“They know to go to Execution Square. They’ll make their way there.”
Aloisia spared one last look to the ashes, now dispersed atop the cobbles. “Let’s go.”
The three of them stalked through the town, weapons at the ready. Silence had fallen on the streets, and Aloisia could not decide if it was a good or bad omen. They followed the winding roads towards Execution Square.
The Watchtower rose into view first, the pale stone structure an ever-present guardian over the town. For what little good it had done them against this enemy.
Aloisia’s breath quickened as they entered Execution Square. The air felt thicker here, as if she were inhaling smog. Ash smudged upon the cobblestones, darkening the light stone of the square. She had never seen this place so empty, abandoned. Not even the guards at the prison remained, nor those at Magistrate Vester’s estate.
The shadows along the streets which opened on the plaza seemed darker, heavier. They shifted, inky mist dripping down the walls, stretching over the ground, tendrils reaching out at the sign of life. But they stalled, waiting. For what, Aloisia did not know.
Footsteps sounded. The metallic creak of a gate. Across the square, a prisoner was being brought out, wrists bound before him. Two guards hauled him through the now unguarded gates.
Fynn.
Mother Lusana marched behind them. Fynn, for all his strength, could not push the guards off, their grips like iron around his biceps.
Aloisia broke into a run towards them. “What are you doing?”
“Stand aside, Huntress,” Lusana ordered. “This ends now. He will command these creatures to stop, and we shall see the truth.”
“Are you out of your mind?” Aloisia yelled. “And what if it isn’t him? What if he cannot command them? You are inviting the Forgotten Gods to yourself as well as him. Do not think they know the difference between a blacksmith and a priestess. People are all the same to them, commoner or royal.”
Lusana ignored her, stepping up onto the platform. The guards forced Fynn to his knees before her.
“Command them,” the Modäiti said, glowering at Fynn. “Order them to leave our town and its people.”
Fynn stared up at her, his charcoal eyes wide with fear.
“Do it. Now.”
Aloisia drew back the bowstring, aimed at Lusana.
The two guards released Fynn and unsheathed their swords.
“Lis, no!” Fynn shouted.
“I could kill all three of you without even blinking,” Aloisia said, her voice not as steady as her hands. “You’d hit the ground before those blades even touched me.”
“I don’t doubt it.” Lusana drew a small blade of her own from her sleeve and pressed it to Fynn’s throat.
Aloisia switched her aim to Lusana’s hand, the one holding the dagger.
“Mr Smith, if you would be so kind as to give your order.”
The shadows crept closer, tendrils slick as oil across the cobbles.
Aloisia loosed the arrow.
Lusana screamed, the blade dropping from her clasp as the arrow pierced her wrist.
Morgan cried, darkness winding around her limbs like vines.
The Forgotten God showed itself, its form shifting from mist to dig claws into her face. Morgan’s bow slipped from her fingers.
Aloisia took a step back, nocking another arrow. Inari began his chant anew. The creature recoiled yet kept its clutch on Morgan, claws sinking deeper, the darkness pressing further. Aloisia took her shot, and the arrow plunged into the Forgotten God’s chest. Still, it did not stop.
Darkness licked at Aloisia’s boots, and she stumbled back a few steps. It entwined around Inari’s wrists. It poured like spilled ink over the square, tendrils reaching for Fynn, for the guards, for Lusana.
