Realm of Vengeful Souls

The rain stopped not too long ago. The roads were soaked and muddy. Despite being midday, the sky was grey, and barely any light came through the clouds. A thick fog still reigned over the surroundings, making the environment humid. It was the type of humidity that chilled to the bone.

The dog came out of his shelter, a hollow tree he found when the precipitations began earlier. Despite finding a hiding spot, his fur was now packed with humidity, the extra weight making it harder for him to move around.

Now was not the time to get sick, he thought. As he looked at the sky, he realized there would not be sun rays coming down anytime soon to help dry him out. He needed to find another shelter, one with a source of heat, and soon.

He still had not found what he was looking for, and by the looks of it would take him quite some time to find it. The land of vengeful souls was a myth. Like all other myths, it was based on a legend, which in turn was based on old stories, which morphed and degraded over time.

However, he did have some mixed results throughout his adventure so far. Although he was far from his goal, the dog managed to free several unfortunate souls on his journey.

He thought back about what happened that day, what brought him on this quest.

***

The thick air was humid, chilling to the bone. The wooden building was barely heated, only done so by the few candles that were lit and the people standing in attendance. The local priest avoided most sources of heat for the building, considering his new church had been rebuilt following the latest raid the village suffered. He still missed his old stone structure.

Standing in the darkness of the heart of the church, behind the makeshift altar, staring down at the scarce attendance, he spoke to his congregation. The villagers, standing on the muddy ground, were all hung to his words. They had suffered much, once again. The last raid cost them dearly, including their beloved champion. It had been a month since he died, and they now only had the time to give him a proper funeral.

"The Goddess, Queen of Heavens, loves you all. No matter who you are, no matter what you did, you will always be welcome at the pearly gates when you start your new journey." The priest lit some candles and incense. "Death is nothing but another step in our long journey." He did a quick prayer, making symbols with his fingers in midair. For most people, this was an all too common sight.

The priest went on, his gaze scanning the crowd, as if he was looking for something, someone. He looked at the urn, sitting right in front of him. "She loves you, too, Alistair, Champion of Concordia. You were her son in life, and you will remain her son, even in death. Cremation was a required step for you to pursue your journey. May your next adventure be a more peaceful one."

As he finished those words, his gaze finally found who he was looking for. A dog was sitting on the stairs leading to the heart of the building, mere yards away from him. He went on, still looking at the dog. "The road to heavens is at times an easy one. At times, it is a more difficult path to achieve. Some unfortunate souls stop their journey in a far-away land, where a realm of vengeful souls exists. These lost souls seek vengeance over past deeds, wrongs they suffered, and will not be allowed to continue to the heavens until their grudge is extinguished. For most of them, it will be impossible to move on without obtaining some assistance."

The crowd murmured, troubled by what they heard. The priest's words were enough to instigate a moment of panic, as he rarely spoke about the realm of the vengeful souls. When one spoke about it, they would draw the attention of the damned souls inhabiting the realm.

The crowd, however, was unaware the priest was speaking directly to one of them. Even if he was to attract those souls' attention, he needed to pass his knowledge before another raid took place. He knew he did not have much time ahead of him.

He walked around his altar and leaned in front of the dog. He gave him some head pats and scratched his chin. He leaned closer, and murmured into the dog's ear, "the Goddess, our Queen, spoke to me overnight. She begged I reach out to you, her son. Despite having your elven form destroyed, your spirit managed to survive and find shelter in your best friend's body. Dogs truly are elves' best friends. She needs your help, Alistair. Souls are being lost on their way to the heavens and barely any of them make it to their destination. Something must have happened along the way to upset the balance of things."

The dog looked at the priest and opted to slightly nod in response. They both knew they had to keep his identity a secret for the time being, as too much was at risk.

Suddenly aware they were now the center of attention, Alistair made a friendly growl and let himself down, tristing and rubbing his back on the ground. Ever since his elven form was destroyed, he learned a few tricks about how to act like a dog. The local canines proved to be helpful.

***

Alistair walked for about 20 minutes and found what seemed to be an abandoned house. He looked around, and the surroundings were serene. He found a way in through a broken door and noticed the place was abandoned. The fireplace still had wooden logs in it. He spoke a word of magic, and a small fire started burning in the fireplace.

As he laid down on the floor in front of the fire, the priest's last words gloomily rang in his mind. It was right after his own funeral, as the village was being attacked by raiders. There was no one left to defend the village, and the priest urged him to escape. "You are the only one who can help your mother, now. She has entrusted you with new fighting and magical abilities, which I hope will ensure your survival. Do not weep for us, as we will meet again. Find the realm of vengeful souls."

About this short story... I wrote this text to serve as the base scenario of a roleplaying game a friend of mine is working on.