Chapter 13: Something Strange

[POV: Lydia]

“Holy Lance~!” Lydia’s voice rang clear with sacred authority, and the spear of light obeyed. 

It shot forward, searing through the shadowy form before her. In an instant, the spirit disintegrated, unraveling like smoke scattered by the wind. Silver light burned through his silhouette until nothing remained but motes of ether, flickering and fading into the morning air.

Lydia lowered her glowing hand slowly, eyes narrowed at the empty space. “That’s... new.”

It wasn’t every day an evil spirit just strolled into a consecrated church and knocked on the front door. The outside may have looked abandoned with the crumbling stone, vines choking the walls, and windows dulled by dust, but the enchantments woven beneath the bricks still held strong. The sacred formations, carved with divine runes and masked by age-old illusion, should’ve repelled anything remotely unholy.

And yet, he entered. And more curiously, he surrendered. Not once did the spirit fight back or try to flee.

She turned her attention to the child now cradled in her arms. The girl had gone limp after the exorcism, but her breathing remained steady.

“Stranger and stranger things are happening across the lands…” Lydia muttered. “And this is definitely not the worst of it.”

She rose to her feet, careful with the child, and carried her through the nave of the church, past rows of dusty pews and a cracked altar. Down a narrow hall, she pushed open a wooden door and entered her private quarters.

The room was modest in every way. A single bed tucked into the corner, its sheets plain but clean. A desk cluttered with papers, candle wax, and worn writing tools sat beneath a narrow window. Shelves lined the wall, most filled with tomes of faith, ancient lore, and herbal remedies. The scent of old parchment and dried sage lingered in the air.

Lydia laid the girl gently on the bed, brushing silver strands from her face. She checked her forehead and arms, examining her skin for any of the usual signs such as clammy pallor, fevered trembling, dry lips, or unconscious muttering. There were none.

She frowned, murmuring to herself. “What do we have here…?”

Possession always left marks. But this girl bore no fever, no dehydration, and no babbling curses. She was asleep, yes, but far too peaceful. That raised more questions than answers. What exactly had she exorcised?

Lydia stepped to the tall bookshelf in the corner and pulled down a dusty tome. She flipped through its pages, pausing at a chapter on disembodied entities. Spirits were classified loosely from elemental sprites, ghostly revenants, corrupted echoes, and of course, evil spirits. The latter could be either the twisted remnants of human souls or, in rare cases, corrupted nature sprites.

She thought back to the man’s face. He hadn’t looked like a wraith or poltergeist. No grotesque deformities, no mask of rage or madness. Just a strange, tired, dead, and oddly composed specter.

“It can’t be an ancient evil spirit,” she murmured, setting the tome aside. “If he’s an evil spirit, I would have read about him somewhere. Or at least heard something.”

But even as she reached for another book, her hands paused. What was the point? He was gone now, scattered to the ether. If he had been a threat, he wasn’t anymore. And if he hadn’t been...?

She turned to the bed. The girl stirred, brow twitching, lips parting in a whisper.

Lydia crossed the room and sat in the chair beside her, waiting. A moment later, the girl’s eyes snapped open with a sharp glimmer of clarity cutting through her dazed gaze.

“Where’s Ren!?”

She tried to sit up immediately, but Lydia pressed a calming hand to her shoulder. “Take it easy, little girl. My name is Lydia. What’s yours?”

“Nira,” she said without hesitation. “Where is Ren?”

Lydia’s fingers tensed slightly. “Who is Ren?”

Nira blinked, then tried to recall. “He wears black all over, has dark hair, really bored eyes, and kinda handsome.”

Lydia’s frown deepened. That description. It matched the spirit she’d just obliterated, down to the hair, the eyes, even the sullen expression. For the first time in a long while, a chill crept up her spine. Something about all of this didn’t sit right.

She leaned forward, and asked in a scolding tone. “And who is this Ren person to you, little girl?”

"I have a name, it's Nira!" Nira hesitated. “Uuuhmmm… I don’t know… My guardian angel?”

Lydia grimaced. “He’s not your guardian angel, sweetheart.”

“No!” Nira screamed, the word sharp and full of raw hurt. Her small hands clenched the blanket as her face twisted in grief. “I… I don’t want to be alone… W-why would he leave me? I… I am alone again…”

Lydia reached out instinctively, arms opening to offer the girl comfort. “No, sweetie, you’re not alone. I’m here—”

But Nira flinched away and slapped her arms down, curling in on herself. “No! I don’t want you! I want my Ren back! He’s important to me… He’s… He’s…”

Lydia pulled her hand back slowly, her expression tightening. “Why is he important to you?”

Nira’s lips trembled. “B-Because Mom gave him to me… Because… ugh…”

She fell forward, burying her face in the bedding. The motion was sudden and violent. Lydia’s heart skipped. She immediately placed her palm on the girl’s back, checking her temperature, feeling for a fever, but there was nothing. Her body was warm, and her breathing was fast but steady. There were no signs of a physical affliction.

Lydia’s brows furrowed. “Healing Light.”

A gentle white glow spread from her hand, casting a soft halo over the girl’s small frame. The holy magic soaked into her skin like sunlight on snow. And yet… nothing happened. The girl didn’t relax. She whimpered.

“It hurts so much…” Nira groaned, her body curling tighter.

The healing wasn’t working. Lydia stopped the spell, brow tight with concern. “What hurts? Where does it hurt?”

Nira clutched her head, breathing fast through her nose. Lydia watched closely, then understood it was no physical wound. The girl was suffering from a splitting headache. Something inside her was fracturing. No holy spell could ease that.

Quickly, Lydia crossed the room and opened a small wooden chest beside the shelves. Her fingers brushed past sealed vials and bundled herbs until she found what she needed, a calming tonic, something to ease the nerves and silence the mind’s screaming.

She returned to the bedside and applied a drop of the cool liquid to the girl’s temples, gently massaging it in circular motions. After a moment, Nira’s muscles began to relax. Her sobs slowed. She lay still, sniffling and hollow-eyed.

“I remembered him,” she whispered hoarsely. “He was there for me when I felt alone… and sad. I remembered Mom did something… and now we’re bound together. I… I don’t remember…”

Lydia sat down beside her again, voice soft but steady. “What is it you don’t remember?”

Nira’s brow furrowed as if she were trying to reach across a dark chasm in her mind. “Something bad happened,” she said. “But I don’t remember what. I just know that Ren is important to me… He saved me.”

The pieces were falling into place, and none of them were pretty. Lydia had studied trauma before, including physical, magical, and spiritual. This bore the markings of something severe. Something so devastating that the mind chose to forget rather than face it. A memory sealed not by magic, but by sheer emotional necessity. Whatever horror Nira had endured, it had pushed an evil spirit to deliver her to a church.

“I want Ren back,” Nira said suddenly, voice quiet but firm, as though willing the world to bend.

Then, without a whisper or shimmer of magic, without the usual fanfare of summoning, he appeared.

There he was, sitting casually on the bed, hair tousled, black clothes rumpled, and expression as unimpressed as ever. He blinked at the room, then at his hands, flexing his fingers like someone waking from a nap.

“Huh?” he muttered. “I thought I died…”

“Ren!” Nira cried, throwing her arms around his ghostly middle. “I still can’t touch you!”

Lydia stared at the two of them, her jaw frozen in place.

She didn’t scream. She didn’t invoke a second Holy Lance. She just sat there, watching this literal undead enigma who was casually resurrected right in front of her.

“…What,” Lydia whispered to herself, “is even happening here?”

Ren glanced at her, catching her wide-eyed look, and offered a weak, sheepish smile. He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something reassuring, then immediately seemed to think better of it.

Instead, he raised his hand slightly, as if surrendering.

“Uuuh… second time’s the charm?” he asked, voice dry, as if offering himself up for another exorcism.

Lydia blinked slowly, unsure what to do and realizing how much she had underestimated the strangeness of the situation.