In the quiet, bustling cafeteria of the hospital, Crowley sat alone at one of the tables, cradling a cup of tea in his hands. The drink, a thoughtful gesture from one of the nurses, had a flavor he found underwhelming, but he sipped it nonetheless. He didn’t want to appear ungrateful for the kindness, especially from staff he knew so well. Crowley had a long history with this hospital. As a priest, he and many of his colleagues from the cathedral frequently ca here to assist the dical staff with their healing magic.
It was a cornerstone of church doctrine that any clergy mber capable of wielding healing magic must tend to the sick, no matter their identity or circumstances. For centuries, the church had been the primary refuge for those in need of dical care, long before the advent of hospitals and modern clinics. The rise of these new institutions had shifted much of the population away from the church for their dical needs, yet the clergy still held a near-monopoly on healing magic. Most mages skilled in this art were mbers of the church, and healing magic remained a vital asset in dicine.
Recognizing their unique capabilities and enduring responsibility, the church maintained its role in aiding the sick by sending clergy to hospitals regularly. Their magic often supplented modern treatnts, bridging the gap between the sacred and the scientific.
Crowley himself had visited this very hospital countless tis as part of his priestly duties. Over the years, he had developed an easy familiarity with the staff, many of whom greeted him warmly whenever he arrived. Sitting there now, nursing the tea, he reflected on how deeply intertwined his life had been with places like this, where the boundaries between faith and dicine blurred in service of those in need.
The cafeteria was unusually quiet today, with only a handful of staff and visitors scattered around. They sat at tables in small clusters, talking in hushed tones or silently nursing cups of tea while waiting for updates on loved ones. The atmosphere was calm, almost serene, a sharp contrast to the chaos Crowley had endured re hours ago.
For him, the stillness felt jarring. The mory of battling the sli creature was still fresh in his mind, its grotesque form and relentless aggression etched into his thoughts. It was, without a doubt, the most harrowing experience of his life. Even the intense pressure he had faced while using his healing magic during critical surgeries paled in comparison. Back then, his role had been clear—nd what was broken, save what could be saved. But in the encounter with the sli, there was no handbook, no guiding principle, only instinct and desperation.
Crowley shifted in his seat, the weight of exhaustion pressing heavily on him. His hands trembled slightly as he took another sip of the lukewarm tea, its bland flavor doing little to calm his nerves. He glanced around at the others, marveling at how normal everything seed.
Suddenly, the door to the cafeteria swung open with a sharp creak, drawing the attention of so inside. Two n entered, their long trench coats swaying as they strode purposefully into the room. Their expressions were serious, their eyes scanning the area with a focused intensity. It was clear they weren’t here for a casual al or a visit.
One of them, a tall man with a stern jawline, paused when his gaze locked onto Crowley. He nudged his companion, a slightly shorter man with a sharp, calculating look, and gestured in Crowley’s direction. The shorter man nodded, muttering sothing under his breath before the pair began making their way toward him.
Crowley felt a flicker of unease but remained seated, his hands tightening slightly around his cup. Judging by their no-nonsense deanor, and the way they carried themselves, these n were almost certainly police officers. Their presence only deepened the sense of gravity lingering over the events of the past few hours. Crowley sat up straighter, bracing himself for whatever questions they were about to ask.
Mike: “Hello, Father Crowley. I'm Officer Mike. We talked a while ago. And, this is my partner, Joe,” he said while gesturing to the other officer. ”Could you answer so questions for us?” he said as he pulled out a chair at the table to take a seat.
Crowley: “Of course. And, um, you said we t before? Sorry, I can’t seem to recall.”
Mike: “I ca to you about the witch hunters before?” he said as both officers seated themselves across the table from Crowley.
Crowley: “Oh! Now I rember. I sent a letter to the witch hunters to see if they would offer you assistance. I suppose with what has happened recently with that organization, you didn’t get the help you needed.”
Mike: “No, we didn’t. But, that’s not what we’re here about.”
Crowley: “I know.”
Mike: “We’ve already heard from Larrs. But, we liked to hear your side of things.”
Crowley: “Well, it started in the morning when I—” he began to trail off and tell his side of the story.
The story Crowley recounted to the officers mirrored much of what Larrs had already described, but his account included additional details that only a mage would have noticed. Crowley spoke about the peculiar aether he sensed within Larrs—a subtle, unsettling energy that lingered. He also described the sli creature’s relentless attacks, explaining how he had repeatedly pushed it back using his magic. However, what puzzled him most was how the creature suddenly disintegrated into dust after his fourth spell—a result entirely unexpected for what was, in essence, a defensive spell.
As Crowley shared his confusion about these unusual occurrences, he couldn’t help but voice his doubts about the nature of the creature and the circumstances surrounding it. Despite his extensive experience with aether manipulation, much of what had transpired defied his understanding.
anwhile, Joe and Mike listened intently, exchanging knowing glances as the story unfolded. Unlike Crowley, they had access to information about the sli creatures from their ongoing investigation. They pieced together elents of Crowley’s account with what they already knew, forming a clearer picture of the situation. While Crowley wrestled with uncertainty, Joe and Mike began to suspect they were closing in on the truth behind the connection between the creature, Larrs, and the strange events plaguing this city.
Mike: “You said the spell you were using was Ugin's Repulsion, correct?”
Crowley: “Yes.”
Mike: “That's not a dangerous spell at all. It shouldn’t be able to do what you're claiming. I don’t think that spell could even give you a bruise, as it’s designed to soften the landing for the person you push away.”
Crowley: “I know, that’s what I don’t understand. I learned that spell to push people away harmlessly, so I don’t understand it. I don’t know why it did that.”
Mike: “On your fourth casting, did you do anything different, possibly?”
The forr priest folded his arms across his chest, his brows furrowing as he sank into deep contemplation. His gaze drifted downward, unfocused, as if searching for clarity in the swirling depths of his thoughts. After a long mont of silence, he finally lifted his head and spoke, his voice asured and deliberate.
Crowley: “I guess for the fourth casting, I used necros as an elent. I was channeling vitos as the elent for Ugin's Repulsion for the first three tis. I decided to switch to necros for the fourth ti. As the necros energies are supposed to make the person being pushed away from Ugin's Repulsion temporarily slow and sluggish. I thought it would help slow it down. But, this doesn't make sense. Even if I used necros with this spell, it shouldn’t have been able to turn sothing like that into dust.”
Joe nodded along, his expression neutral, though his mind raced ahead of Crowley's explanation. He had already pieced together the truth before the forr priest finished speaking.
"That book Jafar read wasn’t exaggerating about Pursuer Slis being incredibly vulnerable to necros," Joe mused silently. "Ugin's Repulsion isn’t even designed to be an offensive spell. Yet, channeling necros into it was enough to completely obliterate the creature. It wasn’t the force of the spell—it was the elent itself that sealed its fate."
Joe: “I’m surprised soone like you can use necros. I didn’t think soone who was the Hand of Light would be able to use that elent,” he said, finally chiming in.
Crowley: “Why?”
Joe: “Isn't it like an evil elent to worshipers of light or sothing? And, priest of the light wouldn’t get caught dead using it?”
Both Mike and Crowley turned to Joe, their expressions a mix of disbelief and bewildernt, as though he had just uttered sothing utterly absurd. Crowley raised an eyebrow, his arms still crossed, while Mike’s mouth twitched, caught sowhere between amusent and outright dismissal.
Crowley: “You… Clearly, don’t go to church.”
Joe: “Am I really that far off base?”
Crowley: "There are… certain groups within the church that might harbor negative opinions about necros," Crowley began carefully, his tone asured. "But they represent an extre minority, and even they wouldn’t go so far as to call necros evil." He paused, gathering his thoughts. "It’s true that within the church, we place great emphasis on vitos, elevating it as a sacred elent—an embodint of the light itself. Many view necros as its counterpart, perhaps even its opposite. But the church does not teach that necros is inherently malevolent. Necros is simply another aspect of the natural world."
Joe: “Huh, well, guess you learn sothing new every day. Anyway, would you say you're quite proficient with necros then? If you're using it with your spells.”
Crowley: “Yes. I’m attuned to that elent. And, while I wouldn’t say I’m a master of it, I feel like I’m quite skilled with utilizing it. At least to the sa level as I handle vitos. You’d be surprised by the practical use necros has for people in the church. It’s the best elent to use when you're trying to break down other magic, like curses. Or, for treating certain illnesses like parasites and cancer.”
Joe: “Hmm, well, from what we’ve been investigating, the reason these things died was because you used those elents. Apparently, necros is extrely lethal to it.”
Crowley: “So you were already investigating this before Larrs. Which ans, there are others involved, as I feared. I had hoped my suspicion of what I found in Larrs wasn't correct.”
Both Mike and Joe exchanged surprised glances at Crowley's comnt. The forr Hand of Light, with his deep ties to the church, seed to possess knowledge about this matter that neither investigator had uncovered yet.
Mike: "Why do you say that?" Mike leaned forward, fixing Crowley with a steady gaze. "Is it because of what you found in Larrs? He ntioned you extracted sothing from him, but he didn’t know what it was. Can you tell us what you discovered?"
Crowley reached into his pocket and retrieved a small quartz crystal, placing it gently on the table with a soft tap. Both officers leaned in to inspect it, their initial impressions were dismissive—at first glance, it appeared to be an ordinary crystal.
It was only after a closer look that they noticed sothing unusual. Suspended in the heart of the crystal was a tiny black dot, seemingly out of place. At first glance, it could have been mistaken for a natural impurity, but Joe’s and Mike’s eyes narrowed in recognition.
These types of crystals were precision-cut for magecraft, and ticulously refined to eliminate imperfections. The presence of any foreign inclusion was no accident—it ant the black dot was sothing else entirely, sothing deliberate. Crowley folded his hands on the table, his face serious as he prepared to explain.
Crowley: “The thing I found inside Larrs is now contained within this crystal,” Crowley explained, tapping the quartz lightly with his finger. “That tiny black dot you see suspended in the center—that’s what I extracted from him. I think it’s a hex fragnt.”
Joe: “Hex fragnt? What's that?”
Crowley: “I have only learned about it recently. It’s, um, how the book put it? It’s supposedly a piece of a greater spell.”
Joe: “That’s not really helping us understand what this is.”
Mike: “Give the man a mont. I’m sure Father Crowley will explain.”
Crowley: “I’m trying my best to explain, but like I said, I’ve only learned about this a few hours ago. Um, I think how it was described is that it guides the direction of a spell. They act as a sort of ‘marker’ you place on people or things. Think of it like a lightning rod, and the spell is the lightning.”
Mike: “OK, I think I kind of get what you're saying. It’s kind of maybe like a programmable spell or a type of divination.”
Joe: “There are countless ways to direct spells to certain targets, but I’ve never heard of hex fragnts ntioned in modern magecraft theory.”
Crowley: “That was the part that truly concerned ,” he began, his voice grave. “I wouldn’t be surprised if neither of you had co across this in modern magecraft theory—hex fragnts are of the realm of forbidden practices. The only ones capable of creating them are cultists. These fragnts are the byproducts of their heinous rituals.”
Crowley paused, swallowing hard before continuing.
Crowley: “Cultists use hex fragnts to mark their intended sacrifices for the Naless Ones or, in so cases, as conduits for directing unfathomably powerful spells at a specific target. These fragnts serve multiple purposes—they act as beacons, allowing the cultists to track their prey, and they guide the monstrous magic they summon to the marked individual. That’s why, when I realized what I had extracted from Larrs, I was deeply alard.”
Both officers stared at the crystal on the table, their expressions tense as Crowley leaned forward slightly.
Crowley: “I believe that the sli creature was not just so random anomaly—it was created by one of the Naless Ones. The hex fragnt in Larrs served as the marker, guiding the creature to him. I suspect this was all part of so unholy sacrificial ritual, designed to appease or empower these dark forces. The implications are... unsettling, to say the least.”
Joe: “Well, I was wondering how these things find and know who their target is. And now we know.”
Mike: “Is that hex fragnt you extracted safe to have around?” he said while pointing at the crystal on the table.
Crowley: “It’s definitely not safe. But, if you're worried it will draw a sli monster to , don’t be. Once extracted and contained in quartz like this, it shouldn’t be able to draw any more of those things to it. Going back to the lightning rod analogy, it is like I wrapped a lightning rod around with thick layers of rubber, less likely to draw any spell towards it now.”
Joe: “How did no one notice this inside Larrs? He went to several doctors and healing mages. I’m sure they must have checked him.”
Crowley: “Look how tiny this thing is in the crystal. It's very easy to miss and not notice it. Even a saint might not be able to notice it. The only way is if you're lucky or are actively looking for it. In my case, I was lucky.”
Mike: “Or, you get those weird feelings Larrs was apparently feeling.”
Crowley: “That’s not the case for everyone,” he explained, his tone asured but urgent. “So people are far more sensitive to the malevolent influence of the Naless Ones than others. For these individuals, that sensitivity can manifest as an acute awareness of their presence—uneasy feelings, creeping dread, or inexplicable emotional disturbances. It’s like a faint echo of their power reverberating through the soul.”
He tapped the crystal lightly, drawing the officers’ eyes back to the black speck within.
Crowley: “The fragnt I extracted from Larrs is a physical extension of one of the Naless Ones’ powers into our world, though it’s a small one. But it’s important to understand—this fragnt is not inherently noticeable. In fact, it’s very likely there are others out there carrying these hex fragnts who remain completely unaware of it. They might not feel any unease or experience any of the sensations like Larrs described. For them, the mark could lie dormant, unnoticed, until it serves its sinister purpose.”
Crowley leaned back slightly, a grim expression crossing his face.
Crowley: “This makes identifying others who are marked even more difficult. The absence of obvious signs doesn’t an they’re safe—it just ans the danger is hidden, waiting.”
Mike: “Hmm. Wait a minute. I just realized. You said you removed the hex fragnt from Larrs. Why was he still attacked?”
Crowley: “I wondered that too. I would think, by removing these fragnts, those creatures, at the very least, shouldn’t have been able to find Larrs. But, I looked at him again once I got him to the hospital, and he had another hex fragnt in him. I removed that hex fragnt, and another one appeared a few minutes later. This ans, right now, there must be a ritual going on sowhere that places these things on him. Realizing that, I drew a protective circle under his bed to prevent him from being marked, which seed to be working so far.”
Mike: “So, that’s why you put that circle under his bed.”
Joe: “These hex fragnts sound similar to curses in so ways, and curses have conditions to them. Is that the sa? And, do you know what the conditions are?”
Crowley: “I don’t know. You would have to look at the instructions of the ritual to know that.”
Joe nodded thoughtfully, his expression giving little away. He already understood the conditions required for the ritual and wasn’t expecting any groundbreaking revelations. Instead, he had been probing Crowley’s explanation to see if there were any subtle, implied conditions that the Book from the Consuming Ooze might have failed to ntion. It wasn’t unusual for these texts to omit nuances or for cultists to exploit hidden layers of such rituals.
Mike: “I think I’ve asked all the questions that I had, what about you?” he said while turning his head to Joe.
Joe: "I have just one more question for you, Mr. Crowley," Joe began, his tone steady but laced with urgency. "Is there any way to use this hex fragnt you extracted to trace its origin or locate the person who cast it? Similar to how divination magic can pinpoint sothing if you have an object connected to what you're searching for? You described hex fragnts as a piece of a greater spell, so I think it might be possible to find the source of the spell with divination magic, if it works the way I understand."
Crowley: “You're talking about a reverse divination.”
Joe: “So, you do know a way.”
Crowley: “I’ve only heard of it. It is sothing witch hunters use. I believe it works by taking sothing under the influence of a naless one and reversing the flow of the influence so that you can pinpoint the source, or origin point, of the influence. They do that with so sort of ritual that was stolen from a cult.”
Joe: “Do you know how to perform this ritual?”
Crowley: “No. You would have to ask the Witch Hunters, which might be difficult with what’s going on with that organization at the mont. So, barring that, you would have to go ask the university if you want to perform a reverse divination with this hex fragnt.”
Joe's mind raced as he pieced together the grim implications. “I need to figure this out fast. If Danny is behind this, the potential number of victims could be staggering. He might target not only the students who tornted him, but also the staff and teachers if he felt they stood by and let it happen. The clock’s ticking, and I can’t rely on the university to analyze this hex fragnt quickly enough.”
He frowned, the weight of the situation pressing heavily on him. “But, I have no choice. The fragnt needs to go to the university—they’re the only ones equipped to handle sothing like this. Once I drop it off, all I can do is hope the other teams are able to follow Danny’s tracks and find where this ritual is being perford.”
Just as he resolved to act, a flash of clarity struck him. Joe suddenly rembered sothing Crowley had said a mont ago.
Joe: “You said… the reverse divination ritual was stolen from a cult.”
Crowley: “That’s right,” he said, his tone thoughtful. “That spell was originally developed by cultists, not the church. It was a tool they used to track down rival factions. Cults are constantly at odds with one another, fighting for power and influence. A spell like that—one capable of pinpointing where other groups were hiding—was invaluable for launching preemptive strikes or ambushes. The witch hunters eventually uncovered the spell during one of their raids on a cult stronghold. Instead of eradicating it along with the other forbidden knowledge, they saw its potential and repurposed it.”
Joe: “Thank you very much for all the information. We’ll be taking this crystal if that is fine with you.”
Crowley: "That’s perfectly fine," Crowley said, his voice steady but warm. "And if you ever find yourself in need of my assistance, please don’t hesitate to reach out. Whether it’s my skills as a healer or anything else I can offer, I’ll do whatever I can to help. This entire ordeal has stirred sothing in —a deep determination to ensure that no one else suffers such a horrifying fate. I want to do my part to prevent more lives from being hurt by sothing so terrible."
Joe: “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said as he picked up the quartz crystal.
Joe wouldn’t have given much weight to an offer of help from a random individual, but this was Steven Crowley, a renowned healing mage whose skills were widely respected. Even though Crowley was no longer affiliated with the church, his reputation and lingering influence within it were undeniable. Joe couldn’t dismiss the potential value of Crowley’s assistance. In fact, he ntally filed away the offer, recognizing it might prove far more useful than it initially appeared.
Joe and Mike rose from their seats and exited the cafeteria, their footsteps echoing faintly in the quiet hospital corridor.
“If what Crowley said is true, and the reverse divination spell was originally devised by a cult, there’s a possibility—albeit slim—that Wren might know how to perform it,” Joe mused. “After all, Wren is a cultist himself. It’s a long shot, but I’ll take it. I’ll visit him tomorrow to see what he knows. If he can’t help, then my next step is delivering this hex fragnt to the university.”
He glanced down at the quartz crystal Crowley had given him, its polished surface catching the light. The tiny black dot suspended at its center seed unnervingly alive, a small but ominous reminder of the dark forces they were dealing with.
(Author's Note: Just putting this here for when a bot scrapes and repost without my permission. Hey there! You're reading a story by , Saberfang. This was likely taken from royal road or scribble hub. If you like my work please read it on those websites or on patreon at /user?u=83747391)
User Comments
0 comments from readers