Chapter 25: Shoutwell

Chapter 25: Shoutwell

Deep within the sewers of Shoutwell, likeminded people were gathering. Most wore red robes and obscuring hoods, carried ritual serrated knives, and hummed muted chants. They walked in pairs, shoulder to shoulder through the twisting foul tunnels. Muck and ichor dripped from the ceiling and leaked down the walls, but they didn’t care.

They couldn’t, not when something as grand as the Calling was due to start soon.

They walked in low flickering candlelight, eventually reaching a concrete room of worship. An eyeless statue met their gazes, forcing the devout to fall to their knees upon entry. Each gestured with silent prayer, finding their seats among the unholy pews.

Soon their leader took center stage, her hood down and her bandaged eyes on full display. She led the room in chanting, she broached difficult subjects. Some cried, others yelled in agreement. Regardless, she had the room enthralled, the statue of her Lord silently judging from behind.

“It is time to expand,” she said, her white robes flapping despite lacking wind. “House Onryo is weak, they will not stand before us. It is time. Go, my flock, go and spread our Lord’s message.”

As the crowd cheered with raw emotion, one man kept to his seat. A newcomer, one that joined the coalition from the burnt remains of House Icewillow. The man watched with careful eyes, hoping to stay hidden in the shadows of the celebrations.

But the leader had seen.

She raised a single hand, silencing her children.

“What is it, my son?” she asked. “Please, speak your mind!”

Nearly a hundred eyes turned to the man, each pair hidden behind dark cowls. He couldn't feel their sinister minds, however, he could feel their hunger. He was but a mouse, one trapped by countless cats and the fear that came along with it.

He was petrified but a nearby hand raised him to his feet. He was guided forward, just before the podium and stage. The leader stood there patiently waiting, her hands clasped in front of her belly.

Suddenly the man’s hood was pulled down. He cowered with shame, he scrambled to keep his anonymity. It was too late, they all saw, they all knew.

“Ah, I thought all of the Icewillows were killed?” the leader asked.

He waited. He didn’t want to answer. The cold of sharp iron against his back urged him to reconsider. “I-I am only a branch family member. A-a secondary soul in name a-and life.”

A smile befell the leader’s lips. “It matters not what one once was here, only the future of someone can be.”

The man nodded, feeling the knife release its pressure.

A whisper shocked the room, along with a low grumble and bright red light. From within the eyeless statue, crimson shined through. It washed over the coalition, highlighting the most devout. The leader was first and she trembled with acceptance.

“I see!” she explained. “I understand! I will follow your will!”

The man raised his head, dread settling as the red light ignored him and focused elsewhere. It befell those closest to the stage, then those in the first of the pews, then those in the back and the few watching the doors. Everyone was bathed in red, everyone had been baptized with something new.

Except the man.

He ran, right though the pews and towards the sewers. But he never reached the doors. He never passed the midpoint of the room. He was stopped, frozen in fear and unbounded pressure. Suddenly he was spun, and the leader came back into view.

Glenny’s eyes widened and he turned away. The salt was getting to him, irritating his eyes to the point of welling with tears – or at least, that was what he would have said if someone brought it up. The truth was much more meaningful.

As they neared the gate, Alkin spoke up. “Before we enter, I would just like to say a few words. I-I may not look it, but I am indebted for what you three did in Liontrunk. I know you did it for your own reasons but saving my life was not something you three needed to do. If anything, forgetting me would have been the smart thing to do.

“Still, I would like to give my thanks again. I’ve had a lot of time to think about the risk you took during the trip here. You’ve been nothing but cordial even though I have not been. If anything, frankly, I have been rude. House Onryo means more to me than you three might believe and I hope we all can stay acquainted and on good terms later in life.”

Jude slammed a meaty hand on Alkin’s shoulder. “Yeah you were pretty rude at the beginning, but I’ve grown to like you a bit.”

Leland laughed at that. “Remember when you tried to kill me with spirit fire? Good times.”

Alkin reddened.

“I don’t know what the future holds or if I’ll ever return to this city, but it was nice meeting you,” said Glenny.

A rushed guard stopped their entry, however. The man came out in full armor, stepping to stop their approach from the gated city. “Identify yourselves!”

They looked at each other before Alkin sighed and pushed his mount a few steps forward. “I am Alkin Onryo, fourth son of House Onryo. Do you permit my associates and I entry into the city?”

The guard squinted, finding a small crest embroidered into Alkin’s clothes. He motioned them in, but stopped them before they passed the threshold into the city.

“There’s been quite a few murders in the last few days. I suggest a noble like yourself heads straight home. It is not safe on the streets.”

“Murders.” Leland stated.

“How many dead and in what manner? ” Alkin asked.

“Only six so far, but that is estimated to go up quite a bit. The first body was found three days ago in the sewer – squeezed to death. The other five had been squeezed to death as well but in sacrificial ways.”

“What do you mean?”

“Each body has had their eyes gouged out.”

Leland, Jude, and Glenny all leaned back. They took a collective breath.

“What is it?” the guard asked. “You know something, don’tcha?”

They did, and they wished they didn’t. Their parents, while drunk, had talked about some of their more horrid cases during their time as Inquisitors. From serial killers to grotesque artificial plagues, they had seen it all and then some. One such tale was the cause for many sleepless nights when the boys were young. One that still haunted their parents, one that had changed how the Inquisitors saw religion.

“Call for the Inquisitors, the Sightless Cult is in Shoutwell,” Leland whispered.