9: The Inquisition
Phantasia descended into the lower levels of the building, taking care not to get spotted by any Hawks who still wandered the gritty corridors, and phased through walls at opportune moments. At one point she found herself in a pitch-black room filled with the scraps of old paintings, their frames torn away leaving the canvases scattered around to gather dust. She found other rooms that housed the remains of sculptures, their bodies picked apart for vital commodities like wood and metal, leaving stone and wire exposed like skeletons.
Phantasia’s search proved fruitless and she was about to give up when she found herself in a chamber below the depths of the basement. A cursory examination suggested it wasn’t even connected to the rest of the gallery, but was instead part of some man-made subterranean catacombs. What caught her attention, though, was what she found on the uneven stone ground underneath her feet. Etched in red dye, with the markings of the fire element, were the remains of a magick circle. Unlike the one beneath the World’s End, this circle was devoid of power.
At the very least, it appeared that the immediate danger was gone. The question now was whether it was by design or defeat. Had the demon been fully exorcised, or had its creators done something with its amassed power? If only she’d studied such things harder when she’d had the chance, she might have been able to tell! Looking at the passageway to the underground, she wondered if she could follow it for more clues, but then the memory of her helplessness before that lone demon returned.
It’s too dangerous. Until I can fight those things, I can’t risk it, she thought. At least she had a vague idea of what was going on, though. The idea of a group of shaman creating and controlling wraiths to harvest dark energy – from the town’s teenagers none-the-less – made her shiver. How could anyone do such a thing?! But then again, even faeries were not immune to the allure of power, as she had seen in Cecaelia and Ophion. Corrupted mana, she’d been taught, was just so much easier to manipulate and control, and that was why demons relished it.
Phantasia left the chamber in a hurry, unsettled not by any negative energy, but by the thoughts of what that power did to people and where such madness would lead.
***
Phantasia found Shelley the next day through instinct. The small girl was sitting on a children’s swing on the southern outskirts of the town, where the land was parched and the few buildings nearby were crumbling ruins. Shelley sat alone, surrounded by twisted metal frames and torn mesh fences, as she looked down at the stained black tarmac below her dangling feet.
“It’s quiet out here,” said Phantasia, forgetting for a moment that Shelley had no idea she was there. She winced as the human girl froze up for a second, before relaxing when she noticed who had come to visit her.
“I like the quiet,” she said, her voice almost a whisper.
