“Arise Jebediah, you are needed at once!” said the woman, entering his residence. Jebediah pulled the sheets off himself and sat up slowly, shaking off the haze of deep sleep. But the faint, persistent ringing of bells and the crashing thunder made slumber a fleeting luxury tonight. He recognized the woman standing over him. Mary from the church.

“What is it Mary?” asked Jebediah, squinting against the glare of her lantern.

“Our young Sara has been possessed this night!” Mary’s voice quavered as she spoke. “We found her feasting on one of our own! I could scarcely believe my eyes. ’Twas a terrible sight. Please, we need your aid!” Jebediah swung his legs off the bed, already reaching for his clothes. This was his calling, his purpose: to banish hellish demons from the realm of the living.

“Where is she now?” he asked, tugging on his boots.

“She was last seen inside the church. We’ve chained the doors and stand guard now.”

“Good. Wait for me at the front. I’ll join you soon,” he said.

Mary nodded and disappeared into the howling night. Jebediah lit his lantern, illuminating the sparse confines of his hovel. He donned his plate mail and trousers and grabbed his flintlock pistol inspecting it once more, ensuring it was in service before holstering it. He took his hammer from the rack. It was a mighty hammer with a spiked edge with ancient and sacral lettering inscribed along its sides. He attached it to his belt before stepping into the storm.

Outside, he went to the small stable. He packed salves, potions, and his holy grimoire into his horse’s satchel to shield them from the rain. Mounting his steed, he lifted his lantern and urged the animal toward the town. The path was treacherous, bogged with mud and battered by relentless wind and rain. 

“By God! ’Tis an accursed night,” he muttered through clenched teeth.

As he neared the town, the chime of bells grew louder. He arrived at the church and was greeted by Mary and about thirty other townsfolk. They were huddled around the entrance waiting for his arrival with lanterns in hand. The warm glow of their lanterns gave him a sense of faux warmth amongst the frigid weather.  

Jebediah was struck by their resolve. Though armed only with a few old, rusted rifles and farming tools, these simple, impoverished folk stood ready to defend their town. They knew little beyond their faith and fields, yet here they were, steadfast. Living on the outskirts in a small communal town, they were far removed from the empire’s reach, its politics, and its armies, but not of hell’s demons. 

Jebediah tightened his grip on his hammer. This is where they sent me to atone… to fade into obscurity. I cannot fail The Order. Not again.

“Our Hellsmiter is here!” said Mary, placing a steady hand on his arm, relief evident in her voice. Jebediah acknowledged her with barely a smile.

“What hath taken place, sister?”

“Brother Desmond can tell you better than I. He was there when she turned.” She gestured for a young man in brown robes to step forward. A wooden pendant of God hung from his neck, trembling with him.

“S-Sister Sara is not—” Desmond stammered, his voice faltering. Jebediah could see the fear in his eyes. He had seen them many times before.

“Take ease cleric” said Jebediah gently. “Speak slow. What hath transpired?” 

“Our sister Sara had just returned yesterday from spreading the Lord’s word beyond the empire’s walls with a few others,” he said wiping the rain from his face. “For months she was gone. When she arrived, I could see she was unwell. I offered her a room in the church to rest. But the spirits…they must have festered for some time because by twilight, she would not speak. As I went to lock up, I heard a most foul sound coming from her quarters. I went inside to check and…” the cleric shook his head as he recollected the tale. 

“She looked like the devil incarnate. Blood soaked the sheets, and the air was ice cold. She pushed me to the ground when I confronted her and escaped from the church shortly after. That is when I alerted everyone.” 

Jebediah frowned. “Has anyone else come into contact with her?”

“No, just me,” Desmond replied. “But others saw her dragging people from their homes into the church.”

Jebediah nodded grimly. “Then we face a possession. I will smite this spawn from Hell. Have you more chains or rope?”

“Yes Hellsmiter we should.” replied Desmond, signalling for others to retrieve the items.

 “Please, do not kill her,” Desmond pleaded, his voice breaking. “I beg of you.” Jebediah met the young cleric’s tearful gaze. Then, with a heavy sigh, he looked away.

“I can only do my duty,” said Jebediah firmly. “Just pray she has not fully succumbed to Hell’s darkness.” Moments later, A few citizens brought back some rope and handed them to him.

“Remove the chains!” Jebediah ordered. “Close the door behind me as I enter. You would do well to stay in your homes. Do not open the door under any circumstances. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Hellsmiter,” the townsfolk replied in unison.

 Two men obeyed, unfastening the heavy chains from the church doors. Jebediah secured his horse, opened the doors, and stepped inside. The church was vast and dim. Moonlight poured through its stained glass dome, casting fragmented colors on the stone floor. The door slammed shut behind him, muffling the storm’s fury. Inside, silence reigned, oppressive and absolute.

He moved slowly between the rows of seats through the nave of the church, with lantern in hand and chains at his side. Putting one foot in front of the other he walked, the faint creak of his boots on the wooden floor echoing in the stillness. 

At the far end of the church, in front of the altar, a dark figure hunched low. He could hear the snapping of bone and low pitched snarls and whines. As he drew closer, he began to make out the details. Several corpses lay scattered across the floor, mutilated beyond recognition. Their small bodies had been dismembered, reduced to a grotesque heap of flesh and bone. Lightning flashed, illuminating the carnage.

Their eyes had been removed from their sockets and spines ripped from their backs. Their chest and abdomen were split open where their heart and intestines were. Organs lay scattered across the dust-covered floor, half-eaten, with bite marks carved into the remaining flesh. Bite marks could be seen embedded in what skin they had left. Their skin was stripped of most muscles. The odor was putrid and smelled of death. He grimaced at the sight, but pressed on.

He had smote countless demons for The Order, yet even he was unprepared for what he saw next.

Atop the altar, a pregnant woman lay on her back. Her clothes had been torn away, her legs splayed wide. Her abdomen had been grotesquely split open, exposing the unborn child within. The demon crouched over her, gnawing on the fetus with feral and savage hunger. Its jagged teeth sank into the spongy, gelatinous flesh, crushing brittle bones with ease. Blood oozed from every orifice of the woman, soaking the altar’s decorative hanging in streaks of dark crimson.

As she feasted upon the vernix-covered fetus, Jebediah could hear a faint wheezing sound coming from the woman. She was still alive. Her chest heaved with shallow breaths, and her tear-filled eyes met Jebediah’s. She tried to speak, to cry for help, but no sound came.

“Halt! You will stop at once, demon!” Jebediah’s voice thundered through the hall. 

He was just several meters behind the altar. The creature turned toward him, its black, soulless eyes glinting in the moonlight. Blood dripped from its mouth onto the blue church robes it was wearing. Blonde hair, matted and streaked with crimson, hung in disarray around its misshapen face. 

A possession of the highest order, Jebediah realized. She has not yet fully turned. I must act quickly if I am to save her.

As he closed the distance between the demon, its snarls and shrills became louder and louder. The demon twitched and contorted unpredictably. Now was the time to act and he knew it. The demon pounced towards Jebediah. Its claw raking against his chest plate. He sidestepped its strike, but the demon was quick and scurried along the walls, vanishing in the shadows. 

“Deus, da fortitudinem et lumen. God, grant me your strength and light,” Jebediah prayed, his voice steady.

A golden light flared beneath his feet, surging through his body. He felt a familiar sense of power as divinity coursed through his veins. Its warmth, its vigour, its purity. God’s blessed gift. Radiant yellow light poured from his eyes as divine sight took hold, revealing the taint of the unholy with piercing clarity. The demon lay inverted on all fours hanging from the ceiling. 

It let out a deafening shriek, the sound cutting through him like a blade. He staggered but quickly regained his focus. The demon pounced again, slamming into him with unnatural force. They crashed to the ground, its claws raking at his plate mail like a voracious dog. Its rancid breath, a vile mix of decay and blood, filled his nostrils as it snarled.

Jebediah shoved the demon back and rolled on top of it, pinning its arms down with all his might. It thrashed beneath him, writhing like a rabid beast, its slender, feminine arms straining against his grip. Then came another ear-splitting shriek; sharper, more deafening than before. His focus wavered for a split second.

That was all it needed.

With unnatural strength, the demon wrenched free and lashed out. Its clawed hand struck him like a battering ram, hurling him backward. He crashed into the wooden pews, splinters flying as the impact knocked the breath from his lungs. Groaning, he shook off the debris and staggered to his feet, hammer in hand. The sacred weapon pulsed with divine radiance, its glow cutting through the dim church like a beacon.

The demon lunged again, shrieking, its black eyes burning with malevolence. Jebediah raised his hammer, ready to strike but in that fleeting moment, he hesitated. The hammer hung in the air. One swing, and the girl’s life might end with the demon’s.

That hesitation cost him.

The demon slammed into him at full force, sending him skidding across the floor. The cold wood scraped against his armor as he slid back, his grip tightening around the handle of his hammer. He couldn’t afford another mistake.

“Sara, I know you are there. I do not want to hurt you.” he reasoned. He stood up from the debris. The demon was on all fours pacing in front of him. “You must resist the embrace of Hell’s demon so I may free you from its clutches. Time is fleeting.” He spat out blood on the ground beside him.

I must exorcise this demon, lest I have to kill her…

Jebediah grabbed the chains from the floor and advanced towards the demon. Once more, the demon swiped at him. This time he ducked its strike. The Hellsmiter countered with a well placed blow to its chest, staggering it. Swiftly, he grabbed the demon by the neck and raised it off the ground into the air.

“Per hanc lucem sanctam cadēs! By this holy light you shall fall!” yelled the Hellsmiter. A bright light emitted from his hand and flowed into the demon’s body. Its skin pulsated with yellow luminescence. The demon groaned in agony. The light sent it into a frenzy. It tried to escape Jebediah’s grip but the demon was severely weakened. Its groans echoed through the church’s great hall. He quickly seized the opportunity and chained its arms and legs together. The demon writhed aggressively in the chains that bound it. 

“I will purge your body of this corruption. You will be a slave no longer!” Jebediah exclaimed.

He dragged the demon by its feet towards the entrance of the church. The demon squirmed violently on the ground rattling the chains around it. Jebediah opened the door and was met by a gust of wind and rain, flinging the church doors back with force.

Jebediah dragged the snarling demon through the sodden earth, each step sinking deep as his boots sucked against the muck on the way to the town square.Jebediah fixed his gaze on the cross-shaped stake above the gallows. As he dragged the creature, its shrills and whimpering echoed through the narrow streets, drawing the townsfolk from their hiding places. One by one, they emerged; silent and curious. Soon the whole town gathered around him, despite the fierce storm. Lanternlight flickered against tight jaws and wide eyes, doing little to chase away the fear. Thunder cracked overhead like a warning. He caught sight of Sister Mary, her voice sharp as she urged them home, but no one moved. No one listened.

“Do you need any assistance, Hellsmiter?” asked one of the townsmen, running up to him, wiping water from his brow.

“No, I do not. Stand well back. This is no ordinary demon. I do not want it to harm you.”

Jebediah shoved the demon to its knees and tied its arms and legs to the cross-shaped stake. Jebediah beckoned one of the townsfolk to fetch his horse. From the satchel, he retrieved the grimoire, a heavy, leather-bound tome, its pages worn and brittle with age. Stamped into its cover was the seal of The Order, half-faded but unmistakable. He ran his thumb across the emblem, a silent acknowledgment of the burden he bore. Then, without a word, he ascended the platform and stepped before the writhing creature, ready to begin the rite.

He opened the grimoire, its inked parchment crackling as he turned the fragile pages. He passed diagrams of demon anatomy, sacred alchemical rites, and long-forgotten liturgies until at last, he landed on the exorcisms.

As he looked up from the scripture to begin the rite, his breath caught.

No longer the snarling beast he had dragged through the mud, she now sat bound to the stake, Sara, the girl he had come to save. Her robes were miraculously untouched by the storm, golden hair swaying gently in the rain. For a moment, Jebediah’s heart fluttered. Her face, young, unmarked, almost innocent shone in the moonlight. Rosy lips, smooth skin untouched by corruption. For a heartbeat, she looked only like a frightened girl.

“Please, Hellsmiter,” she whispered, her voice soft, unmarred by malice. “Release me. The spirit has gone.”  His eyes narrowed. He knew better. He reached into his coat and drew his holy emblem, holding it before her.

He blinked.

In that instant, the illusion shattered. Sara’s form twisted back into the feral abomination, its lips curled in fury, fangs bared and snarling.

“Per omnia sancta et sacra, spiritum tuum iubeo hanc carnem relinquere. Dies cruciatus et miseriae tuae transierunt. By all that is holy and sacred, I command your spirit to leave this vessel. Your days of torment and misery are over,” he declared, his voice booming with conviction.

A beam of golden radiance burst from the heavens, bathing the demon in searing light. It writhed, shrieking in agony, as if consumed by flame. Around him, the townsfolk stood frozen in awe, their faces trembling in the reflected glow of divine wrath.

“Angelis testibus, viae tuae maleficae iam prohibentur. Ex hoc regno nunc damnaris! As the angels are my witness, your wicked ways are now forbidden. You are banished from this realm!” His voice rose with each word, thunderous and unyielding. The light intensified. The wind howled and spiraled around him with sacred fury. The demon thrashed violently but could not break free.

“Apage, daemon! Te percutio! Begone, Demon! I smi—”

A sudden crack split the night. A bolt of lightning struck the earth mere feet from the Hellsmiter, igniting the ground in a burst of flame. The force of the blast hurled him backward. The hairs on his skin stood rigid with static. He hit the earth hard.

The beam of holy light faltered and flickered as Jebediah staggered to his feet once more. Around him, the townsfolk recoiled in fear, retreating farther from the platform.

“You should have killed me when you had the chance,” the demon rasped.

Disoriented, Jebediah rose to his knees, trying to steady his breath. He met the creature’s gaze, but before he could act, an unseen force struck him like a hammer to the chest.

The divine warmth within him vanished in an instant, replaced by a creeping, unnatural chill. His limbs seized, twisting unnaturally. Darkness lapped at the edges of his vision. His body convulsed, contorted no longer his own.

The demon had entered him.

He was still inside, still aware, but powerless, reduced to a passenger trapped in his own flesh. His hands trembled as he slowly turned to face the townsfolk. His eyes, once alight with holy fire, were now pits of pure black. His skin had paled, blotched and mottled with corruption. There was no mistaking it. Evil radiated from him and everyone saw.

“Our Hellsmiter has turned! He is possessed! We must flee!” someone cried. Panic tore through the crowd.

Jebediah’s hand moved to his flintlock not by his will. The demon inside him cocked the hammer and pulled the trigger. Gunfire cracked through the chaos, the air thick with the bitter tang of gunpowder. Jebediah watched helplessly as the bullet exploded into the back of a man’s head killing him instantly. He collapsed, face first into the mud, lifeless.

One of the younger men dared to fight back. Desperation in his eyes, he raised a rusted sword above his head and charged. Jebediah sidestepped with ease, catching the boy’s momentum and shoving him to the ground. Jebediah approached and wrenched the weapon from the boy’s trembling hands.

The boy raised his arms in a futile gesture of mercy. “Please—”, but it made no difference. Jebediah plunged the blade through the boy’s chest, sinking deep. Bone cracked. Flesh gave way. The wet squelch of pierced heart and lung echoed faintly beneath the storm. The demon inside reveled in the sound.

Nearby, a woman screamed. One of the women who witnessed the act, took off running as fast as she could. Her legs tangled beneath her as she ran, and she slipped in the thick mud that inundated the town square. Jebediah advanced with measured steps, no haste, no hesitation and grabbed her by her hair.

“Halt! Please no! I beg of you.” pleaded the woman. She clasped her hands together begging for her life. “I have a family and children!  Please…I do not want to die! Have merc-”. 

The hammer struck mid-sentence.

With a single, brutal swing, he shattered her jaw with exceptional force, separating her lower mandible from her skull. It hung loosely by a strip of flesh along her. Several of her teeth fell into the mud. He threw her head back against the ground. Blood seeped from her mouth flowing freely like a river. She groaned, barely conscious, pain rattling through what remained of her face.

Jebediah spotted an older man fleeing through the chaos. He raised his flintlock, cocked it, and fired. The man dropped like a sack of grain. Jebediah stepped over the writhing body and loomed above him. The man began to murmur prayers, trembling.

Without a word, Jebediah brought his hammer down—once, twice, three times—shattering both knees and elbows at the joint, the sound of tearing tendon and cracking bone echoing off the stone. The man cried in agony with every strike. His limbs twisted into angles they were never meant to take. 

“I’ll leave you to suffer,” Jebediah said coldly.

Free me… now! Jebediah screamed within, forcing his will to rise. Release me, damn you! He fought against the possession with every shred of his soul, but the demon’s grip was relentless. Its power, amplified by the sanctified vessel it had overtaken, was nearly unbreakable. His body remained a weapon of horror.

Around him, the square descended into Hell.

Lightning danced across the skies, casting flickering shadows on blood-slick stone. Flames spread from building to building, climbing rooftops like hungry beasts. The townsfolk had tried to flee, but none escaped.

However, the demon was extremely fast and powerful, even more so in the Hellsmiter’s body. Jebediah, trapped inside, was forced to bear witness to the slaughter.

For what seemed like an eternity, he saw many heads of men, women and children crushed beneath his boots. He watched as he dismembered the limbs of men and left them to suffer crippled and in pain. He watched as he threw people into fire watching skin bubble and peel as they burned alive. He saw everything and could do nothing. Eventually, silence claimed the square. The fires raged, but no one screamed. No one ran. No one remained.

I have failed again.
By God… why?
These were good people…

He clenched his teeth. The silence burned louder than the screams that had come before it.

The weight of his guilt bore down like armor soaked in blood. He scolded himself for the hesitation, for not striking when he had the chance. He should have ended the demon the moment he had the upper hand.

Now all was ash.

He looked around the square. The bodies of the townspeople lay scattered, broken, and silent. The air was thick with the stench of rain, smoldering wood, and burnt flesh. Carrion smoke drifted above the flames, rising like dark incense from the buildings now consumed by fire. An aroma that seemed to excite the demon inside him. 

The rain had stopped, yet the fires still burned. Plumes of smoke wafted above the flames and had spread rapidly from building to building. The demon let out a devilish cry of victory. 

As he wandered through the ruins, something caught his eye. The stake. He had forgotten.

Sara.

She remained where he had left her bound, torpid and defeated. Her head hung low, her spirit long since extinguished. She hadn’t escaped, hadn’t begged. She simply waited. 

He approached slowly, savoring the moment. The demon guided his hand as he leaned in and dragged his tongue across her neck, defiling the last vestige of hope. He raised his hammer and then silence.

There was no scream.

The first blow shattered her skull and cracked her like an egg under the weight of his hammer. He raised the hammer again and brought it down with greater force. Her spine snapped beneath it, and her head fell, rolling into the mud with a dull thud.

No…

The demon dropped to his hands and knees and feasted.

It tore away her robes and dug in. It began at her breasts, then clawed open her abdomen, devouring her from within. Every intestine, every shred of muscle was consumed. Jebediah, still conscious within the prison of his flesh, could taste it. He gagged. Vomited. But the demon returned to the feast again and again. 

Only the fire crackling and the wet, rhythmic sound of flesh being chewed echoed in the town square. The sky pulsed orange above them. There was no one left to stop it. No one to mourn. Soon, the entire town would burn.

Crack!  A shot rang out. A warm, sudden bloom spread through his lower back. He’d been shot. His body seized.

Crack! Another shot. This one pierced his armor. Jebediah screamed as he collapsed onto his side, the sharp pain blinding. His spine had shattered. His limbs went cold.

From the smoke, a figure emerged. He walked over to his body, carefully…cautiously. He spit on the possessed Hellsmiter’s body, cursing his name at what he’d done.A lone man, cautious and deliberate, walked toward the fallen Hellsmiter. He spat at Jebediah’s twisted form.

“You deserved worse,” the man growled. “This is for my family. For the town.” He raised a dagger and drove it into Jebediah’s neck. The demon howled, its shriek unnatural. But as the man tried to pull the blade free, the demon surged outward, leaving Jebediah’s body and flooding into the attacker. The man convulsed, screaming. His limbs bent at unnatural angles. He fought, just as Jebediah had, but the demon’s will was overwhelming.

Jebediah lay paralyzed and powerless, watching it all unfold. He watched as the man’s form twist and contort in unorthodox positions just as he had. The icy grip of the demon in Jebediah was gone, replaced by pain, overwhelming and multiplied ten times over. His breathing slowed with each breath. 

Next to the gallows he caught a glimpse of the grimoire lying nearby in the mud beside the gallows, its pages soaked through. He willed his body to move. It would not. He lay on his side, watching the city go up in flame. Around him, the faces of the innocent stared back; men and women he had slain. Once lit with joy, now empty, marred, and caked in dried blood.

The sound of footsteps filled Jebediah’s ears as the demon began to move towards him. His vision began to blur. The new host, still writhing in its own skin, stepped toward him. The demon circled like a vulture, watching the broken body of the man who had once hunted it.

Defeated, Jebediah turned his gaze to the heavens. The sky was choked with smoke, but a break in the clouds revealed a soft yellow light, brief and distant.

‘Tis…the heavens, he thought. For a moment he felt solace, but then the clouds closed and the light quickly disappeared. His eyes swelled up with tears. 

The demon knelt beside him, inspecting his hand. It noticed the ring, a gold band, thick and worn. At its crown, a raised seal: the sigil of The Order, weathered by time and streaked with dried blood. The edges were nicked, the engraving faded, but the symbol still burned with a quiet authority. Dei milites. Protegere et servire omnia divina.  God’s warriors. To protect and serve all that is divine, the demon sneered.

The demon seized his hand and wrenched his ring finger back, snapping the bone clean in half, bending it a full hundred and eighty degrees until it split through skin with a sickening rip. Jebediah clenched his teeth, choking on the pain. The demon held the ring up to the firelight, studying it in silence. Then, with utter contempt, it flung the relic into the flames and turned away, leaving him to his demise.

At last, Jebediah’s eyes closed. And for the first time in a long, bitter life, he felt… relief.