It was not out of pinewood but of a redolent piece of rosewood that Julius had carved his most beautiful masterpiece.
Julius had long admitted to himself that he was neither a good husband nor a good father. He was a drunk, with wont for pleasures that consumed what little earnings he made from carved idols of angels he sold. He had come from a poor family, and he never really dreamed of making it big. Surviving was enough toil on its own. He knew for sure he would die poor as his parents did. He drowned in liquor even as his heart and liver began to fail. He would die young. It did not bother him much. At least his wife and daughter would be happier without a loser of a husband and father like him, he used to think.
Helena first showed itchy blue rashes on her arms which begged scratching. Two days later, her health went downhill. The light from her obsidian eyes faded, her plumpness thinned until the coughing woman on her deathbed looked nothing like the wife he married. They called it the Blue Fever. They said it was foreigners who brought it to their land. It swept through the coastal town, through the farming villages, then it reached Julius's family.
He had sold all his dolls. He had sold their donkey and sheep. Every item of value in their house had been exchanged for silver to pay for her treatment that did not even work. The priests had advised him to take her to the capital for better spells or care, but he feared the journey would take her before the Blue Fever could.
One night, he remembered, he had the most peaceful sleep he had ever had in the past three turns of the moon. When he woke up, he found Helena lying quietly, still as a doll, devoid of breath like one. He had buried her beneath the rosewood that grew in their backyard, placing a stone with her name carved onto it. That same day, four-year old Apple complained about her itchy legs.
The Blue Fever was most fatal to children. It took only a week. Or perhaps, Apple had been showing signs days before but he was too busy and depressed to properly look after her. It was the Month of Michael, he remembered, when he buried her next to her mother. He shed tears until there was nothing left in him, until all that had remained was an emptiness so profound he felt going mad.
A storm came from the Tainted Sea. As the heavens raged and poured hellish rain, Julius was drowning himself in cheap liquor out of misery. Thunder struck as the gales roared outside. He had heard the snapping of a huge tree. When he came to check in the morning, the rosewood had fallen, its huge old trunk broken by the wind. Apple's tombstone was knocked aside.
Julius had been deeply intoxicated then, still holding onto a half-empty flask of mead. That was why he thought he was only hallucinating when a ball of light floated down from the sky. More golden than sunrise, warm like Helena's touch.
A few days later, Apple was reborn. It was not the same Apple, the Archangel had warned her. It could not be the same. She would not possess her memories, nor her attitude. She could not grow. But he could carve another body in her likeness and transfer her soul there. Julius had done so at least ten times, replacing her body like a spider moulting into a new and much bigger skin. He would find a rosewood and pray as he laboured, etching onto the block the features her daughter could have grown into if only the Blue Fever had not taken her. The Miraculous Song that the mighty Gabriel had gifted him could apply to Apple alone. His fatherly yearning for her, his loss and his misery made it stronger, granting her a human life that none of the other puppets could have. Through Apple's rebirth, the archangel had gifted Julius the chance to atone for his sins, to be a better father. Or so he believed.
Every day that his daughter lived and thrived like a normal human being made the loss less and less painful. It was impressive how the angel's blessing could return a person from the dead, almost.
So, it pained Julius to see Apple turn back to the rosewood puppet she originally was. It reminded him of his suffering, of the fact that his real daughter was dead.
Though Julius was meticulous in her details, Apple's puppet looked barely human at all — save for her raven hair which was real, bought from a singer in another continent. Her eyes made of a dark stone rolled unstably inside wooden sockets. Her painted face revealed traces of wood grain. Her riveted joints clinked as she stood up, emotionless.
My daughter. "Find the demon for me," he ordered it. He turned to the other dolls, "Find him." With Apple in the lead, his army of puppets darted past the gate and into the dark streets of Gallenport. With Apple's innate blessing, she should be able to locate him with ease.
Marco was standing over the pile of rubble that had become of the stone Guardian of Demach — the same symbol emblazoned on the chest of the lad's uniform.
"He is nothing like you, my lord," Julius told him.
Marco picked up pieces of broken glass, blood dripping off of it. "Does it make him a demon then?"
Julius shook his head gently, "No. It doesn't. His capability to handle demonic energy does."
"Are you planning to kill him?"
"It goes without saying, my lord."
"And if you're wrong, like your dau— like your puppet said?"
"Do you think we are wrong? You could have put on a much better fight if you truly believed we are wrong. But you already know."
"I'll exorcise him myself," the young lord muttered, crunching the piece of broken glass. "If my brother has indeed become a demon, it falls unto me to deal with him."
"I'm afraid, our Order cannot honour it. It is dangerous. Now that he knows we are after him, he would not hesitate to fight back. An animal cornered has nothing any more to lose. Gallenport is in peril. Our Order cannot let him destroy this kingdom any more than his kin had done."
"Forgive me, but your Order does not concern me." Slowly, he disappeared under the same gate the puppets had went through.
"Should we stop him?" Patrick asked.
The Lady in Mourning floated down in a disc made out of holy energy. "He is not lying. He is ready to exterminate his own blood. But whether he would go through with it, we shall find out."
Julius was connected to the consciousness of each one of his puppets through a single THREAD OF LIFE, so thin it was almost invisible. By closing his eyes, he could feel and see through them, one at a time. His most potent link was with Apple and it was with her he connected through the THREAD.
She did not disappoint. It made him feel proud of her in a way.
Julius perceived the smell of blood Apple thought to belong to Lucas. In his escape, he had left trails of droplets that betrayed his path. Apple keenly followed it. Gallenport's streets was heavy with the squalid stench of pee and animal droppings, of blocked sewage and moss-eaten walls. But Apple focused on that one filthy scent of blood that wound through unlit houses and damp alleyways, making a beeline for the southern gate. He means to hide in the Delta.
Soon, he caught a whiff of more blood but this time, it was not of Lucas of Vermil alone. It was a revolting smell, one of pain and death. What has he done now? The first corpse entered Julius's linked sight in a corner. It was of a man with his face to the ground. When Apple turned the body over, a gruesome wound greeted them — a long deep slash from one shoulder to the pelvis exposing his ribs, lungs, a dead heart, and entrails. He has shown his true colours.
"The demon has woken," Julius announced to his conclave.
"We should go. Be ready to plant the henge when I say so," the Lady ordered.
"Aye. Glory to Gabriel!"
"Glory to Gabriel!"
Seven figures with hats and veils raced through the city with flowing robes. Julius was at the lead. He occasionally closed his eyes to receive glimpses of Apple's perception. A putrid rankness so strong assaulted his nose he nearly threw up what little he had eaten tonight. The demon's reek. It was the most obnoxious smell, more disgusting beyond bounds than Gallenport's streets when the sewage flooded after a downpour.
Through Apple's ears, he heard the screams of people panicking and suffering. When he opened his eyes, he could glimpse a cloud of dust and smoke rising over the shingle roofings.
"We were too complacent. We have mistaken his silence for weakness," commented Tom Danes, an exorcist Julius had shared a few missions with.
Demons were often proud and wrathful. But their target this time seemed quiet and fearful. It prioritized escape. Perhaps because Demach was crawling with protective runes, it was at a disadvantage there. Once outside, it had unleased its true form.
Dashing through the same alleyways his puppets had passed, they stumbled corpses mutilated in similar manners — a long gash that spilled their insides. Woman, man or child — Lucas of Vermil had spared no one.
"This one's half is missing," Patrick noticed. Julius could barely afford to look without having the urge to vomit in disgust. A second later they ran past the poor victim's other half.
"We owe these souls the extermination of this evil," the Lady in Mourning said. "Julius, do whatever you can to minimize fatalities. We have promised the King Azrael the safety of his city but it seemed we are failing."
By tugging on the Threads of Life connecting him to his puppets, Julius commanded them to rush and thwart the demon's rampage. He felt at least five of them getting severed at once, hacked by the demon's attack.
Even without closing his eyes, Julius could already hear the chaos originating from the city square. He jumped onto a roof and up over another one to find Marco already standing there, his fists atremble. The lad could not help but stare in horror as the demon's silhouette barrelled into a shop to crush a pair of wooden puppets. Screams tore through the night as a group of people became buried in rubble.
Unmoving bodies lay on the ground. In the dark, they were only recognizable by the pool of blood around each of them that reflected the moon and torchlight.
"It is yet to finish its transformation," said Tom.
Lucas of Vermil's mortal body had turned more demonlike but not completely. Every demon has a unique form. Lucas's form bore long claws, each one akin to a blade. They glistened with blood as he snarled and leapt to impale the chest of one puppet and cut off the neck of a second one that managed to pierce through his heart. The demon's movements were springy and quick but just from looking, he lacked thinking and technique. He was slashing at any moving being he spotted like a deranged animal. It seemed as though he had abandoned his attempt to escape and simply decided to kill as much as he could.
A boy crawled out from beneath a fallen wall and made a run for the alley. Unfortunately for him, the demon had spotted him. Lucas poised like a frog and sprang towards him. CLANG! The monster's claws rebounded on a shield. Marco had chanted DIVINE PROVIDENCE. Lucas turned his head toward them, growling an unhuman sound, his eyes whiteless and inky, cheeks lined with dark veins that branched towards his eyes and mouth.
Patrick jumped down in rescue. He gave Lucas a good kick in the face before scooping up the boy and taking him to a distant alley. Then he activated his ELEMENTAL WORSHIP to erect a wall covering all entrances and exits in the square to prevent Lucas from escaping.
"Apple!" Julius called.
Apple's puppet on the ground opened her mechanical jaw and sang a phrase, "SONG OF CREATION!" Blossomless vines sprouted on the ground where she stood. Following her arm, they burst towards Lucas with a frenzy. A circle of puppets was also coming from all directions, clasping daggers. He leapt to dodge. As a demon, he was not so wise.
"It's in the air!" Patrick shouted.
"SONG OF DESTRUCTION!" Along with the sound of trumpets and shells clinking, fractals made of light shot toward Lucas. His claws shattered as they hit. The ones that landed on his body left deep wounds as both flesh and bones broke apart. One arm suffered the brunt of the Lady's attacks as he used it to protect his face, causing it to be torn off his body completely.
The demon roared at the sky as he dropped onto the debris he had made just a moment ago. Julius gave him no time to breath. He tugged on the Threads of Life to send a mob of puppets mugging him again. They stabbed and slashed, taking away flesh, spraying blood onto their dresses and yarn hair.
But suddenly he felt their Threads fading. He used Apple's perception to observe. He's siphoning energy from my puppets!
The pinewood dolls fell in harmony around Lucas who was back on his feet, his claws shed off. Julius watched in horror as a new arm grew from the stump that was left.
"His regeneration is insane," another exorcist exclaimed.
He's a demon after all. No demon is ever easy to deal with.
A bullet of concentrated energy sent Lucas down again, leaving a burning hole where his heart was. But flesh simply grew to cover it. BAM BAM BAM. Marco pinned Lucas down with a rain of energy bullets, forcing him to exhaust his stolen energy as he healed himself. "Stay down!" Marco yelled at him.
The Lady in Mourning said, "We cannot prolong the battle here. We might end up destroying the city. Restrain it, Tom."
Tom Danes heeded her order. "VIRTUE OF FIDELITY!BIND!" Tens of haloes materialized over Lucas. They spiralled down toward him. Strangely, his movements had become slow as he dodged. He grew claws on one hand and slashed at the haloes, managing to cut a few of them. He missed one. The ring of light caught him by the neck. It suddenly shrank, instantly constricting his neck, choking him. The demon clawed at it — a blunder. More haloes descended on him, tying his arms to his body. He dropped to the ground, wriggling like a worm there.
"He's going to break free!" Julius warned.
Indeed, one ring after another dissipated as Lucas simply absorbed the haloes' energy. Tom created more haloes to bind him. Lucas's siphoning could not keep up with Tom's barrage of rings that bound him until he looked like a pupa in a cocoon.
"SONG OF DESTRUCTION!" Shards of light bombarded Lucas's squirming figure, causing blood to seep between the rings as the demon let out a muffled scream. Both of his legs had been severed, his neck almost. Rings disappeared in numbers, but Tom more than duly compensated for it. The Lady yelled, "Henge, now!" Together with her, all other Gabrielic exorcists jumped down to encircle the bound demon. They lifted the sacks off their backs and planted them on the ground around him. With one swift coordinated motion, they unveiled their baggage.
Each one was different, for every person's burden was unique.
Gabrielic exorcists carried their burdens as an act of both pride and penitence. It was the Archangel Gabriel himself who said, "Your sufferings are yours, as are your joys. You are not saved until you have atoned for your sins. Until then, your sins are the cross you must bear."
The Lady in Mourning's cross was a tombstone, etched with runes flanking a name from her past. It stood as tall as her.
Patrick's was a huge sword with a rusted haft, its blade wrapped in dirty fabrics said to be the garments of the innocent lives he had beheaded as an executioner.
The burden Tom Danes had laid bare was a coffin, tied shut by rusted iron chains.
As for Julius's, he called her to his side. His burden. "Apple!"
The puppet obeyed. Apple stood in a henge-like circle along with six other articles covered in runes. They began to murmur a prayer in a language lost before the Descent. Digits etched onto their items began to glow. From beneath Apple's rosewood skin glimmered runes that were hidden before.
Lucas sounded as though he was sobbing. He had stopped struggling, his legs had not grown back. Even then, they should not let their guard down.
The Lady in Mourning chanted, "SABER OF GOD!"
Night appeared to turn into day as the darkness in the sky parted to let down a stream of light, bathing the make-shift henge circle with warmth and holiness. With it came the sound of angels blowing their trumpets, the flaps of their wings and a full deep voice said to be God's. Julius could not understand whatever it was He spoke, but it left him in awe every single time. Julius felt small yet powerful, unspecial yet blessed beyond measure. No human could not be humbled and exalted by it. No demon could not be killed by it.
Julius turned to Marco who had not left his post where they found him. In the illumination of the stream of light, his expression was that of loss and denial. Julius said to him, "We shall take his corpse." If there is a corpse left.
Light spilled past the henge circle, dissolving everything in Julius's vision. The spell was nearly done. We shall meet again, perhaps in another place. "You are a good brother!" He told him, for that was what Apple would have said.