Salem was a world of witchcraft, sorcery or magic. It may be seen as one of them or all of them. Pick your poison.
Either way, when I was entrapped in the crystal— technically, I wasn't really confined to what it wanted to show me, but rather, it was just my mind as a whole, with the exception of Lucifer and Raphael's consciousness, that was spellbound.
So, with this knowledge, I created an Avatar of me— identical in regards to physique. I sent this Avatar to different lands in the Physical Realm to collect information. How, you ask?
Well— I don't really understand all of this time-stuff too in-depth, but I was detached from my original timeline for the time that I was trapped. Not that time was actually flowing— to be honest, I don't even know if time was flowing or not. It may have been that time was flowing, but my perception of it transcended at a godly rate. Or, time stopped for those who live by the perception of it— and I ascended to a higher dimension of being. I think the former.
Although, none of that matters.
I steadily increased the number of the Avatars and merged every single piece of information into a 'Super Intelligence'. And, no, it won't try to take over my mind— I'm not stupid.
One of the lands that an Avatar visited, Salem— in a parallel timeline, was— to put it lightly, stupidly imbalanced. There's humans and there are Witches— all women, apparently. There are Witch-hunters and there are monsters. I have to say— the fauna is… interesting, to say the least.
You could say that there's quite some discord between the humans and the Witches. Although they signed a treaty which was less effective than the Geneva convention— there wasn't any real relief to the aggression exchanged by the masses of the two.
My Avatar did— as programmed, help a woman on the outskirts of a poison swamp. Little did I know— she was a Witch. That sounds wrong; but it's alright-
It was a cliché situation. An oh-so helpless girl, tumbling down a hill, followed by four cautious inquisitors, clad in white and yellow attire. My Avatar continued to observe. 'Is she a criminal? I don't have enough knowledge of this realm; I'll keep observing.' the Avatar communicated directly to me. "Yeah, yeah. Do whatever you want. Just get the information, get some useful things, hide them, and create your vestige by it".
'Prick…' I heard the Avatar complain. "Hrm… just do your job. You're free to kill yourself after extracting information about this realm".
One of the four men signalled that one person go wrap around the swamp in case the witch uses swamp or illusion magic. And so, one did. A decrepit, old man, armed with a khopesh, strangely buff and malformed, gave a smile with one half of his half-paralysed face, and disappeared into thin air.
'That man…' the Avatar highlighted, 'he's the witch-hunter those men hired'.
"Leave those three wankers alone. They won't even be able to see her in there; much less catch her. Go after the witch-hunter" I ordered. 'How? He's invisible-' the Avatar complained.
"Use different wavelengths of light then. I didn't make you part of the super-intelligence and gave you my body for no reason" I said, "if that doesn't work, use the eyes of Bai Ze, or whatever that thing's name was".
And so, the Avatar made its move and tailed the old man as he flew over the swamp, keeping the girl in its view. 'Who do I do?' it asked.
"Hah…" I sighed, "neutralise him or something; I don't really care what you do to him. But, not before extracting information… and, his left arm".
'Aye, aye-'
The old man flailed his arms back, throwing his robe behind, and revealing… a parasite, of sorts. Arising from a reddish spot on his upper lats, were auspicious appendages of aged flesh, wrapping around the man's arms slowly. He seemed to be in immense pain for but an instant. His arms dropped to his sides as if he had no control of them, whatsoever. Instead, his legs were invigorated, and his speed increased three-fold, almost.
'Is that a symbiote?' the Avatar asked. "Huh… extract it from his body" I ordered, "seems quite interesting".
'He'll reach the girl in a minute or two if this continues. Should I intercept him?'
"Hmm… no. Let him find the girl. Save her at the last moment" I said, "Needless to say, don't let her die".
The old man skid down the green hill, as if he were a professional roller skater, and jumped a distance of more than 20 metres to arrive on the outskirts of the swamp. The musty and putrid air radiates even a number of yards from the swamp. The littoral vegetation bends supernaturally. It was high tide near the sea, and the water—god, forbid it wasn't—bubbled mysteriously. The old man's face displayed obvious concern.
He felt traces of magic as he moved deeper. "Hmph… come out now, little girl-! And, maybe we won't have to kill you. I'm not too big on killing kids" he yelled out.
A blatant lie. "We haven't killed yer mum, y'know. She's still in good hands and will continue to be so—unless I don't return with you, she'll be alright" he said.
"Trust an old man's words, will ya?". Lie upon lie. The churchmen had wrecked her house, burned it down, killed her mother and displayed her head on a pike by the burning house.
"R-really?" a girl's voice echoed in all directions. "Of course-!" the old man exclaimed in delight. Thankful for a complaint, young and naive target. Oh, such a pity it is; such dire circumstances and dangers—exposed to such a young, frail and helpless child.
'Disgusting. You really want me to wait with this atrocity? I can tell apart from truth and lie. This man is sick…'
"This is their world. Just do what I tell you to do" I reminded him.
My mind was afflicted. Possessed, almost. I wasn't my usual, laid-back self, as you can probably see . Honestly speaking, I don't know what the hell happened, but I was not myself.
Liquid splashed as the girl revealed herself. She wore a green, oversized coat that dragged behind her feet; a hood that would cover her glistening, dark black hair, curled around her neck, Her petite physique seemed too weak to even carry her own self, and yet, she ran for hours with the only thing she could remember and ask for her mother by: her wand.
A dark oak wood looking material. The spirals on the wand extended to the very end, where they mysteriously bent into a hook, harbouring a gemstone—of sorts—that floated and moved around its own axis. It pulsed periodically with energy; almost like a heartbeat.
"Lass, do ye know what yer mum is?" he asked, and answered himself in a voice so as to warn her of her mother, "She's a witch…! The Devil's hand in earthly evil. A conduit of His Magick"
"No!" she cried, "My mom helps the people on the outskirts of the wall! You can ask them how good of a person she is-!" and the old man interrupts: "The people said that they know nothing of the Witch".
"She works with the other blessed people-"
"Other people…? Who're these… other people? Do ye know where I can find them?" he interrupted again.
"No-! You'll hurt them. They're the saviours of the Fools-!"
"Ah, well… Not that I need ya. I just need that brain of yours… Come close, little girl" he walked towards her.
--END OF CHAPTER 8--