-ston.”

“Strange name. Strange way of speaking if you don’t mind me saying.”

“I can explain later.”

The Shepherd’s Respite was on the other side of the town square. They would have to navigate around the town’s central fixture, a massive five-hundred-year-old oak tree. Its dozens of branches spread out like arcs of electricity.

“You humans chose a strange and small tree to build a settlement around. It’s nothing compared to the Prennator Tree in Roselon.”

Another black fireball soared past their heads and split apart within the tree’s limbs.

“Well if thos-s-se two catch up to ussss, neither of ussss will be s-s-seeing anything again,” Preston remarked.

The black flames traveled at a quick pace up the tree. Keliser, thinking quickly, formed a water whip in each of his hands and swatted wildly at the branches above him. He stopped the flames in their tracks and sent several older tree limbs crashing down. A large bundle of thick branches collapsed onto one of the devils, and a quick burst of water knocked the other one over. Keliser turned back and patted Preston on the shoulder urging him to pick up the pace.

The two of them ran into Shepherd’s Respite, where Preston’s legs finally gave out. The bottoms of his boots were completely gone and his tender feet were cut up and bloody. Preston still crawled toward the other end of the tavern, trying to find any place to lie low.

“We need help, devils are chasing us!” Keliser called out to the patrons.

The people immediately fled from the tavern as soon as the word devil was uttered. Keliser was flabbergasted.

“I thought you humans prided yourselves on bravery and duty to others.”

“Well a lot of people can’t s-s-shoot water from their hands-s-s, can they?” Preston remarked.

“Can they not?” Keliser asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Every first born Kassedian knows a word of the gods, it’s how we gain control over certain aspects of nature. You don’t have anything—wait no, you Humans get blessings.”

“I can count the be people I know with bless-s-sings on one fucking hand,” Preston remarked.

Keliser raised his eyebrows and spoke to himself, “Were the Humans always this weak?”

As the two devils reached the entranceway to the tavern, the barkeep and any lingering patrons either escaped upstairs or jumped out through the windows. Keliser still had his water whips coiled around his arms. Preston had just managed to pull himself up using a table for support.

One of the devils spoke, “If you wish to surrender and give us the human peacefully, we won’t kill you. We’ll instead see if Master Azephra would like to turn you into one of his many fine creations.”

The one-eyed devil spoke, “He looks like he’d become a Selkie.”

The smaller one remarked, “No, I think he’d make a decent Cecropian.”

Preston had no idea what a Selkie or Cecropian was, but if they were in any way associated with the devils, then it would probably be a fate worse than death.

“Look, Kelis-s-ser—”

“—Not another word.”

In a flash, the two devils lobbed fireballs across the bar. Keliser flailed his whips about; he managed to diminish the flames before they could reach him or Preston, but he was entirely on the defensive. Out of the corner of his eyes, he spotted a wine bottle on the bartop—with the right amount of speed and force—he whipped it right into the face of the smaller devil.

The hellish entity stumbled back and knocked into a table that sat the only remaining patron in the bar—a large figure wearing a cloak. Their glass of alcohol slid off the table and crashed on the floor. The person slammed their hands on the table and stood up; to Preston’s surprise, this was one of the few individuals he’d ever seen that was taller than Oleander.

“I wasn’t finished with that,” a deep, feminine voice said bluntly. She grabbed the smaller devil and threw him at his companion.

Preston crawled around to the other side of the bar and peeked out to watch the now two-on-two fight. Keliser being a smidge shorter and leaner than the devil allowed him to easily duck in and out of the devil’s untrained punches and swipes. The cloaked woman on the other hand had a wider frame with muscular arms, she was able to knock away any stray hits from the smaller devil.

She rolled up her sleeves and started incorporating elbow strikes. Preston was shocked to see that her skin was green with strange markings going down her arms. “What’s a Bemerog and a Kassedian doing this far into Morrigan?”

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Keliser breaking a chair on his attacker’s back. An equally attention-grabbing sound came from the Bemerog woman as the point of her elbow collided with her devil’s face—black blood poured out of the demonic entity’s nose like a leaky faucet.

The two hellish entities were knocked back into each other. Their patience ran thin, and they had a job to finish. Their eyes rolled back, they inhaled deeply and breathed massive jets of black fire. Keliser summoned his jet of water from his hands to keep the flames at bay. The Bemerog woman jumped behind an overturned table. Preston watched as the tattooed markings on her arms began to glow. Purple energy circled her right arm; as she stood up to face the flames, the purple energy quickly spread out and solidified into a shield made of translucent hexagonal plates.

She stepped forward, completely unphased, and pushed back the devil’s flames. Keliser was able to repulse the flames coming towards him with a second burst of water. The tall woman slammed her shield into the first devil, causing him to stumble back into the other devil. Both jets of fire dissipated. Keliser jumped onto his opponent—wrapping him up in a standing submission hold. With his free hand, Keliser pressed his palm against the devil’s mouth and nose—he was going to suffocate him.

The Bemerog woman swung at her devil’s head and sent him stumbling over to the bar. Preston jumped up and broke a bottle over the monster’s head. The devil took his eyes off the Bemerog woman and tried to swipe at Preston.

The devil said as black blood slid down his face, “You’ll burn, you’ll all burn now that Calsaydra will have to personally collect your—”

The woman had rolled up her cloak and used it as a garrot; her boot was planted firmly between the back of the devil’s neck and the top of his shoulders. He tried to jerk himself free, but he couldn’t. She swung the devil over to Preston.

“Beat him!” She demanded.

Preston grabbed bottle after bottle from the barkeep’s shelves and shattered them over the devil’s head until he fell to the ground unresponsive. Preston looked over to see Keliser and his devil on the ground surrounded by a pool of water. The Kassedian got up to his feet and pulled out the moisture from his soaked clothes.

“I think,” Keliser gasped for air, “I think that’ll take care of them for now.”

Preston hobbled from around the bar and vigorously shook the Bemerog’s hand.

“I don’t know how I can repay you missss…”

“Geshka.”

Preston couldn’t hide the look of exhaustion and fear on his face, but this woman was completely nonchalant. Her long brown hair fell down her back before stopping at her waist. Her fangs were thick but relatively short, they barely poked out from under her lips. She had a tough appearance, but when Preston looked at her blue eyes, they shuttered and her gaze averted.

“Must you stare?” Geshka asked.

“Oh, my apologies,” he quickly looked around to diffuse the awkwardness, “Keliser! You without your help, I would’ve been taken to Hell or who knows where.”

“Think nothing of it,” Keliser remarked, “Any devil taken out of this world is its own reward.”

“Agreed,” Geshka replied.

A small black wisp appeared in between the two devils’ horns. They were slowly regaining consciousness. A puddle of black oil appeared on the bartop and reformed into Farren, except they were wearing a different mask. This mask looked dog-like except it had long whiskers and appeared very smooth…and wet.

“Farren grows weary,” the shade spoke as oily tendrils erupted from its back. Its mask also split in half revealing a large jagged maw with razor-sharp teeth.

Geshka’s shield started ripping itself apart until it was a series of disconnected hexagonal plates. She pointed her hand at the charging shade—the plates formed a hemisphere that slammed down onto the shade and trapped it. Its screams of anger and frustration were muffled; the shade’s body erupted into a black mass that whipped its tendrils against the barrier.

The same marking on Geshka’s arm started glowing again—this time twice as many hexagonal plates appeared around her. With a flick from both of her hands, the two devils were imprisoned as well, although their struggling was starting to show noticeable cracks in the translucent plates.

“That won’t hold them for long,” Geska warned.

“My hous-s-se! It’s-s-s not too far away from here,” Preston remarked.

Keliser walked up to Preston and Geshka. He looked visibly tired and paler around his face. Preston reasoned that whatever process allowed Keliser to manipulate water was taking its toll on him.

“Can you walk?” Keliser asked.

Preston looked down, the bleeding had stopped but his feet were extremely raw. Geshka sighed loudly as she gestured for Preston to get on her back. Preston directed the two of them to his house as quickly as possible.