Eldritch Exorcist 165. Family home

We could see another patrol coming from the city center, so we dove into the side alleys, moving toward the mansions. The battle in the sky now mostly raged over the central spire, far in the distance, above the do still shining over the city.

The people—or rather, the aberrations—were being escorted to the center, leaving the streets empty and silent. We moved through the streets lit by weak light spells, careful not to give away our position from too far.

“You know you could have just killed us with that move, right?” I asked after a few minutes of walking in silence.

“Your question just now could also have killed us. We don’t know what patrols these streets,” Clentus answered without turning to look at .

“Pleeease. We fought the skinwalker in the alley, and nothing showed up.”

“That was before the light in the center went out.”

I sighed. He was right, but I was way too curious about his plan.

“I don’t mind a bit of danger, don’t get wrong, but this is… surprising. What got you so interested in those mansions? Is there another church there?”

He just shook his head at my question.

“Oh, co on. Don’t keep guessing. You want sothing from there, but I doubt it is related to the church. No—they’re set apart on their own strip of land. So the church doesn’t have power there, more of an area for permanent guests. And that ans you want sothing from those permanent guests.”

“Don’t you think the church would have an embassy for etings with those guests?” he finally turned to glance at .

“Sure, but I doubt they’d keep sothing worth risking your life in an embassy. No. A family close to the church would be there as well. Maybe… your family?”

The man finally turned to fully look at . I could see he was nervous as we walked into the unknown, but his gaze was steadfast and resolute.

“You’re not the only one with a legacy you’re after. Soone called Samuel Alhazred should understand.”

“Oh, please. Friends call Sam.”

“Are we friends?”

“Even my enemies call Sam.”

A stretch of silence hung between us.

“Well, then, Sam. You’re not the only one with family and past glories to uphold.”

“Of course, Your Holiness.”

I smiled and moved forward after him.

The walk took us only an hour, since the winding stairway to the mansions began near the western gate. We arrived at the entrance expecting a patrol or another set of guards, but were instead greeted by a massive sealed gate—with no one in front of it.

“Well, that’s either good or ominous,” I said, looking at it.

“This passage originally wasn’t guarded—not from this side, at least. Those in the mansions were allowed free passage into the city. The restriction went the other way around—to keep the church from barging into their business. But I’m pretty sure any guards from the other side are fighting in the sky by now.”

“So Leo wasn’t the only one doing so reading,” I said, looking at him with raised eyebrows.

“No, he wasn’t.”

“Good. Go tap your crosier and let’s go,” I said.

My mood was improving as we went on. I wasn’t very happy about being made to do this, but if it got to my family’s mansion and back, who was I to complain? But instead of going to the gate, the pope shook his head.

“That also ans my crosier won’t open it.”

“Please tell you have a plan and it’s not ‘Sam will fix it.’”

“Those allowed inside were the designated mansion personnel, as well as family heads and three generations of the main line,” he said, looking at with a light smile.

“Oh, you sly motherfucker,” I said, nodding at his sche.

Considering I’m pretty sure I was the only living person twice removed from the family head at the ti, I could have gotten sothing from the man for opening that gate—but now it was just paying him back.

“Fuck, I hate politics,” I muttered as I approached the gate.

It was another decorated gate with massive tal doors opening to the side. But instead of the more castle-like fortifications of the previous one leading out of the city, this one was simpler and more decorative. Another array sealed the gate, and like with most of the magic here, it was way above my pay grade.

I approached it, then—after looking at the pope behind —put my hand on the center of the runic circle by the gate.

I could feel so of my blood leave my hand through my pores. Then, interestingly enough, it returned to the sa way. Next, I could feel a passing pressure on my soul, and the gate popped after the seal unraveled.

The pope had been right. The tal doors jumped aside, revealing a clean, wide staircase leading to the mansions, with no guards around. The place itself was strange. It lacked the boring feeling of a safe zone, but it was also silent and still.

We climbed the stairs, watching out for anything moving near us, until we made it to the top. The stone shelf was higher than the buildings, so standing in front of the pope, I risked snapping my irises open to see what was going on in the darkened city.

This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

And the mont I did, I regretted it.

Sothing was twisting itself around the central spire—an indistinguishable being so wide and vast that looking at it could kill soone. The only saving grace was the darkness combined with the distance. All I saw was an outline—an outline I could not describe or really comprehend as its image ca down like a crushing weight on my mind.

The rest of the city was changing too. Sothing was going on down there as people were herded around, but I couldn’t see it well without risking a glimpse of the thing in the center.

“Co,” said the pope. “You’ll escort to the mansion.”

We walked through the mansion district. Each house was built in a different style, with its own small yard and a family symbol over its decorated entrance. We passed quite a few on our way, and I could tell the mansions, while silent, were not safe zones by any ans. I saw shapes moving inside. Sothing would peek at us, then hide behind a wall the mont we passed. We were being observed by things in the buildings—curious, but unwilling to co out.

“You think they’ll recognize us?” I asked, eting fish-like eyes gazing curiously from a pond by one of the houses.

“I know they’ll recognize ,” he said, not looking in my direction.

“Oh. I opened the gate for you, and now you throw away like a used doll? You break my heart,” I said in a fake-hurt voice.

The pope just sighed as we continued on. Finally, we arrived at the part near the center of the shelf, where the yards and the buildings were visibly larger. Clentus turned right toward one of the houses. I focused my eyes on the sigil decorating the gate leading inside.

It depicted a maned lion with a setting sun behind it. The animal was mid-roar, with its right front paw resting on a harp.

I frowned at it. The harp was familiar in the context of the ancient houses, and, given the limited knowledge preserved, it was most likely connected to sothing substantial.

Then it hit .

“That’s why you knew the blood would be easy to retrieve. That’s why you were so interested in it. You co from David’s bloodline,” I said, looking at the pope.

The man neither denied nor confird. He just pointed to the side.

“You have your own burden to deal with, I imagine.”

Following his finger, I noticed the mansion opposite his.

While Clentus’s family house was built in the Gothic-like style of the city, mostly white stone, bringing to mind a church, the one with my family crest was different. The building was entirely made of cut dark stone, with wooden detailing. Its architectural style was roughly Gothic, as it seed popular in that era, but the details evoked more occult, ritualistic origins, with the wooden arch over the entrance bearing runes burned into it rather than etched in stone. Tall trees grew around the place, making it feel like I was stumbling upon an old castle in the middle of a forest.

I nodded, my previous mixture of excitent and humor turning into seriousness.

“I’ll see you once you’re out,” I said and made my way toward the entrance to the yard.

The walk down the paved road between the trees was strangely unnerving, even for . The previous mansions housed creatures looking at us—things you could see duck down when you turned toward them.

But here it was different.

There was a presence in the forest. Empty spaces between branches seed to form eyes, producing a sensation of being watched—only for the shape to be gone the mont one tried to focus on it. Sothing moved with , always staying at the very edge of my vision.

I didn’t know what to expect as I approached the front door undisturbed. A frown creased my face the mont I reached it. There was no handle. Instead, it was a round door carved with tentacles stretching to the sides and acting like the lock—each appendage ending in a socket in the wall. Looking closer, I noticed mouths and eyes carved into the tentacles, making them look exactly like the appendages of Squirming Void. In the center, from which they spread, was a dormant black crystal.

I first tried to push, but nothing happened.

Then I tried putting my hand in the center, like with the gate to the mansions. That did nothing either.

I tried inserting mana, a drop of blood, anything I could think of.

The simple truth was that the door might not have been ant for , or might require a key, but… in the note left behind by my father, he told to follow my family’s footsteps. He knew there would be a Sabbath, so my ending up here sooner or later wasn’t that much of a stretch.

This should have been openable.

But how?

Then an idea struck . Rembering how my father’s chest opened only once I used both tongues to pronounce the family rune, I once again tried that.

“Open,” I said in the eldritch language.

Nothing. No reaction.

“Let in,” I said, and was only rewarded with more silence.

“Move.”

“Unlock.”

I kept trying other commands, feeling the strain from speaking in that unnatural way, but no matter the word, the door remained unmoved.

I deflated. So part of really thought I was onto sothing.

I tried going around the mansion, but the mont I peered around the corner, a sensation of danger assaulted . I ducked what I was sure was a deadly attack—only to find the sa silent forest all around, no movent, just the presence at the edge of my vision.

Leaving out the idea of going around the house, I went back to the door and looked more closely at every inch of the carving. Dragging my finger over the carved wood, I finally noticed sothing. The tentacles weren’t just similar to those of Squirming Void. They were the sa.

Moving my fingers over to the dormant gem in the middle, I beca sure there was a carving there as well, extrely complicated and delicate.

‘Could it be a spell? Similar to enchantnts, but using eldritch magic?’

I extended myself to the gem, but this ti I called upon eldritch energy—and it reacted. The gem activated, purple light shining deep within it, illuminating a complex, multilayered circle. It was Squirming Void, but at a much higher level than I could ever cast.

I connected to it and spoke again.

“Open,” I commanded—but the tentacles didn’t move.

They were dormant, waiting for a command, but not a verbal one. I realized it as I sensed the spell. They needed direct instructions.

Very detailed instructions, it seed.

I connected more deeply with the song of the deep, letting the magic in and opening my mind to it. Achieving that state proved harder without my consciousness muddled by blood loss, as every survival instinct protested.

But I forced myself deeper.

After a long struggle to silence those instincts, I pushed myself into a trance-like state, humming sothing unintelligible.

I sang to the Void, and deeper yet I fell.

And then, once the feeling of self had almost disappeared, I used my connection to retrieve the knowledge from the deep abyss within , and, through , let it flow into the door.

I sang, letting the Void put words in my mouth.

The loud sound of the tentacles dragging against the door tore out of the trance as I stopped the flow, not having to fight the magic.

But before I could celebrate, I felt my body give as I fell to the ground.

My brain lost control of my physical flesh. It felt like getting off a carousel mid-spin.

I wasn’t unconscious, but my mind was still trying to anchor itself in the physical world. A world ruled by those pesky logical laws. I looked for the signals from my muscles to my brain.

As I lay there, I could swear that through my half-closed lids, I saw sothing move. Sothing on long, thin legs passed over and into the forest.

It took a good few minutes to start moving again. I groaned at my own stupidity for allowing that deep a connection.

I checked my magic and noticed that I had trouble moving not only my body but also my mana. My spirit protested against any more strain.

But now the door stood open, and behind it stood a servant inviting in.