Eldritch Guidance-Chapter 102 – Hex Fragment

Crowley rushed up the stairs of his home, his heart pounding with urgency. Reaching his study, he flung open the door and stepped inside, his eyes scanning the cluttered room. The shelves brimmed with books, jars of herbs, and ancient tomes, while his desk was strewn with papers and magical tools. For a brief moment, he hesitated, trying to recall where he had last seen the item he needed.

After a few tense seconds, it came to him. He turned sharply toward a storage cabinet near the door, striding across the room with purpose. Pulling open the cabinet doors, Crowley revealed an assortment of tools and relics, most of them remnants of his days as a young apprentice priest learning the intricacies of healing magic decades ago. Each item held a memory, but he had no time for nostalgia.

Rummaging through the shelves, he finally found it: a tiny quartz crystal only a few inches in size. The stone was impeccably cut, its surface smooth and flawless, and its transparent structure seemed to shimmer faintly in the dim light of the study. Quartz crystals like this one were used in modern magical practices for their versatility, particularly in amplifying and refining aetheric energy. Crowley’s mind raced with the possibilities, but his intent was clear—he would use it to help Larrs.

Crystal in hand, Crowley turned and made his way back downstairs, his steps measured but brisk. Entering the living room, his gaze fell on Larrs, who was still seated in the chair where Crowley had left him. The man’s face was buried in his hands, his shoulders hunched in a posture of despair that made Crowley’s heartache.

Crowley: "Larrs," Crowley said gently as he approached, holding the crystal aloft. "I may have a way to help. But, It might be dangerous. I’ll need you to trust me."

Larrs lifted his head slightly, his bloodshot eyes heavy with exhaustion. Despite the weariness etched into his face, there was a faint glimmer of hope in his gaze—a fragile thread he was willing to place in Crowley’s hands. He gave a slow nod, his voice barely above a whisper.

Larrs: "I trust you."

Crowley offered a reassuring smile and moved behind Larrs, settling into the same position as before when he had applied the healing magic. Placing his hand gently on Larrs’ back, he now held the smooth quartz crystal in his palm, pressing it firmly yet carefully against Larrs’ body. Closing his eyes, Crowley allowed the familiar golden energy of his healing magic to flow from his hand. This time, however, the energy funneled through the crystal before entering Larrs’ body, the quartz amplifying and refining the flow of aether with precision.

As the golden energy spread, Crowley extended his senses throughout Larrs’ body, delicately probing the vital organs and the pathways of aether within him. The ominous black dot of foreign energy remained where it had been—stationary above Larrs’ heart. A small wave of relief washed over Crowley; it hadn’t moved or spread. He gathered his aether, focusing it around the malignant presence, carefully enveloping it.

With the utmost precision, Crowley began to pull his aether back toward himself, guiding the foreign energy with it. The process was painstakingly slow, requiring him to maintain a delicate balance between force and caution. The malignant aether resisted slightly, clinging stubbornly to Larrs, but it began to yield under Crowley’s control.

As the foreign energy started to move, Crowley exhaled softly, the tension easing from his shoulders. He still wasn’t entirely sure of the nature of this malignant aether or whether his extraction method was entirely safe. But, as it continued to flow with no apparent harm to Larrs, his confidence grew.

Gradually, the golden stream of Crowley’s aether pulled the black energy free from Larrs and directed it into the quartz crystal. The foreign energy swirled within the crystal like a shadow caught in a glass jar, dark and foreboding. Once the transfer was complete, Crowley ceased channeling his aether, carefully removing his hand and the crystal from Larrs’ back.

Crowley examined the quartz crystal in his hand, its once-pristine clarity now marred by a tiny black speck suspended at its center, no larger than the tip of a pen. The sight of it filled him with unease. Whatever this malignancy was, it wasn’t natural. Its dark aura felt faintly oppressive even within the containment of the crystal, as though it was still trying to exert its influence.

He took a steadying breath and shifted his gaze to Larrs. The man’s entire demeanor had transformed. His shoulders, once rigid with tension, had slumped in visible relief, and his face carried an expression of profound gratitude and liberation.

Larrs: “That… feeling,” Larrs said, his voice quivering with emotion. “It’s gone. Finally gone. Thank the Light! Thank you so much, Father Crowley!”

Crowley offered a small, reassuring smile, but his mind raced with thoughts. “Whatever this anomaly is,” he mused, “it seems to have been directly tied to the sensations Larrs described. Aetheric contamination of this nature is unlike anything I’ve encountered before. It's not like the curses I've dispelled in the past, yet it still somewhat behaves like one.”

Crowley: “Larrs,” he began gently, “I need to be honest with you. I found something foreign inside your body, and I’ve removed it. It’s contained now, but I’ll need some time to study it and understand what we’re dealing with. I’ll need you to stay here while I do that. Is that alright with you?”

Larrs: “That’s fine, Father… I think I’ll just take a little nap while you do that. I’m… so tired,” he said, his eyelids already growing heavy.

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Crowley rested a comforting hand on Larrs’ shoulder.

Crowley: “Of course. Rest is exactly what you need right now. You can sleep on my couch if you want while I look at this,” he said while holding up the quartz with the strange energy in it. ”I don’t know how long this will take me.”

As Larrs settled deeper into the chair, his breathing began to slow, the exhaustion of days without sleep finally claiming him. Crowley stepped back, clutching the crystal as his mind churned with questions. Whatever he had removed wasn’t just strange—it felt deeply unnatural. If this anomaly was affecting others in the city, the implications could be far-reaching. Crowley resolved to consult his old books.

The former Hand of Light returned to his study, the quartz crystal still clutched tightly in his hand. His shelves were lined with books from his days as a healing mage in training at the church, each tome a repository of knowledge on aetheric anomalies, magical maladies, and esoteric phenomena. He scanned the titles with a practiced eye, pulling out several volumes that he thought might help identify the black speck now trapped within the quartz.

Settling into the chair at his desk, he opened the first book, flipping quickly through its pages, scanning for anything that might resemble the strange aetheric fragment. Every so often, he would pause, holding the crystal up to the light as though closer examination might reveal some hidden truth. The dark speck seemed inert, yet its very presence felt unnerving—a quiet malevolence suspended in the clear quartz.

Three books came and went, their pages offering no answers, only deepening Crowley’s unease. He picked up a fourth—a leather-bound volume titled Encounters with the Unknown: A Witch Hunter’s Chronicle by Betty Vo, a famed witch hunter. He vaguely recalled reading this book a long time ago, though it was more as a reference for identifying unusual anomalies witch hunters might come across.

Flipping through the pages, Crowley skimmed the contents until a particular section caught his attention. The heading read Residual Hex Fragments: Markers of Cursed Aether. His eyes narrowed as he read, and his concern deepened with every line. The description matched unsettlingly well: small black aetheric fragments, nearly imperceptible to the untrained healer, capable of embedding themselves within a host.

What the book was describing seemed to match a lot of what Crowley observed. He then went on to read what purpose these hex fragments were. Crowley's eyes started to widen in concern as he read what was written in the book before him.

Crowley: “Oh, no. This… is extremely bad.”

Larrs: “AHHHH!!” he screamed.

Hearing Larrs's anguished screams echo from downstairs, Crowley felt his heart lurch into his throat. Without a moment's hesitation, he snapped the book shut, the sharp clap of its pages echoing in the stillness of his study. He bolted from his desk, legs propelling him toward the stairs. His footsteps thundered against the wooden floor as he descended two steps at a time, panic clawing at the edges of his mind.

He burst into the living room, his breath catching as he froze in place. The sight before him was unlike anything he had ever witnessed, and a jolt of primal terror shot through him.

In the middle of the room loomed a grotesque, pulsating red blob, its surface shimmering wetly under the dim light. The creature writhed and quivered, its gelatinous form constantly shifting, as though it were alive and insatiably hungry. Larrs was sprawled on the floor, desperately clawing at the carpet as the blob engulfed his leg, its viscous mass wrapping around him like a living snare. Tendrils of the creature’s body stretched and coiled, slowly pulling Larrs closer toward its pulsating core.

Larrs: “Help me!” Larrs screamed, his voice raw and filled with sheer desperation. His hands scrabbled at the floor, leaving deep scratches as he struggled in vain to free himself.

Crowley’s mind raced as he took in the horrifying scene. This wasn’t just a magical anomaly or a possession—it was something far worse, something tangible and predatory. The air around the creature felt oppressive, radiating malevolent energy that sent shivers down his spine.

Acting on pure instinct, Crowley rushed forward, his hands grabbing hold of Larrs’s trembling arms. With a grunt, he strained against the creature’s unyielding grip, trying to pull Larrs free from its insidious clutches. For a moment, there was the slightest give—a sign of hope—as the gelatinous blob loosened its hold, but then the creature let out a sickening, gurgling sound and began pulling Larrs back into its writhing mass. It refused to relinquish its prey.

Larrs’s panicked screams cut through the air as the blob’s tendrils tightened around his leg, pulling him deeper into the viscous, glowing mass. His fingers dug desperately into Crowley's arm, but the creature’s force only increased. As the creature's mass swelled, thick, snaking tendrils shot out from its sides like living weapons, snapping toward Crowley with alarming speed.

The former priest’s heart skipped a beat. He had only moments before the creature would lash out, consuming both Larrs and himself. Without hesitation, Crowley raised his right hand, gripping Larrs’s arm tightly with his left. His fingers pulsed with a surge of golden light as his aether flared to life.

Larrs: “Hold onto me, Larrs!” he shouted, his voice resolute despite the chaos.

In that instant, Crowley unleashed a spell called Ugin's Repulsion—a defensive spell designed to harmlessly push attackers away from the caster. A violent shockwave of Vitos-infused aether burst from his outstretched hand, roaring through the room like a force of nature. The wave slammed into the creature’s gelatinous body with a powerful force, sending it skidding backward across the floor, its tendrils flailing wildly. Larrs’s leg was freed from the creature’s tightening grasp as the blob recoiled in pain, screeching in frustration.

Crowley held onto Larrs, anchoring him as the shockwave hit, ensuring that Larrs wouldn’t be pushed back along with the creature. He managed to keep them both steady, the force of the repulsion spell dissipating quickly, leaving the room echoing with the creature’s shrieks.

The blob now lurched backward, its mass shrinking and reforming, clearly enraged by the disruption.

Crowley helped Larrs to his feet, but the man couldn’t stand on his own. His leg bore angry, red burns from the acidic touch of the slime, the flesh raw and blistered where it had been engulfed. Crowley clenched his jaw in determination, quickly hoisting Larrs over his shoulder. The weight of the injured man didn’t slow him too much; adrenaline-fueled his movements as he moved toward the door.

They exited the living room, stumbling into the main hallway, with Crowley doing his best to steady them both. The front door was in sight, but the monstrous slime wasn’t about to let them escape so easily. The creature spilled into the hallway, its gelatinous mass sloshing with unnatural speed, closing the distance faster than any creature of its kind had a right to.

Just as it lunged to slam into them, Crowley raised his free hand, golden aether swirling around his palm. He conjured a barrier of pure Vito's energy, the translucent wall stretching across the entire width of the hallway, blocking the creature’s path. The slime collided with the barrier, its form writhing and bubbling as it screeched in agony. The Vitos energy seemed to harm the creature, causing its mass to recoil and ripple violently. But Crowley knew the barrier’s power had its limits.

The acidic nature of the slime began to erode the barrier almost immediately, the edges sizzling and steaming as the creature’s corrosive touch ate away at the magical construct. Crowley gritted his teeth, sweat beading on his brow as he poured more energy into maintaining the wall. He could feel his aether reserves draining rapidly. This wasn’t a battle he could sustain for long. The creature’s relentless assault would outlast his ability to hold the barrier.

Recognizing the futility of the standoff, Crowley made a split-second decision. He dropped the barrier and immediately channeled his aether into the more forceful spell—Ugin’s Repulsion.

Again, a shockwave of vitos energy erupted from his outstretched hand, slamming into the creature with immense force. The hallway filled with the sound of the creature’s screeches as it was sent hurtling backward, its gelatinous form splattering against the far wall. Paintings crashed to the floor, furniture toppled over, and the air filled with the stench of the creature’s acidic presence.

The monster’s mass oozed and reformed, its movements sluggish and disoriented from the blow. Crowley took a moment to catch his breath, his arms burning from the effort of carrying Larrs, but he didn’t dare let his guard down. The creature was already beginning to pull itself back together, its gelatinous form quivering with renewed malice.

The spell had bought them precious seconds—nothing more. Crowley knew it was only a matter of time before the slime came after them again, angrier than before.

Both men staggered out of the house, Crowley kicking the door shut behind them with a resounding slam. The faint sound of the slime creature’s enraged screeches echoed from within, but he didn’t stop to listen. He didn’t dare. Crowley adjusted Larrs’s weight on his shoulder, the injured man groaning softly, too weak to stand on his own.

Crowley: “Help! Somebody, help us!” he shouted, his voice raw with urgency.

His desperate cries echoed through the tranquil streets, shattering the fragile stillness of the city’s waking hours. From across the street, a window creaked open, and Mrs. Wainwright, Crowley’s elderly neighbor, poked her head out. Her lined face, framed by a fraying bonnet, wrinkled further with confusion and concern as she squinted toward the commotion.

Wainwright: “Father Crowley? What’s going on?”

Crowley: “There’s an actual monster inside my home! Please! Call the police! Now!”

Mrs. Wainwright’s scream sliced through the air, sending a wave of panic rippling through the street. Her eyes were wide with terror as she pointed frantically behind Crowley before bolting back into her house.

His heart lurched as he whipped his head around, his gaze falling upon his own front door. The sight made his stomach drop.

The creature—that thing—was slowly pushing itself through the small gap at the bottom of the door. Its viscous, gelatinous form oozed and shifted, reforming as it crept toward freedom. It was horrifying to watch as if the door itself were giving birth to a nightmare.

With a sickening squelch, the creature fully emerged, its mass undulating like a grotesque serpent, and it was already preparing for another attack. Crowley’s pulse quickened. He could feel the creature’s malignant presence in the air, its rancid stench of decay filling his lungs.

Crowley swallowed hard. The odds were grim. Larrs’ injured leg made escape impossible; they couldn’t outrun the creature. Worse still, Crowley lacked any offensive magic to destroy it—his repertoire was limited to defensive spells, crafted to protect and heal, not harm. The logical choice, cold and ruthless, was painfully clear: leave Larrs behind and save himself.

But that was not who Crowley was. That choice went against every tenet he held dear, every vow he had made as a man of faith. His purpose was to protect others, to stand as a shield against darkness. Abandoning Larrs was not an option.

Steeling his resolve, Crowley stood between Larrs and the creature. If it came to it, he would hold the monster back for as long as his strength and aether allowed, praying the authorities arrived before it was too late. He adjusted his stance and prepared to face the monstrosity.

Without warning, the creature lunged.

Crowley’s body reacted instinctively. With his hand raised, he immediately cast Ugin’s Repulsion, sending a shockwave of energy that slammed into the creature, pushing it back. The force of the repulsion sent it skittering backward, but it didn’t stop it. The creature hissed and reformed, its amorphous body already shifting to attack again.

But this time, Crowley knew he had to do more. He couldn’t rely on the same tactics. The creature’s relentless persistence would eventually overwhelm him, and he needed to buy time. The few moments the repulsion had granted him weren’t enough. He had to change the approach.

For most of his life as a priest, Crowley had been deeply connected to vitos, the life-giving element. It had always felt natural to him. But now, he needed something more—something that could do more than just push back. He needed something with a bit more bite.

He reached into his aether reserves and drew from a source he rarely tapped: necros, the element of death, decay, and entropy.

He understood that infusing Ugin’s Repulsion with necros would add a critical edge to the spell. The necrotic energy would not only amplify the damage slightly, but also disrupt the creature’s movements, rendering it sluggish and uncoordinated—an effect inherent to the decaying nature of necros magic. In this desperate moment, such a modification felt like the perfect choice to tip the scales, even if only slightly.

The creature lunged through the air once more, its massive, grotesque form hurtling toward Crowley with terrifying speed. Without a moment’s hesitation, the priest raised his hand, channeling all the energy he could muster into another powerful shockwave.

But this time, the energy that surged from his palm was not the familiar warm, golden glow of vitos. Instead, it was a cold, dark pulse—an eerie purplish-black energy that seemed to distort the air itself as it rippled forward. The very atmosphere around him felt heavier, as though the air had thickened with the weight of necros.

When the shockwave collided with the creature, something unexpected happened. The creature's momentum abruptly halted, suspended midair, as though some invisible force had frozen it in place. The necrotic energy poured through its mass, causing the slime to react unnaturally. Wherever the dark energy touched, the once-translucent, viscous body of the monster turned dull and opaque, its vibrant, gelatinous appearance replaced by a lifeless, ashen gray.

For a brief moment, the creature seemed to become solid—its amorphous form shrinking into a smooth, uniform gray mass suspended in midair. The silence that followed was profound, and for just a heartbeat, the world seemed to hold its breath.

Then, as if all life had been drained from it, the gray mass plummeted to the floor. Upon impact, it shattered into fine, crumbling dust that swirled around like the ashes of something long dead.

Crowley stood frozen, his breath ragged, watching the last remnants of the creature dissipate into near nothingness.

Crowley: “What… happened?”

The priest stood over the pile of fine ash, his brow furrowed in deep contemplation. He stared at the remnants of the creature, the swirling gray dust a stark reminder of what had just transpired. Crowley’s mind raced as he tried to reconcile the impossible: why had Ugin’s Repulsion, a spell crafted solely for defense, harmlessly designed to push attackers away, had managed to disintegrate the slime creature?