When the great father Qarthus

  Has abandoned his flock,

  And by eternal dreams

  His eyes are locked.

  When by the freedom of Conquest

  Destruction is wrought,

  And the city of sea kings

  Is brought to naught.

  When the Desert Shield has rotted

  By famine and plague,

  And Pestilence spread

  It’s terrible shade.

  When the Ocean’s Guard is swallowed

  By a scarlet flood,

  And War is let loose by

  Shedding of familial blood.

  When Death ascends from

  Capital’s fall,

  And demoniac forces come

  To devour it all.

  Then ye shalt know that

  Hell hath arisen.

  From the book of prophecies, chapter XIII, revelations of Qarthus.

  CHAPTER 1

  Karis had been told it was hell outside.

  Just looking out the window of the horse cart she rode in confirmed that warning, for to her right she saw signs that demons had spread to that corner of the Empire. The remains of a battle lay strewn all around, with unburied dead blanketing a vast crop field that had been left desiccated. Some were fully armored knights, their plates losing all shine to dirt and rust and blood. But most had been commonfolk with nothing but a few scraps of thick padding as defense and farming tools for arms, all of them now colored red by the setting sun.

  Fixing her eye on the horizon, she saw the skeletal remains of a farm, no more than a few walls with little to support them. And walking around the structure was a group of figures, silhouetted by the crimson sun, and too faint to make out. But she was sure none were human. Too strange to be human.

  One of the guards on the horse cart’s roof confirmed her suspicions when he blew his trumpet, which was followed by the sound of loading crossbows. “We’ve got a few big ones to the east,” the guardsman said, and as if commanded to do so, the cart driver whipped his horses into haste. The cart shook violently, and the ten or so other people within either tensed up or cried out, the loudest of which was a child that looked no more than a month past its birth.

  They all kept their heads down, but Karis held her sights on the outside. To the back were three other carts, each one flanked by two mounted spearmen. To the left was a lake, the sight of which made Karis think about whether drowning was a preferable alternative. At the front was a walled city, its defenses towering and domineering, its walls covered in holes and claw marks and emblazoned with the Imperial sigil that depicted an eye within a sun. And then to the right, where she had first seen the shaded things, were three demons, two of them small, dog-like creatures with bulbous heads that dragged along the ground as they ran on thick, muscled legs. They were quickly dispensed with by the crossbowmen, whose bolts glowed when shot and burned through their targets with the ease of a warm knife passing through butter. But the third was much hardier, a creature that was double the size of the carts, its body clad in a thick turtle shell, out of which sprouted six, three-jointed human-like arms that tore up the ground with every step the demon took, its head like that of a featherless bird, which swung about with abandon on a long, serpentine neck. The crossbow bolts either bounced off its shell or lodged into its flesh to no effect, its advance unwavering in the barrage.

  Once it caught up with them, the demon crashed head-first into the middle horse cart, smashing through with no resistance as if it were made of glass, sending the large amount of food inside, along with the coachman and guards, flying into the nearby lake. The mounted warriors were quick to charge, their spears glowing as they shouted out a quick prayer, two of them piercing into the sockets through which the creature's arms came out, while the others hit its shell. Unabated by pain, if it felt any, the demon spun around, its long neck swinging like a whip, tripping three of the closest horses, and catching one spearman by the neck with its beak before beheading the man with a single bite. It was quick to dispense with the others, tearing both man and horse apart with its arms and beak, before turning its hungry gaze towards the cart that Karis sat in.

  It dashed with all of its original speed, showing no signs of slowing down from the wounds the spearmen had inflicted. Karis looked to the front and saw the city gate getting closer–saw it open, but the demon closed in faster.

  She slipped a hand under her blue robe and into the satchel she hid beneath it. As she rummaged around, feeling the small stones she kept there, rubbing the glyphs she had carved on them, the ground began to shake even more. Whether it was the cobblestone path the horse cart drove on, or the demon’s weight, Karis did not want to know. She managed to find one stone in particular, feeling the glyph carved upon it with her thumb, after which she brought it to her mouth. The demon began slamming its head against the cart, breaking through its walls. Then, as its beak pierced through, Karis whispered: “Urat,” and the stone she held glowed bright orange. She threw it into the demon’s mouth, the monster swallowing it whole as fire exploded from the stone. The demon flung its head around, slamming it into the ground as flames spewed from its beak.

  It took a few more steps, its head glowing orange, coughing out embers. But they were now beneath the city walls, and close enough for its guards to rain arrows on the thing. Though what finished it off were two thick javelins that pierced its shell and pinned it to the ground, where it writhed for a few seconds before death stilled it, after which the city gates closed shut.

  When the cart stopped, Karis looked to her fellow passengers, all of whom stared back. She made sure to pull her hood further over her forehead, hoping its shade would hide the color of her eye. There was no hint of fear or hatred in any, just exasperation and relief, and none stared too long to arouse fear in her.

  “Come on, get out,” a gruff-sounding man said as he slammed the cart's side. Its doors opened, and they were greeted by a row of guards, all either holding loaded crossbows or unsheathed blades, at the front of which was the speaker, a fat old man whose gambeson was stretched out by his belly. “Fuck me,” he said, “out of all the carts it could have missed it was the one with more mouths to feed.”

  “We could retrieve some of the supplies,” one of the crossbowmen atop the cart said as he jumped down.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  “Not at night. Probably eaten by another demon by tomorrow, but we’ll try then. Maybe hire one of those freeloading hunters to fetch it for us. About the only good they’ve been in months. Now, gather up for inspection.” The fat old man beckoned with one hand, and the cart began to empty, Karis jumping out first while she pulled a gilded amulet out from her robes. He eyed her with suspicion, then grabbed the amulet between thumb and index. It was a simple thing, a large coin that held the depiction of a single eye in the center of sixteen sunrays. “You here on church business?” the man said, hiding none of the hostility in his voice.

  “On a pilgrimage, yes,” Karis said. “Here on my path to Yulvert.”

  “Come a long way, no? All the way from the deep south by the looks of ya.” He grabbed her gently by the chin, lifting her face to him, revealing more of her nut-brown skin in the torchlight, all the while she felt her hood slipping back. “What happened here?” he said as he pulled at the bandage that covered her right eye.

  “A demon.” She kept her left eye only half open so as not to reveal its color. Though for a moment she feared he had seen the red iris in its center. A fear that subsided when he let her go, grunted, then beckoned for the next person to come for inspection.

  “Welcome to the city of Longton,” he said, making it sound like a threat. “Don’t tarry too long.”

  Once Karis was far enough away, she breathed in deep and wiped a single drop of sweat from her brow. After looking around for any witnesses, she grabbed her amulet and stroked its edge three times. On the third pass, the eye and sun rays began to ripple like disturbed water, before reforming again, transforming into the sigil of Mother Moon, one half of the amulet taking on the sideways profile of a matronly woman, while the other had the pockmarked surface of the moon. She gave a silent prayer to the goddess, then turned the amulet back to the sun-eye and went on her way.

  The last vestiges of dusk were fading, and the darkness of night was washing over the city of Longton, now made only visible by torchlight. The streets were empty save for the occasional guard patrols, and most houses were bereft of outgoing light. Karis had never seen homes that large, many two to three storeys, all made of either a dark red brick or timber and looking like they could fit an entire extended family, their doors and windows displaying crudely painted sun-eye sigils.

  Walking among the houses, she was quick to see why the city looked so empty. She stopped before a notice board that was crowded with ragged pieces of paper that swayed in the light breeze. Some showed a drawing of a man with a chinstrap beard and severe eyes, the text underneath the illustration reading: “Curse the false and traitor king Tarsus. Do not follow his lies, and may those that do burn in the heavenly conflagration awaiting all heretics.” Next to the text was the same eye and sun symbol on Karis’ amulet. An official church document, it seemed.

  There were a few individual notices, all for missing pets and loved ones, some looking especially weathered. But thronging out most of the board’s space were copies of the same paper: A drawing of a ghastly figure with long, black hair, fearsome eyes, and a mouth that looked wide enough to envelope a human head, its limbs elongated, with arms that ended with knife-like claws. “Beware the Longton Ripper,” the accompanying text read. “It has taken a hundred lives and will take a hundred more. Do not stay out at night, for that is when it hunts.” Underneath that was a price, five hundred silver, under which it said: “For collection of bounty, see the city guard headquarters.”

  Karis pulled down, rolled up, and pocketed one Ripper flier. Walking around the city some more, she came upon one of the few buildings with lights streaming from its windows. A tavern, if the carved sign depicting a pitcher of ale that hung above the entrance was to be trusted. Busy as well, judging by the commotion. Singing, Karis found out when close enough. A whole chorus of drunkards shouting out the ballad of some hero she had never heard of. It was a strange contrast to the rest of the city, everyone else too scared to even shine a light through their windows, while in there it looked like a celebration.

  And taking a peek through one window, she got a good idea of why, as nearly every man and woman inside was armed and armored. No one wore any uniform; everyone’s getup differed from the rest, some wearing chainmail, some all leather, a few possessing bits of plate. There were even some with darker skin than was regular this far north. Demon hunters by the look of them. No wonder they looked jubilant. Probably expecting a big payday soon enough.

  She did not like the idea of entering. But taverns had often proved the best source for information, depending, of course, on how welcoming its occupants were. So she opened the door with as little fanfare as possible, then closed it slowly so as not to bring attention to her. Not that it helped, as when she turned to face the crowd, she found that all eyes were on her and following along when she walked further in. And as they all got a closer look, their expressions turned from those of curiosity to the hostile, suspicious glances she was so used to from citizens of the Qarthan Empire. The best protection she could hope for was the amulet that she let dangle in full view. But even though her travels had lasted less than a week, she had experienced enough of the Empire to know not all would be convinced. Even in the southern regions, where her nut-brown skin would not stick out as much. And even if she stripped away any signifiers of her people and dressed herself up in Qarthan ornaments, her one eye would always betray her. Her dark red eye that let everyone know that she was nothing more than a–

  “Fuckin Yorrie,” one patron to her left whispered as he gripped the hilt of his dagger.

  She noticed others acting the same, placing their hands near their weapons. A threat? And if so, would they act upon it? There was no bounty for Yor wanderers. At least not officially. Perhaps some of them were thinking a Yor’s head would fetch a bonus with that of the Ripper?

  She tried to show them no fear, never looking one in the eye and keeping a blank expression and a steady breath as she walked towards the tavern's counter. She could not keep from shaking, though, so kept both hands beneath her robes and clenched her teeth to still them. And if any were to put a hand to her chest, they would feel her heart beating as if it wanted to burst out.

  Taking a seat near the counter, she waited for the tavern keeper to ask her what she wanted. That was if service was allotted to such as her. More often than not, she was told to vacate on the first step inside. Expected the same once she felt the floor shake as the tavern keeper walked to her. But upon looking up to meet his eyes, her fear lifted at the sight of the first smile she had seen since her journey’s start. He was a bear of a man, with thick arms, broad shoulders, and a belly large enough to house a beer barrel. His face, though, was round with red cheeks, made friendly by his smile and warm eyes. He slammed a flagon on the counter three times, the impact so loud it echoed through the tavern. His customers turned back to drinking and talking amongst themselves.

  “Don't see many Yor wanderers this far up north,” he said, his use of Yor instead of Yorrie peeling away the last of Karis’ fear of the man.

  “Not a Yor by name,” she said. “Just by blood. And I'm here on pilgrimage. Towards Yulwert. That is, if transport is possible.”

  He gave her a look over, then pointed to her amulet. “May I?”

  She handed it to him. The tavern keeper felt it with his thumb, looked at both sides close up, then dropped it. He then leaned in close enough to whisper. “You know, here in the Empire, all us tradesmen have to, by law, use an official church seal to mark us as approved by the Lord Creator. We are also only allowed to trade amongst other possessors of such seals. So I know a fake when I see it.”

  Karis held his gaze, trying to feign some semblance of confusion. “Well… of course. A valuable skill for one such as yourself.”

  “Word of advice, never trust a trader to tell the truth.” He burst into laughter, then sighed. “As if a common alemonger such as myself could tell one gold trinket from another. As if most could. But your face said it all, little pilgrim, so why not tell me why you're really here?”

  Karis swallowed and took a deep breath. “As I said, I’m on a pilgrimage to Yulvert–”

  “What’s the first line in the Book of Maxims?”

  Karis was struck silent as she searched her memory of what little Qarthan religious dogma she had read, but the thought of what would happen were she to misremember and misquote fogged any recollection.

  “Don't worry, dear,” the tavern keeper said as he shook her shoulder. “Don’t care one bit about you being a Yor. ‘Do no harm to those yet to harm you,’ as the Book of Precepts says. Had many dealings with the Yor. Not officially, mind you. Not supposed to make dealings with those not approved by the church. Have yet to meet one to even so much as swindle me.”

  “Does the Book of Precepts not also say: ‘Suffer not a heretic. Offer them no good health or hospitality. Treat them with the noose instead.’”

  “It’s: ‘Treat them with a spike,’ but yes, it says that as well.” He held out his hand for a shake. “Name’s Ulgram by the way.”

  Karis shook it. His grasp felt warm and soft, Ulgram’s palm so wide it almost enveloped the entirety of her hand. “Karis,” she said, before taking a deep breath. “And it is true that I have come here for…other reasons. I’m looking for someone. A demon hunter by the name of Laurian Cain.”

  Ulgram stroked his chin before saying: “Meet many hunters here. Too many. Most fail to introduce themselves. But even if they do, what good is it to remember? They’re either gone soon to the next hunt or dead. Can you say what he looks like?”

  Karis shook her head. “Only that he may be here.”

  “May?”

  She nodded and sighed.

  “You came all this way, braving who knows how many dangers in lands where people believe those that look like you cavort with demons, all because someone you’re looking for may be here?”

  “Yes.”

  “And why’s that? You wish to hire the man? Because if you need a demon killed, then there is no shortage of hunters.” He gestured towards his clientele. Karis turned to them. Some looked back, and a few among them were playing with their blades, gazing at Karis like she was a prey animal.

  “I need to study the demons,” she said, trying to sound authoritative. Though that was hard with her meek voice. “I have reason to believe Laurian Cain could help me.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “I can not say.”

  Ulgram gave her a worried look. “Karis, how old are you?”

  She had half a mind to lie again, though guessed the tavern keeper could see through whatever falsehoods she would conjure. “Fifteen by the Imperial calendar.”

  “Aye. And far too young to be going after some demon hunter whose place and face you do not even know. It’s dangerous out there. Not just in this city, but all over the Empire. By what trickle of news we get, the entirety of Qarthus’ lands are infested with demons. Food is scarce, as we’ve barely had the safety to harvest much. And what’s more, people are afraid. And a scared person’s more liable to start laying blame on anyone around them in a desperate search for solutions. Anything to feel secure for even a day. And here in the Empire, we’ve had a habit of blaming the Yor for most things. If you want, I can get you out of here. First, keep you safe until the next shipment, then smuggle you out.”

  Karis rose from her seat and bowed. “Your offer is gracious. But I cannot quit now.”

  “And why’s that?”

  “Because if I succeed, there will be no demons.”