“Well, I guess I should see how deep his madness goes. Plus I might learn something about his boss and their organization too. So… how do I work this particular magical combo?”

  Uriel dutifully buzzed.

  “Huh. Simple then. So let’s get started.”

  Unite will and experience extension.

  The two familiar mind over mind magic spells activated without a hitch, and by virtue of their purely mental framework, they didn’t cause any flashes, sounds or detectable changes, other than the sense that I was now linked to Benedict’s mind and could share his experiences.

  Which I’mma hold off on until I activate the other spells because his experience right now is probably just pain. Now, glimpse the past, and reverie.

  I couldn’t be completely sure what the other spells did. Sure, the first was self explanatory, but the other sounded like it’d be more of a mind magic spell than a time one, but as they activated I felt the existing mind magic bend to accommodate.

  At first, a black ring opened before me and started to show me Benedict’s life in reverse, but as it became entangled with unite will and experience extension, the ring expanded to engulf me and Benedict in a black dome.

  Everything went dark and still and silent. A brief cold overtook the space, but it quickly faded to leave me looking out at the world through Benedict’s eyes, to peer out at his small child-like hands as he first learned to walk in a rather ordinary medieval home under the care of two beaming parents and a gaggle of giddy siblings.

  I was terrified that I’d have to experience everything first hand, moment by moment, for his entire life from here on, especially so when I smelled his suddenly soiled diaper, but then I felt reverie kick in.

  A wave of black pushed me out of him and left me as an intangible observer, while also being able to see and feel him directly. It was a bit weird, but after adjusting to my normal array of expanded senses, I quickly got used to this new form of awareness.

  Alright, now this is more like it. Now let’s take a look at Benedict and see what time has to say about him… And thankfully, it looks like I can control the pace of this playback so hopefully this won’t take too long.

  His childhood was a hectic one. His dad was a scribe and his mom a seamstress, so with his twelve siblings they weren’t particularly wealthy, but they weren’t exactly poor either. If anything, it was pretty normal for the time period, everyone worked at what they could do around the house, the boys were educated by dad, the girls by mom, all so that they could carry on the family trade. The bickering was intense when they were young, but as they got older and illness or misfortune claimed one child after the next, eventually only a bitter Benedict remained.

  As an angry, and now lonely teen, he sought solace away from his parents who threw themselves into work to escape the burden of loss. Apparently the friends he’d made in youth had suffered similar misfortunes and died off, so with nowhere left to turn, he made contact with the church. The Ascendant one of course.

  Their meritocratic doctrines struck a chord with the isolated boy who only ever wanted more of his parents' attention, so he signed up, moved out, and relished their shock at his sudden departure from their lives.

  I frowned. So this is where it started. Where the negative emotions changed into something worse. Even if I couldn’t feel what he does and know his thoughts, that smug, sadistic smirk at their despair gives it all away.

  From there he worked hard, rising through the ranks of the church from menial labor tasks up to supervisory positions, all the way into what I can only see as some sort of special forces–though they were apparently called sectors, and Benedict came to command the twelfth.

  After he climbed high enough to learn the secret of the Ascendant church–that they were out to corrupt and control terrestrial deities, while devouring the choicest ones, and any apostles they find, to grow stronger than mortal people should be–he was eager to do just that, but his reasons surprised me.

  It wasn’t because he himself was power hungry, but because he had nurtured such strong faith in the Creator God that he believed that the terrestrial deities were pretenders, and unworthy of the title of deity or the reverence their positions accrued.

  So he believes that he’s doing God’s will by tearing them down, and his sadistic streak is fed through that path of dominance. Ultimately he’s been taught that this ascendant path will bring him closer to the Creator, but from what glimpses I’ve gotten of his Boss Gregorious, all it’ll really do is turn him into an amalgamated monster. But I can’t figure out why they’d believe this in the first place. Sure the process extends their lifespan, and makes them stronger, but by definition, divinity is beyond mortal grasp. It can’t be claimed and must be given. That’s the point. So their whole faith is wrong… Or there’s more to it that Benedict doesn’t know.

  I watched the rest of his memories play out. The plan to come here and try to subdue me. The smoldering rage and humiliation incurred at my hands–which was rather humbling to experience from his perspective. Then came the deal with Soaria, and the preparations to corrupt Witness.

  Getting his knowledge of the process will hopefully help Uriel find a way to undo it, and hopefully speed up the analysis of Witness’ current state… I don’t need to go any further than this. I know what happens next.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  I ended the spells, and wobbled back to sit on the shattered throne that remained behind me thanks to my partly manifested domain, and leaned my warped walking stick on an arm rest. Then I buried my face in my hands, and spoke into my palms. “So your wickedness is born of loneliness and sorrow. You were groomed and misguided by some sorta ancient man turned monster, but your faith is pure? Cripes!” I lifted my face. “What am I supposed to do with you?”

  He didn’t answer.

  In fact, he didn’t even move.

  “Oh.” I let out a wistful, if partly relieved, sigh. “He’s dead. Guess I won’t need to decide what to do with him now.”

  I let my eyes trail across the ash strewn ground before stopping them at my feet. I almost screamed when I saw a festering black blob about the size of a baseball burbling before me–afraid that some of his blight had survived–but Uriel stopped me with a buzz.

  My lips quivered. “His soul? And I’m to determine what to do with it? But I’m not…” I gripped the rough stone armrests until it hurt. “I see you Benedict. I hear you. You suffered a lot, and ultimately went down the wrong path, but you're still redeemable. I can’t let you into heaven.” I grumbled. “I’ve got no right.” Then cleared my throat. “But I won’t ignore you, and can at least do this much for you.”

  I held out my hand and purged the blight that engulfed his soul. It wasn’t a quick process, and I had to use the time magic acceleration, and loop to burn it all away in an acceptable time frame, but once his soul was shiny and free, I completed his punishment by casting the time magic. reincarnation to send him on to a new life elsewhere.

  As the black bubble created by reincarnation contained and carried off his soul, blinking it away in an instant, I allowed myself to relax a little and stare up at the stars. He was disgusting. But not nearly as revolting as that lich. A product of poor circumstances rather than pure willful evil, so I think a second chance is fair. Don’t you?

  I peered back at the anomaly with my expanded senses, but I, of course, got no answer other than its perpetually steady stare.

  Then Uriel buzzed twice.

  “Okay. Take your time. I’m just glad it can be done.” I glanced over at the newly christened False Witness. “He really did a number on you, didn't he? Your power, mana, and number of traits has gone up, but you’ve lost a couple thousand durability, your loyalty is suppressed, and more than a few traits are pretty sinister sounding… Although, why isn’t there a measure of how much blight you’ve taken in?”

  Uriel buzzed.

  “Oh. I guess that’s why it’s so dangerous then… .”

  I just watched my staff sit there for a while, kinda like one might watch over a friend fresh from danger as they finally get some sleep, and then turned my attention to the last thing on my agenda here.

  Now for you.

  I got up, took hold of False Witness, dispelled my domain, and walked back over to Benedict’s body. I crouched, hesitated a moment, veiled my hand with blight resistance, and brushed aside the scrap of his jacket that concealed the sealed demon.

  It was a little unassuming thing. A cut and polished piece of jet just like one you might stumble across at a jeweler's–sans any metal fastening or ornamentation. I prodded it with a finger, and the interior swirled and churned as if it were filled with an inky fluid, but nothing happened, and I couldn’t even feel that there was anything wrong with it.

  “That’s spooky. The demon is so completely contained that not even the slightest trace is detectable.” I glanced down at my right hand. “If it weren’t for this ring I wouldn’t have even known.”

  I dispersed the blight resistance and picked up the gem. It didn’t hurt, didn’t react, and almost started to feel warm where it sat in my palm. “Interesting. It’s like my touch is burning it. But the real question is what do I do with it? Do I try to interrogate the demon? Do I hold onto it for now and decide later? Or do I just destroy it?”

  ***

  Dakromar trembled.

  Like a deer trapped by a bear.

  Like a peasant confronting a dragon.

  Though they weren’t in direct line of sight yet, Dakromar could sense the presence of its natural enemy, and unlike in the past, this enemy was strong–strong enough to make it prey.

  And since Dakromar was sealed inside the crystal vessel prepared for it, it had no way to escape on its own, let alone exercise its powers.

  Which shouldn’t have been a problem. As a true born demon, spawned from congealed blight as an echo of the Great One’s will, it had no bodily needs, didn’t age, and felt no discomfort being condensed down in such a tiny space. So long as the promise was kept, it would’ve been freed to taint a defeated deity and assimilate with them, but it never imagined that the carrier of its vessel would be defeated, and that the being responsible would be its antithesis: A light that chases away shadows, a light that devours the dark, a pure, brilliant, ineffable light that could snuff it out entirely. A light, that if allowed to grow, could threaten even the Great One’s plans–perhaps even the Great One’s life.

  “S–so pure. Purer than an Apostle of the Creator. M–must taint. M–must consume at all costs… But… I cannot.” The demon rasped, its cold, lifeless voice more akin to a machine than a person, yet even that quaked. For the first time in its millennium long life it felt fear. Never before had it doubted. Never before had it had reason to tread carefully. Even when faced with assimilation by a greater demon, or disassembly at the Great One’s hands it never even flinched, but in the face of this light, everything it stood for, everything it was was reduced to nothing. “M–mission failed. I am lost. My carrier has unwittingly divulged what he knew. A–and I can’t report it. The Great One will be displeased. They despise unknown setbacks.”

  Dakromar writhed in agony as the light brushed away the burnt rags that separated them, and took hold of its vessel. It shrieked and struggled as the light scrutinized it, desperate to conceal even the slightest bit of information from those blinding bright eyes.