Hellish Obsession

I’ve searched this city for days, but I’m no closer to catching up to the demoness than when I arrived. I can still sense the evil the witch leaves in her wake, and I know she is still here. She has lost herself in the millions of souls here and can merge with anyone at any moment, further defying my abilities to track her.

Entering a side street, following the trail I’ve become attuned to over the centuries, I pause, looking over the bodies strewn across the small square. Many lay where they fell; others look to have been thrown across the square. Very few of the denizens of this alley are left on their feet. There’s a fresh, bloody gore mixed with the common human waste that is present on many sidewalks in this town. I can see the magical residue of the path that the sorceress took through what must have been a homeless camp.

Looking at this new carnage brings to mind the first time I got this close to catching the murderess. Images I had long since buried, rushing forward to remind me just what she was capable of on a larger scale. Unbidden thoughts of the destruction that had almost made me turn away and give up my oath, bubbled to the surface and reminded me of my shame.

Once, in 1665, I’d gotten almost close enough to hit the witch with a stone cast from a slingshot. I watched in fearful amazement as her soul left her body in a rush of black smoke. The smoke then engulfed four more individuals until it engulfed a fifth young man. Something must have been to the demon’s liking, for the smoke entered the poor youth. She then turned to me in his body and talked in the voice I knew so well, telling me I knew nothing. Then she turned and ran away from me with an unnatural fleetness.

As I watched her run off, stunned at the rapidness of the exchange, I heard a wailing begin. Turning to look, I saw that the four people the smoke had touched but rejected had fallen to the ground, dead or dying. Others that had come to their aid were rapidly exhibiting signs of some fevered infection.

Running after the escaping witch, I had to thread through a mass of sudden pandemic-ridden bodies. In every direction the demoness had run, she left behind her hundreds of sick and dying. The streets were soon littered with bodies, and the smell was overpowering. Soon, I had been gagging from the smell.

I remember the fear I felt when I saw the demon in her natural form for the first time and how my resolve had faltered upon seeing so many dead and dying in that forgotten city. The sickness that had overcome me from the nauseous odors that day is a smell I will never forget. The depression alone weighed me down because I felt at fault for all the deaths then, nearly incapacitating me.

The demoness reminded me why I was seeking revenge, though. There's no telling how long I would have wallowed in my grief-stricken depression if she hadn't intervened. Sending me one of her many evil love letters, with a lock of my sister's beautiful curly auburn hair inside. She woke the flame of vengeance up inside and stoked it to a roaring fire that would never again be doused.

But that was then. And this was now. I know more here in this century than I did in that century. In this City of Angels, I am far wiser than I was long ago in Lunden. I am no longer frightened so easily and am faithful to my oath. She will not find me so easy to sway as I was in the past. I am set on our end.

I grit my teeth against the carnage I see around me, knowing the only way to end it is to end the murderous witch, effectively putting a stop to her evil reign. I clutch the pack on my shoulder tighter and carry on my way. I entreat the Morrigan as I go for the strength I will need to revenge my clan against this demonic fiend who has been my nemesis for so long.

I’m closer to her than I have been in a long time. I can smell the acrid scent of the enchantress all around me. I offer one more plea to my goddess that she will grant me the power I will require when my need arises.

Longing for the peace that will only come once the evil enchantress has died, I continue my search for her. With each step taken, I repeat the names of those lost to me like a prayer.

Athair

Màthair

Mathilda

Liam

Ian, my betrothed

The wee bairn who never received a name

I continued with the rest of my clansmen's names, calling out my cousins, aunts, and uncles. I used the mantra as a cloak, wrapping them around me as a protection spell. With a resolve akin to an obsession, I continue with the eternal pursuit.