The pain in his arm was crawling up into his shoulder, the obstreperous thing that lurked, crawling beneath his flesh, whispering in his ear.

HUnt

DestRoy

DeVouR

He had long since come to terms with the curse his so-called gift brought him, it was his own fault anyways.

His insatiable thirst for knowledge was nothing to sniff at. He had been taught by the best, sat in reverence of the greatest minds to lecture. But he had delved too deeply, and sought answers to questions that should never have been asked.

And Draco had found answers.

He had become a Vigiles Legate to appease his family, but he embraced the task because of the curse. The interregnum in the senate made his task as Vigiles so much more important, as the council determined if a new Dictator was even needed.

But Draco did not concern himself with these things until they impeded his duties.

The Manes raged here, he could see them, clear as day, screaming to be let into the house he stood before, they clawed at the door, beat at the shutters, and wailed… oh how they wailed.

He raised his hand, the Manes backing away in obvious fear of his touch. the tattoos on his hand slithered and writhed as he reached for the~

“Can I help you?”

Draco froze, he had been so focused he had not heard the woman approaching him from behind.

A kindly looking woman dressed in a blue robe that wound about her many times covering her completely. She appeared to be pregnant, her belly heavy, her pace even and calculated as she rest her hand on the railing leading down to the landing where he stood.

He turned, nodding with a smile, feigning ignorance would do him no good, so he spoke in her tongue.

“I am investigating,” he held up the tabard he had draped over his shoulder, using the action to hide his angrily thrashing tattoo.

“Ah, the Legate, please forgive me, I would bow but~”

“No, I insist that you do not. I am not here to flap out like some wastrel, I am here to find treachery.”

“Well, I don’t think you will find it in the root cellar of my mother-in-law.”

“You would be surprised where one finds the reach of the enemies of the senate.”

“I likely would. For I am but a humble woman.”

“I am but a man, born of such a woman as you, so never debase yourself. The greatest of men, are born of humble women.”

“Ha, would that my husband thought the same.”

“Ah, all daughters than.”

“Yes, how did~”

“You carry high, and while it is not a sure thing, the signs that you are also suffering from morning sickness is evident, your breath, I can smell the sweet smell of the leaves your chewing, sweet cravings sometimes present with girls more than boys.”

“My mother-in-law says the same. Threw my husband into a fit.”

“I imagine, he blames you, But he cannot, the male is usually to blame I find. I will wager he is third or fourth of all sisters before himself?”

She giggled, “You are correct again, fifth. But how did you know about the morning sickness?”

“The smell of ginger you are also chewing, for the stomach upset.”

“Oh? I see. You said you wish to see in there?”

“I do.”

“I have the key to open it,” she held up the slat of wood, the distinct pattern on its face.

“Thank you,” he reached for the key, but she instead stepped around Draco and slipped the key into the lock to open the door.

“Please, follow me.” She stepped inside and picked up a lamp she lit with a flint, then disappeared down a hall and around a corner into the cellar.

Draco followed, careful to stay within sight of the lamplight, as well as looking about. The smoky dim light revealed the shelves lining the walls, rows filled with jars, bags of what smelt like beans, the earthy aroma filling the air. A scent that did nothing to cover the earthy tones, and the metallic tang.

“So,” he asked aloud, “How long have you been trying for a son?”

“My husband has…oh. Though, I suppose that is not what you meant?”

An astute woman.

The light from the lamp snuffed out, plunging them into darkness, the creature filling the void in the open chamber writhing and coiling like a pile of snakes as thick as a man, twisting about climbing up the wall.

“What gave me away?” She hissed angrily.

He could feel her hesitation, no doubt from seeing the glow in his own eyes making her uneasy.

“The Manes;” he said calmly, loosening the bindings at his wrist, “The moment you showed up, they fled. Spirits so angry, what do they fear?”

“Gods!”

With a roar she launched herself at him, the miasma of ghostly serpents with their innumerous eyes rushing towards him.

His own squirming mass of miasma spewed forth into the room, blocking her attack and pushing her aside, but knocking him back as well. She was far from weak  her soul being slowly devoured by the old god inside her. He attacked her back, lashing with razor sharp claws that sprouted up from the glowing ghostly tentacles that tore through his flesh to get at her. She screamed in pain and attacked him again, biting fangs spitting acid at him that narrowly missed him.

He jumped to the side, the mass of bodies rushing at him, but even as it dit it slid down the hall towards the exit past him.

“No!” Out in the open, he could not act. She knew this. Once in the open he could try and bring her in, but she would just kill countless innocents to be free. Or he would have to explain the old gods touch in himself. He grabbed her miasma and hauled back on her with all his weight. Thankfully it was so ingrained in her he had little trouble, so as he pulled he felt her step falter and he heard as she fell to the ground. He had to stop her, here and now.