Unveiled Shadows: Tales of a Lich

Chapter 20 - Predicaments

The rain pounded down relentlessly, soaking him to the bone. Each droplet felt like a tiny needle against his skin, intensifying every sensation. The world around him seemed to come alive, every sight, smell, and sound heightened to an almost overwhelming degree.

Dunstan peered out into the gathering darkness, the setting sun painting the sky in shades of red and orange. "Looks like the Blood Moon Brothers will be out soon," he muttered to himself.

Esenora had shared a great deal about them with him. "They're a bunch of cultist wannabes, really," she had said. "They go around committing horrific deeds throughout the king's lands in honour of their so-called esteemed gods, who are usually just demons. Most rational beings would steer clear, but they seem to chase it like some sickening thrill." He remembered her lecturing him.

As the sky darkened further and the distant rumble of thunder grew louder, he paused, listening. A flicker of torchlight danced on the edge of the village. Drawing closer, he saw a young woman being dragged, kicking and screaming, from her home by four hooded men, each wearing strange crimson robes. "And there they are," Dunstan said, unsheathing the bastard blade strapped to his back.

"Please don't! She is so young!" the woman's father pleaded, his voice thick with desperation.

"Ah, but she looks old enough to me... She's got a woman's shape, you see," the biggest of the cultists replied, a cruel grin spreading across his face underneath the large crimson hood. Unmoved by her father's pleas, he stepped forward and cuffed him upside the head.

Dunstan, lurking in the shadows, watched the scene unfold with a clenched jaw, his grip tightening on the hilt of his sword. "Just wait..." he told himself, his eyes narrowing, "I have to be sure, it's them..." he reminded himself.

The woman, her face streaked with tears, begged for mercy, her voice shaking with fear. "Please, I beg of you, spare me," she cried, her words desperate and pleading.

But the cultists only laughed, their mocking tones echoing in the night like a pack of hyenas about to feast on their kill. Their leader stepped closer to the woman, a sinister glint in his eye. "Our master will be pleased with you," he sneered, reaching out to grab her.

She recoiled and kicked him, landing a blow on his jaw. The cultist leader staggered back, cursing, but swiftly regained his composure. "Hold her down!" he barked at two of the others, while another restrained her father. "The old bastard can watch! We'll each have some fun before bringing her back."

"Are you sure about this? Won't he find out once he realizes it doesn't work because she ain't pure?" one of the cultists remarked, his voice laced with doubt.

"Yeah," the others chimed in, their voices echoing with a mix of fear and doubt, each face reflecting the same unease.

The leader, visibly annoyed by the suggestion, reluctantly glanced at the girl before turning back to his men. "Fine... but that doesn't mean we still can't have a bit o' fun in the meantime," he chuckled. "She's got a pretty mouth, after all."

The father's anguished cries filled the air as the cultists pinned the woman down, ripping and tearing at her clothes, exposing her bare breasts in the dark stormy night, what remained of her clothes became caked in mud, the fabric torn and shredded from the struggle. She lay there, exposed and vulnerable, her body shivering in the cold, rainy night air, the flickering torchlight casting eerie shadows across her skin. The cultists leered and jeered, revelling in their cruel dominance. She screamed and fought against them, but she was outnumbered and overpowered.

As Dunstan approached the scene, the cultists seemed oblivious to his presence, focused on their vile intentions. With his hood drawn over his face, Dunstan calmly stepped forward.