The Spiritcaller's Mission (Patreon)

Across the northeastern continent of Ddeaer, there is one holiday that is celebrated from Aergarde to Vinopae, from Delitone to Mossford, from Dragontooth to the Obsidian Forests – the Unlit Candle Feast.

Unlike the Carnival of Colors, which honors old myths, or the feasting during Spirits-Walk, which serve the placate the dead, the Unlit Candle Feast celebrates many things.

It was born from a need to push off the cold of winter, before interior heating and cooling enchantments were found in every home. Before the Grande Fleet of the Kraken Liege  rose to transport fresh fruits and vegetables from the Redsummer Isles to the cold of the north. Before the safety of modern wards and cities and graveyards.

Because even in the dark, humanoids can find kindness for their fellows.

Supposedly.

So that afternoon, as I stood on the small hill overlooking the town of Snowbush, which bordered the Obsidian Forest and Vinopae’s snowier regions, I couldn’t help but wonder why, then, nobody bothered with bringing me into the night of the supposed generosity.

No, I just had to do my job, get paid, and go home.

Just like always.

Snowbush had reported the movements of some sort of spiritual entity that stalked the mountain’s foothills, and had supposedly attacked and killed their livestock.

The mere fact that it was supposedly only attacking livestock meant that, in all likelihood, it wasn’t worth my time.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon!” Mezobrite, my bound eir elemental, said. “Why are you just sitting still like a… Rock?”

I couldn’t help but crack a small smile at that. Mezobrite may not be the smartest of elementals, her intellect falling squarely in the realm of an enthusiastic toddler, but she never failed to put a smile on my face.

I spun through my collection on my watch and nodded.

“You’re right, Mezzy, we should get looking.”

I selected one of my bound spirits, an asomatous that I’d bound down south a few years ago. It had been stalking a woman, born of the lustful desires of a real creep. I’d been happy to throw them in jail, considering everything I’d found in their house.

“What do you want?” the spirit asked.

“Mezobrite and I are tracking down a spiritual entity that’s been attacking livestock,” I informed the spirit. “Track it down, and I’ll give you three hours out of your containment, with the usual restrictions.”

“Two days,” it said.

I reached for my watch and began to twist the dial. I did have other options, but their contracts were more expensive.

“Five hours!” the asomatous said quickly. I kept winding the dial on the watch.

“Fine, fine!” it said. “I’ll do it. Three hours.”

I stopped winding the dial and looked up.

“Contingent upon you actually finding the spirit,” I clarified. “If Mezzy finds it, you get nothing more than the power.”

“Fine, fine,” the spirit said.

“Laesnu,” I said, the command word for unsealing the spirit from the bindings I’d placed upon it.

The asomatous formed a semi-solid shell of mana, and I heard Mezzy laugh.

“Go, go, gogogogogo!!!” she shouted, then dissolved into a loose cloud of tempest mana before shooting out and away over the foothills, sweeping around to look for the spiritual entity.

If there was one thing I regretted about only having abnegation mana, it was that I didn’t also have death mana. It was just too useful for dealing with spirits, especially ghosts and shades.

Like right now. Instead of having to release an asomatous to help search, I could have just cast some of the spirit divining spells.

I’d heard that in some parts of the world, banishers, binders, and other spirit workers were required to have death mana.

That, like most of the planet, was stupid.

Just like this thrice-cursed holiday.

“It has been found. Thirty miles south-south-east,” the asomatous reported to me, nearly two hours later. With how long the nights were at this time of year, that meant I’d have to deal with it in the dark.

Yay.

“Fine,” I said, tossing the spirit a chunk of solidified death and mental mana, which it broke down and absorbed to replenish the power it had burned in the hunt. I let out a long, trilling whistle, and a few moments later, Mezzy rushed over to me.

“Let’s fly,” I told her, and she swept me up in a cloud of her power. Moments later, we soared over the foothills.

“Why are you angry?” Mezzy asked me as we flew.

“I just don’t like this time of year,” I said, not wanting to go into the whole thing.

“You’re not a sun-being,” Mezzy said, sounding confused. “Need more sun? Human-people are many parts.”

“That’s part of it,” I said. “I’m not mad at you, though. I promise that.”

Mezzy smiled and sped up.

As a third gate tempest elemental, bound to the concept of wind, Mezzy was able to fly far faster than anyone else that I knew. She could outrace even the fastest of brooms, and the fastest I’d personally seen her fly was nearly five hundred kilometers an hour.

Of course, that had been without a passenger. Even with her carrying me, though, It only took us minutes to reach the spirit.

I dropped into a clearing in the glen, and immediately groaned.

Of course. It wasn’t a spirit at all.

I couldn’t really blame the people of Snowbush for mistaking it for one. Its energy pattern was not unlike that of a ghost, shade, or other angry spirit.

But no.

I wasn’t dealing with a spirit at all.

I was dealing with a revenant.

I cursed myself for not binding the asomatous better. I should have demanded it give me details.

Oh well, if I was killed for my arrogance, then I’d just die.

“I don’t suppose there’s any chance you’re willing to lay to rest?” I asked them. Him, probably, but I didn’t want to assume.

“Who the hell are you?” the revenant demanded.

“Andreas Achen,” I said, “Summoner. Binder. Banisher. Spiritworker. Whatever name for what I do you want to use works. I’m not picky, as long as I get paid. Now back to my question… Do you mind lying down to die?”

“No!” the revenant shouted. “I’m going to bleed that town dry. Slowly kill off their chickens and cows, then break through their storage and burn their wheat. Destroy their cans.”

“And when they import from southern Vinopae?” I asked.

“How can they, if I waylay everyone who can send a message?” they asked. “I clearly made a mistake in not stopping them before they hired you…”

“Sure,” I said. “Why?”

One thing I’d learned about the dead – they loved to ramble. Without a soul, they were more aimless than a person. Revenants, in particular, were big on talking about what had caused their spirit to fuse to their body long enough to reanimate them.

“Because of how they treated me!” the dead person said. “So what, I cheated on my wife during an Unlit Candle Feast? Is that really worth shunning me for the next twenty years?”

“Wow,” I said. “You really are just a petty person.”

And then I threw a fireball into his face.

Of course, I wasn’t really the one casting the fireball. I couldn’t. I had abnegation mana, and a fireball needed solar, desolation, or some weird trick.

My trick was the solar elemental with a flame attunement that I’d bound. It was a mindless spirit, unlike Mezobrite, and was more or less happy to allow me to use its power, as long as I treated it well and fed it.

Like a hunting dog. Only with fireballs.

The revenant screamed and enforced its body with death mana before leaping at me. I raised my hands and tapped one of the bindings in the solar elemental’s contract. Fire rushed out of my hands in a flamethrower spell.

At the same time, I tapped a contract that I’d made with the shade that had gone on a murder spree a few years ago that I’d bound to my collection, and another with the ghost of a warrior who’d died quite honorably, and who’s ghost had asked to help keep up his life’s work.

An earthen shield forged itself in midair, stopping the claws of the revenant, and the knowledge and skills of the warrior entered me. I stepped back and turned, then released another fireball at the revenant.

It tried to enforce its body again.

Of course it was. That was obvious.

So I hadn’t asked the elemental to put much mana into the fireball. Instead, I used the time to skate back and tap into the power of a much friendlier asomatous – an asomatous of compassion.

The mental spike that hit the revenant was that of pure compassion, trying to inflict a sense of fellowship with its fellow villagers.

To my surprise, it actually worked. The revenant began to fall apart as the spiritual mana and energy keeping it animate released their grudge against the village.

I conjured more mana from my spatial bag and tossed it to each of the contracts I’d called on during the fight, then glanced up at Mezzy.

“Let’s head back and get our pay?” I asked her.

A moment later, she swept me up in a strong wind and we were flying towards Snowbush.

As we approached, the first thing that struck me was the smells. I could smell roasting meat and thick spices, earthy potatoes and salty butter.

Mezzy dropped me in the center of the village, and I scowled, but she just rushed away, laughing.

The center of the village was packed with humanoids, much to my annoyance.

I didn’t like people.

But the food did smell good. And I hadn’t eaten since…

Hmm.

Well, it had been a while.

I groaned and grabbed a plate, then moved to the tables of food.

As the name of the feast suggested, no lights were supposed to be used, and true to form, the village had nothing but the cooking fires, where I could see them roasting the chickens and cow that the revenant had killed.

I piled some food onto my plate then quickly stalked away from the mass throng of people. I found a bench, dusted the snow off, and sat down.

It was dark, but that wasn’t a major deal for me. Not that I could see in the dark or anything like that. I was just used to operating in low light.

As I ate, a young person wandered over.

“Merry feasting!” they said quite happily, and I grunted at them.

They frowned – I thought. It was a little hard to tell with only the moonlight – and sat down on the bench next to me. I shifted a few inches away from them and stuffed some more food into my mouth, hoping that they wouldn’t talk to me.

“Not a fan of this time of year?” they asked.

I studied them the best I could in the low light. They weren’t as young as I’d first thought – probably about thirty or so. Red hair, too red to be pure human, and red eyes that slightly glowed in the dark.

“No.”

“You know, my mother died during an Unlit Candle Feast,” they said.

“Happens,” I said, tartly. I was far too used to death to have pity for that. Everyone lost their mother. That was just life.

“You’re the exorcist they hired, right?” they asked, their tone more neutral.

“Yeah.”

“How’s the work going?”

“Done,” I said.

“Great!” they said, altogether too brightly. “Well, it does seem like I’m bothering you. If you want me to leave, I’ll do so. But I do need a dance partner, and your food is almost done. If you want to dance, we can. Or you can stay here.”

They rose, and I let out a long sigh as I mentally felt my bonded spirits shouting at me.

“Fine,” I said, holding out my hand and standing. “One dance, that’s all.”

It wasn’t just one dance.

It rarely is.