Three humans were standing at the door of City Hall. Chavah recognized two as the town sheriff and the old monk Mr. Vane had dismissed as insane. She thought the younger one looked familiar, but his garment was what took her breath away. It was bonafide. Homespun. Mountain weave. It was of her People. It had been made in the depths of the Spine of the Ancients. How had this child been gifted such a garment? She could see the protection spells woven into its patterns, the telltale blue lines of her People’s magic tattooed along his arms. He had been trained by a Shaman. Maybe even a master. His ensorcelled eyes never left her. She could feel the accusation in them. She could feel his confusion at her presence here in the heart of civilization. Chavah’s breath quickened, and for a moment she wondered if he carried a prophecy that would bring this nightmare to its completion.
“Is Mister Vane expecting you, friends?” Was all she said, continuing to play her part.
“No ma’am,” said the Verdant Sorcerer, “but he’s likely to need us if he wants it or not. Please tell him Hasil Angeline has returned with know-how of the Powers.”
Chavah choked back a gasp. She was sure no one knew that the Powers that dwelt in Mr Vane’s inner sanctum existed. Collecting herself, she put on airs again and begged the visitors’ patience, seating them in the parlor. She hastily trotted up to the office on the second floor and went in without knocking.
Jeremiah Vane looked up from his writing. “Prettyful, what’s wrong?” He set down the brilliantly expensive fountain pen and looked concerned. “What is it?”
“Three men,” Chavah choked out. “The Alderman, the Old Prior, and Hasil Angeline returned from the grave are in the parlor.”
Vane snorted. “Show them back out. I have no time for theatrics today.”
“Hasil Angeline has been touched by the People, Mr. Vane. He carries enough of the Verdant to be a Shaman himself. Prior Ayden is not insane. Not anymore. He looks as solemn as death, wearing his old robes with precision. The Alderman is not in a coat. I’ve never seen him without a coat. I know what the touch of an Old One looks like, Jeremiah. He is possessed. A harbinger. When a sorcerer, a paladin, and a harbinger knock on your door, you do not send them away. Something is happening.” She paused, uncertain how far to push, not sure how he would react, and fearful she might stir up in him the darkness that could strike out at any time. “Maybe they can help you. Maybe they have the insight to…to…address some things.”
As expected, his eyes darkened, his face hollowed, his hand clenched the desk and turned to raking claws.
“You know nothing, witch.” But this time the voice was not Mr. Vane’s. This time it was the Powers. “We will deal with the Jaspers ourselves.” The man left without another word.
Chavah followed him to the parlor, praying there would be no bloodshed. He had secured all his usual tools and weapons before leaving the office. He was ready for a fight. But when he walked into the room, he stopped short.
Chavah could not believe her eyes. Benjin Freeman stood with arms outstretched, entangled in a halo of orange tentacles that were made of…light? They pulsed and flowed like they were underwater, and stretched out six or eight feet from the man, making him look like some otherworldly flower. Brother Ayden, once prior of the Brothers of the Holiness Redemption and Sanctuary of Divine Majesty, held a holy symbol in both hands, extended out, and pointed at Jeremiah Vane. The device was the trefoiled union of All-Father, Holy Mother, and Christ-life. And it glowed like it was on fire, molten with the raw anamnesis of a full-blown Paladin, not a washed-out, insane cleric. Hasil Angeline crouched in front of both men, poised to spring like a Spine Hunter. She saw a bone blade in his hand, a thrice-blessed tool of death carved from the remnants of the world-what-was. His eyes leaked blue fire, sparkling with the raw power of the Verdant, the life force of the world. Chavah was terrified at the enormity of supernatural force brought to bear in these three forms.
So too was Jeremiah Vane.
Quicker than lightning, Vane pulled his prototype Colt revolver, firing in 5 quick, percussive bursts. Ayden’s holy symbol darted back and forth, five times connecting with the hot lead and five times reflecting the projectile back to its source. Vane’s off-hand whipped out, now a blackened, gnarled thing of the Powers, and caught each bullet, the impact creating a wave of rippling dark energy radiating out from the lifeless thing. Snarling, Vane leaped at the three men, bone longsword in one hand, knife in the other. As he sailed through the air, all semblance of a living human left him, and he became a blackened husk of bark-like flesh with sunken, glowing red eyes. Ayden caught the longsword on his holy symbol, somehow enlarged to the size of a dinner platter, and was cast violently aside, sliding across the tiled floor to land in a heap against the wall. Hasil deflected the knife blade with his long blade, and once Vane, now an avatar of the Powers, saw that Ayden was indisposed, turned its fury on the Verdant Sorcerer.
Chavah could not follow the blur of the dance that was Hasil and The Powers. In Hasil, she saw the pride and power of her People, his olive skin and glowing tattoos engaging The Powers’ brute force with ease. The struggle ensued for a long 10 minutes. Hasil was panting. Ayden was back up and chanting, every now and then releasing his hands to throw an unseen force at The Powers at just the right moment to unbalance a strike or push Hasil away from one of the other blades. She had no idea what the Alderman was waiting for, but his face was one of stern concentration, like he was waiting for a sign, or to get a clear image of something as yet unseen.
Then it shifted.
One second too slow.
Hasil missed one of the dual-wielded strikes with his singular long-bladed knife, and the bone longsword drew a flaming red line along Hasil’s torso. Crying out, Hasil lunged and collided with The Powers’ body, pulling it with him as Hasil fell to the floor.
Benjin stepped forward and dozens of tentacled arms slashed out, latched on, and lassoed what once was Jeremiah Vane, completely immobilizing him. Hasil leaped up, flicked his blade twice, and both of The Powers’ weapons clunked to the floor. Ayden moved in, his shield now shrunk back to a hand-sized instrument, and placed it against The Powers’ forehead. Smoke erupted as Ayden’s chant grew louder than the beast’s ethereal cries. Benjin’s concentration beaded sweat on his brow, and his enormous arms flexed as the fascination of the Leviathan pulled and tore at The Powers, revealing something far more powerful than any demon Chavah had ever seen. The combined might of the Holy, the Verdant, and the Old One struggled against whatever had taken residence in her employer. Throwing caution to the wind and throwing her overcoat to the floor, Chavah Twohearts stepped into the fray, praying to her grandmothers and grandfathers for the strength to do what she had come to Temperance to do. Her song rose clear and true above the din of combat. Her voice was as tight and registered as Granny Hope had taught her. She nimbly crossed over the tentacles, around the dervish of Hasil Angeline, past the form of Brother Ayden, and right up to what once was Jeremiah Vane’s face. The man she had served these last years. The man she had somehow fallen in love with, knowing this was the ultimate end she had come to secure. His face shifted between two universes. The one side was a man desperate for love and driven by loss. The other was a secret hidden evil long thought buried and contained. The Powers tore at his face, the arms of Leviathan drained the fiend’s life force, the triple spirals of the Church drove the Otherworldy Power from Jeremiah’s body, and he suddenly looked at her with his real face–brilliant blue eyes shining out from the torment of the creature’s possession.
“Help me, Chavah.”
And she did.
Plunging her thrice blessed bone blade into his chest, she used her gift, her Sight, to guide the relic to the connecting point. The part of Jeremiah Vane that was fused to the Powers. The rotten core that had been twisted from a place of love and loss to a place of madness and gloom.
Chavah Twohearts cut Jeremiah Vane free.
The explosion of psychic energy knocked all four of them flat. Vane crumpled to the ground. An enormous translucent winged serpent rose from the man’s body, roared loud enough to shatter all the windows on this floor of City Hall, and then flew off into the depths below.
Only breathing could be heard. Panting, all five humans pulled themselves up. Jeremiah Vane, this time for truth, looked at the others. “This isn’t over,” he panted. Painfully, he collected his weapons and began to reload his gun. “It went downstairs to the Vault. To its source. The place where it took me.”
Chavah walked to his side to help him up. He looked at her and nodded.
“I knew…I knew you were one of the People, but I didn’t…couldn’t…think why you stayed all these years. I watched my own life drift away, losing more and more control under their influence, but you stayed.” He broke contact with her and turned to the men, “And you. I don’t know what to say. Where did you come from? Who are you, really? How? How did you do that?”
“Quintessence,” Benjin whispered.
“Anamnesis,” intoned Ayden.
“Verdance,” muttered Hasil, his eyes burning holes into Chavah.
She felt the blade in its hidden sheath. The one she carried since her Age-Day ceremony. The day she learned of the Powers and its eternal quest to destroy all of creation. The creation she was sent to Temperance by the Elders to protect.
“Why didn’t they tell me you were here and what you were doing?” Hasil demanded. He stepped closer to Chavah. Vane leaped between them.
“Listen here, boy. You can’t talk to her like-”
Hasil’s hands formed a sign, one of his tattoos glowed, and Vane was swept away in concert with the motion of Hasil’s arms.
“I am no boy,” Hasil grated. More calmly, he turned to Chavah and signed, “Please, why are you here?”
“Three years ago, Jeremiah Vane opened a Vault looking for secret knowledge to reunite him with his soul-mate. Instead, he found death. Locked away in the Depths was an entity known only as the Powers. Maybe it once had a name, but we have long forgotten it since the breaking of the world. The Powers is that which wishes for nothing but an end to all that is.”
“All that is,” Benjin muttered, “Sweet sister.” He hunkered down, running his hands along the patterned scarification on his arms.
“I was sent by my Shaman and Granny Hope to keep watch, to inform, and to guide. Jeremiah was able to contain the Power for years, his skill and strength impressed the Elders and I began to support him in his struggle against That Which Cannot Be Conquered.”
“But I lost sight of my purpose.” Vane continued. “The more the thing strung me along, the more despair I felt. The more angry, the more unholy. It took me, piece by piece. It was all I could do to keep it from killing you, Brother Ayden.”
The old man chuckled, “Apparently, the Triune has a purpose for me yet, Mr. Vane.”
“Yes. Yes, it does,” Vane urged. He limped to the other four. “We must take the fight to it. Will you come with me?” He looked at Hasil’s blue glowing eyes, “Will you come back with me to the Vault, and return it to its prison?”
“I cannot,” Chavah spoke, “I must return to the Spine of the Ancients and report. I must return with help. You are not strong enough, Jeremiah Vane.” She signed to Hasil, “He knows not what he does. Dangerous.”
Hasil grunted, “The Verdant is coming in water and fire. Some doors, once opened, cannot be closed.”
“But there is still time,” Chavah pleaded, “if you go now, you may not come back at all.”
“It is time,” Benjin drawled, “Serve or die, this is my time.”
Ayden reset his robes, “Christ-life is undying. The mother guides me. She whispers that this evil must be undone.”
Hasil just looked at her, his hands a blur of sign language, “Go, sister. Bring help. We will hold this line.”
Tears of emotion welled up in her. She knew they could not overcome The Powers in their current state. She walked with them to the deepest levels of City Hall. Jeremiah held her hand the whole way down.
“I cannot thank you enough, Prettyful. All this time, so much obsession, so much anger, and you stayed. You protected me, didn’t you?” He stopped, the tunnel to the Vault beckoning him onward. “I love you, Chavah. God help me. I’m so sorry. Marigold, she. I…I should have known. I…couldn’t see.”
“You go to fight death itself, Jeremiah Vane. If you lose, it will not kill you. It will consume you, make you its puppet, turn you into that which you have fought to overcome. You cannot lose. You must not lose.” The last line choked out of her.
He touched her cheek. A tender, loving gesture. “I have lost one soulmate. I will not lose another. We will accomplish this.” His smile was intended to be reassuring. It was not.
“The Power has many servants. It is the antiChrist,” Chavah looked at Ayden, whose brow furrowed. “It is the Abyss,” she looked at Benjin, who nodded back to her. “It is Death,” her eyes caught Hasil’s and she saw them spark blue with Verdance. “If I don’t see you in a week, I will seek help. I will find others. We will come for you.” She embraced Jeremiah. “I will come back for you,” she whispered.
The four men stood side by side, the instruments of their faiths in their hands, the confidence of their power in their hearts. They looked at each other, one by one until Jeremiah stepped forward to push open the dark door with the silver emblem. As they stepped inside, the tiny human figures of the jamb all cowered in fear, hiding their faces from the humans as they entered.
Chavah wept. As the door snicked shut, she climbed the stairs and began her own journey back to her home. Her heart was heavy, but her purpose was clear.
Half a day later, Chavah looked down at the bustling Seat of Franklin County, on the island state of Tennessee, part of the Federated States of America. In the one thousand, eight hundred thirty-two years since the world broke, there had not been a single report of any ancient evil as strong as the Powers resurging or regaining this type of foothold this side of the Veil. Chavah shivered as the realization struck her: this could be the beginning of the end. Another Breaking. Apocalypse. She studied Temperance one last time. The buildings looked dirty. The people moved without souls. Her breath caught, and her heart raced. Could they undo what had been done? Could they close the door that cannot be closed?
She turned her back and walked into the forest. That was a question for another day.
Ealdsmyth Tabletop Role Playing System 