THE SAINTESS AND THE AFFLICTION| ONC 2023

Souls Of Men

The Calvary was usually a quiet march through the perimeter, which was thinning as the great fog of the beyond advanced.

These days its approach and claim to the land of the living was growing and soon the entirety of earth would not just be consumed by the power of the dragon, but by death itself.

Shepherd John was a herdsman in his station, tasked to keep the congregation, which meant the whole of Christendom.

More than ever, today was rather stressful.

If anyone got consumed by the fog he would have to go in after them and bring them back.

For a normal shepherd, this task would have brought courage or worry. However, as a shepherd one must be prepared for anything and be ready to go anywhere.

His task at hand required great light from within, one which he lacked.

Shepherd John was a wolf in sheep clothing, which had come into the fold as a faithful servant of the dragon.

Normally, when they went on these marches he would follow a lost person with the beacon of light, which he stole from the true and then bring the lost back. Yet, today he had been instructed by the dragon to feed the lost to the dark.

'You are not paying attention to where you are headed, elder.' Shepherd Merriboth exclaimed.

'Apologies.' Shepherd John replied with a thinning smile.

For the past few hours his major obstacle had been none other than this shepherd Merriboth, who was obsessed with lines and formations!

He had the wind to push the man in but that would be an impossible feat seeing as most of the attention was directed on the shepherds.

Months ago, it had been directed that a new territory would be explored as the old one was now entirely consumed by the fog.

As a result the shepherds had been sent out to scour the area.

Now, every step counted as a misstep could mean the end or worse one may become lost and be swallowed, only to return as an affliction - an army of the other side.

Knowing too well about the consequences of what it meant to be lost shepherd John could never understand why these people kept up with their march.

Shepherd Merriboth could well argue the reason just fine.

He would have stated that the march was to bring the fog to a retreat and while this held a sliver of truth to it, the retreat was usually always followed by a double occupation.

It was a vehement back and forth and to Shepherd John, unnecessary.

This ceremony especially frustrated him because it was what had led him to the dragon in the first place: through those god-awful mists.

How lucky he had been though because Lord Fahrenheit had use for him, else he would return an affliction from a shepherd seeking the lost.

The thoughts of the dragon nested in his mind, listening into his thoughts.

It was a terrible invasion he could never get rid of, but if he was opportune to come across the holders of the beacon, their holy fire would be able to seep in through the fog in his mind and expel the dragon's hold and he would be free once more.

'The hour is now' the grating command of the dragon pointed out.

He had been putting off the matter and it could no longer be done.

He looked around him at the congregation of people he had once known as friends and at a weaker point in his life, family.

Shepherd Merriboth presence fell like a shadow behind him and was breathing down his neck, ensuring that he was keeping the line.

Shepherd Merriboth was a shepherd of not just the lost, but shepherds, who lost their way in the pursuit of recovery.

He would make a gift in place of thousands.

Merriboth had deprived Fahrenheit of many lost souls, bringing them out of the dark.

Let the dark have him.

Shepherd Merriboth grabbed shepherd John as soon as he stepped out of line.

'Elder, the congregation watches you. Your very step can lead any astray, if they follow and they will follow because we are the guides, then they will become lost. Nothing can go wrong. These parts are the darkest!' He chastised.

Shepherd John did not pay him any heed, stepping farther out of line and swiftly. 'I think I see one getting lost in the fog.' He cried, knowing that shepherd Merriboth would follow behind.

It was different within he fog, whether his eyes where open or closed, it made no difference to shepherd John.

He shut his eyes instead, feeling before him for the coldest atmosphere.

The coldest parts where long lost trails, and so where paths that led to the Astrays.

However, the warm parts where the newly claimed regions.

Shepherd John felt in the darkness, seeking the coldest, which gripped at his fingers and nestled, crawling fogs seeped into the pores of his skin and slowly gripping his heart.

'Elder' Shepherd Merriboth called, accompanied by an illuminating light that emanated from within him to light his path.

Shepherd John knew he was running thin in time.

Shepherd Merriboth was not just an experienced Shepherd, but a skilled one.

He would mark him out in no time and if he returned out of the fog without delivering a soul he would pay with his own soul.

He quickened his pace until he reached a dead-end.

He could feel the delight mounting in his mind like a migraine.

The dragon was pleased with the offering.

Shepherd Merriboth's firm, large hand grabbed shepherd John's shoulder. 'I have found you. You must have followed a shade. Those apparitions are real deceivers; created especially for shepherds - as an elder you should know this.' His leader chastised.

'I think it is not me that is the fool, but you shepherd.' Shepherd John stated.

Shepherd Merriboth squinted in realization that he had been deceived. 'The Lord is my shepherd...' a cold tentacle stopped the shepherd's words before he could continue.

Even the power of the dark knew the power of words.

Shepherd Merriboth had been calling upon help from the heavens.

The long, slithering tentacle tightened its hold, snuffing the man to unconsciousness, his light dwindling with his presence of mind.

'You will bring me more. I want a dozen.' The imprint of intention came upon shepherd John,

'In exchange for your soul.'