Father Godrick stood in front of the door to Mr. and Mrs. Price's room, setting up the necessary protections required for most Aberrants. Although no systemic way to exorcise an Aberrant every single time existed, universal protections were introduced by the Wizened priests of the god of knowledge, En'Wuin. These Wizened went on pilgrimages across the world to uncover knowledge not yet found among the unsightlier wisdoms. Their mission was to hoard and gather all the knowledge of the world due to how dangerous it could be in the hands of lesser men.
Once in his life, he had held a deep desire to join the Church of En'Wuin. The promises of adventure and secrets had urged his childlike curiosity at the time, yet he became disillusioned by their unwillingness to share the knowledge that they found. Although Godrick was a scholar himself, he could not help but feel that something was wrong with the way that they went about things. All of their Wizened seemed to suffer from horrible cases of paranoia-filled insecurities, many of them going mad during their tenure. Further than that not a single one he had met so far had been pleasant company, always looking at others in a distrustful manner.
Godrick being devoted to the betterment of mankind would not see eye to eye with how they lived. Helping with the progress of society was his goal, imagining bringing about the Golden Age of humanity where they could all be equally free. The idea of obscuring that knowledge, that could help the people, was abhorrent to him. He could not wrap his mind around such a thought unless he speculated with darker musings.
The act of giving away wisdom without an equal exchange was something the Priests of En'Wuin looked down upon. Yet, helping people was a responsibility and duty taught by his parents and his community. Thus he chose to align himself with the Church of Light, in hopes of becoming an exorcist, the most scholastic and recognized position one could gain at a young age and rank.
Godrick turned the knob on the door and looked back at the peasant. His next words were commanding, "Leonard, my good man, you must ready yourself and do as I say to the letter, do you understand?" The peasant's eyes grew fearful.
"You cannot be afraid despite your instincts telling you otherwise. The power of the Will granted to us by the gods," Fervor was now gathering within him, kindling his spirit. "It is one of the strongest forces in the realm and our second most powerful weapon against demons. Be ready, for this will be a battle to determine the soul of your wife." A stony-eyed face greeted the peasant as the words fell from the priest's mouth.
Father Godrick did not open the door until he heard the peasant say, "The ligh' o' 'adrian is with meh Father. Im readies to go."
Godrick opened the door, and upon entering the room, was hit with the scent of sulfur, the heat of flames upon his soul, and the visage of the poor maid's skin. Splotches of charcoal ash were revealing the skin that was already failing to contain the demon. The bed had an outline of her form where the ashed skin would flake off.
Despite the soft silk used to tie her, the skin around her wrists and ankles was raw. Supernatural resilience was not a symptom, nor was inhuman strength, luckily. Some of the demons he had exorcized in the past had granted their host strength enough to incapacitate him, more than once he added as he remembered a particularly disgusting Demon of Dresimox.
The only noticeable sign was her skin, reddened and ashy, necrotic in some areas due to the heat in the room. As soon as they had entered, she began to levitate off the bed until the roping used to tie her down held her a foot off the bed.
"By the gods, she's looking worse for wear than 'fore," uttered the frightened peasant.
"Good to take note of brother, anything else that you could expand on?" asked Godrick, yet with a slight creek of her neck and bestial snarl, one could see that her condition was worsening.
Her figure was marred, laid to waste by the forces within. The feeling of the supernatural pervading the air forced him to reconsider further evaluation. "From what I see, an exorcism is needed before the night ends, or she might not make it till tomorrow. I must question it first though, to see if it can be reasoned with."
"Ya want ta speaks with it, Father?"
"I need to speak with it, yes, brother. Now please, silence, it looks upon us." He finished as she fell onto the bed. She turned and held the men within her sight.
Mrs. Price eyed the men who had entered the room. She did not gaze upon them as humans would one another, no. Her gaze contained a presence not of human nature, unnatural and confused as it gazed with a naive look about. Agitation struck her, with her body's awkward and childlike movements. Overwhelmed by the information her eyes fed her mind, causing tears to fall. The veins would squirm upon her skin as if trying to run away from the presence within. It showed no intention to attack, only weariness; for what Godrick understood as its desire to live.
The demon possessing Mrs. Price seemed gentle as a newborn. Yet that meant nothing to Godrick. They were vicious manipulators who could damn souls to the Hells; many a priest had fallen to their lies and vile truths.
As the men approached, Mrs. Price's eyes showed the priest a truth, causing Godrick a flicker of doubt. Within her eyes laid the image of two souls desperate for survival. The priest ordered the peasant to hold his wife back down onto the bed, and the peasant obliged by grabbing oven mitts to press her down. Tears rolled down his face as he stared at his wife's ashy skin. "I thought of these ere mitts, due to her being all wild and flashing." The peasant assured no one but himself as the priest continued with his task. It was clear he was still overwhelmed by the situation.
Godrick assured him that they would save her when a piercing shriek shattered his thoughts. She had begun to thrash violently, her hair bursting into flames, and her eyes turning into coals. Mr. Price could be seen struggling to maintain his grip on her shoulders as the temperature in the room increased by at least six degrees.
Despite being so close to her burning hair, no signs of burning were visible upon the peasant. Analyzing the situation he judged the creature to be in control; it attempted to manifest using Mrs. Price's body as a conduit. 'It' was no longer a demon.
Godrick's mind raced as he considered his next move. They needed to act fast before the creature manifested causing irreparable damage. But what could they do? He searched within for any solution, any at all. And, while pondering, the thrashing intensified; the heat in the room becoming unbearable.
The woman was now screaming, her voice breaking against itself from the lack of liquids. Snapping sounded out from the ropes as the heat frayed their fibers. Godrick realized they were running out of time. They needed to exorcise the creature from Mrs. Price's body before it was too late. A memory came to him from long ago, it was his childhood and he had been happy back then.
Anwen, as Godrick was known by the age of four, had grown up in the hamlet of Bedouin, the northwestern region of the empire. The most recent acquisitions by the empire, and its inhabitants were the progeny of the Cemerians. These were a people who had lost their lands and now their freedom. This was both good for them as they were now protected by the rule of the Aquila and a curse upon them because of their Elder. A powerful magic user, and the spiritual advisor and protector of the hamlet. Named Arwol by his father and referring to himself as an Elementalist, a mage of the elements. His teachings were passed down to him by his father Asvin. Who had received them from his own father Uaren, after establishing the hamlet of Bedouin.
Despite their difficult circumstances, the hamlet managed to survive.
They had refused to turn back on him, on the history and culture which they had created as a community. Being responsible for the poverty inflicted upon the hamlet, he remained steadfast to them serving anew with a purpose-filled passion. In exchange for this show of loyalty, the elder swore an oath to the heavens. To contribute by providing proper governance and education, once more renewing his vows to the hamlet. The empire responded in a rather mild manner compared to others who would do worse, letting them be while taxing exorbitant amounts from them; this would have doomed them all if Arwol had not succeeded. He taught the residents philosophy, numbers, medicine, and the art of survival; his final teachings were of the art of magic, passed on to the younger generations.
Anwen fascinated by his teachings, would spend hours learning from the wizened old man. Not once had he succeeded in casting the magic the elder had taught him. But only because his spark was still growing. He would often find himself lost in his thoughts, pondering this wisdom, dreaming about wielding his powerful magic.
During a specific day, he had heard the most fascinating of tales from the Elder. The tale of "The Descent of a Fire Elemental" had captured his imagination, he would spend hours pouring over those words, trying to understand the deeper meaning behind the tale.
"They see us as curiosities and playthings," the elder would say, explaining the alienness of these beings. "Not exactly in a cruel way, they are too strange to us. To think that they have human emotions is ignorance. They are aspects of nature given form in another realm to ours, and by their births in our world, they exist in their own realms."
Young Anwen was eager to learn more and asked the elder, "But then how do we protect ourselves if they mistake us for empty shells?"
"Magic," the elder replied with a wide grin. He performed a series of hand gestures and chanting, in a language Anwen later learned as the Primect, first of the Versus. "Through magic, we can protect ourselves from the elementals. It requires knowledge and practice, of course. But with the right skills, we can avoid becoming an empty shell or even communicate with them." As he finished saying this, a small flame in a humanoid form jumped into a doll made of clay.
Anwen learned many things from the elder, "his most gifted disciple," he would say. He learned of Cemeria, their origin, the Higher-Mathematics, Languages, and a step above common medicine --Alchemy. All things which helped him during his service to the church. His innate aptitude for divine miracles was a shameful secret he would never reveal.
These accomplishments would remain shadowed by ignorance and caution. Despite his accomplishments, he was still part of the church and could never express how he came to be such a prodigy. All due to circumstances and his past misfortunes.
As curtains and bedding caught fire, Mr. Goodrich was only half-engulfed in flames -- miraculous that he remained unharmed. When he realized what was happening, he panicked and jumped away, leaving her floating in the air with flames licking at her body. Desperate, he cried out for comfort and reassurance. He had no clue what was going through the mind of the priest. The priest was throwing pointless gestures and words at his wife while he remained frightened.
Father Godrick remained calm and collected, calculating a way to save the woman. Casting a series of soul-soothing miracles to calm her down, followed by the miracle of heat and cool to regulate her body temperature. This particular miracle was granted to him by the church of Knowledge for intra-union assignments.
Having cast as many of the stabilization miracles as he could, he executed the miracle of Communion; granted to him by his archbishop. It was the highest honor anyone of the age of 19 had ever received at the time. The miracle created a barrier between the two recipients, cutting off their link to the outside world, allowing them to share and accept conflicts within their souls by joining them together.
There was an unexpected complication, however. Three souls were joined through the miracle of Communion, causing it to shudder briefly before being held together by the power of divinity coursing through Father Godrick's body and soul.