They were right behind him. He could hear them gaining, but he didn't dare look back to see how far away they were. Everything had been going so well! How could it have turned out so wrong?
The rain was heavy as it fell, practically blinding, but he had lived there for decades now, and knew exactly where he was. The temple was close. If he hurried he could just-
He yelped in pain, tearing his sensitive tail out of the grip of a human he hadn't noticed. He twisted around in preparation for a fight, only to stop when he saw his attacker, who's knife glinted in the dim light.
Just a child. A boy with long, dark hair who had trained with Dashi.
He couldn't hurt a kid!
The spirit growled a warning to the boy, then hurried away, mentally cursing the tiny human as it shouted for the adults.
He hadn't done anything! Why wouldn't they believe him?!
At last, he arrived. Panting heavily and dripping wet, he leaned against the doorway, a relaxing blue glow coming from the portal swirling ominously near the back of the temple, and his way out of this pathetic mortal world.
"Stop, demon." The voice was low, commanding, and all too familiar.
"Guan!" He gasped, spinning around to face the intruder. "Why are you here?"
"You know full well why I have come. We allowed you into our town," he stalked around the shivering being, eyes radiating anger, "give you our food, our protection, and you betray us!" He spat, bringing forth an object from the folds of his robes.
His eyes widened in recognition. "That's... but I didn't do it! I would never hurt Dashi!"
"The black markings underneath your eyes say otherwise, Jak."
Jak bared his teeth in a snarl. "I thought you would believe me. I thought you were my friend!"
"And what of Dashi? Did not he believe himself to be your friend before you killed him? You know I don't have a choice."
"Just get it over with." He snapped, screwing his eyes shut in preparation for the pain he knew would come.
Jak screamed as his essence was stripped from the mortal plane, his form banished into the depths of the demon's trap.
He didn't know how long he had been there, whether it had been five minutes or five months, five years or five thousand years, all he knew was everything hurt. There was fire, burning white hot, all around him, all over him, the ultimate torture. The inside of his throat was raw from his constant screaming.
He was only just able to heal what the blaze ate away before it was consumed again, forced to divert every bit of power he had just to fix himself.
And he was so tired, but he couldn't sleep, not now, sleep would be giving up, and giving up would be death. And he couldn't die, not yet, he had to get out.
He had to.
The roar and burn of the fire was suddenly gone, replaced with a cold that bit into his skin like knives, but it wasn't the fire and he would have cried with relief if he wasn't so tired...
He tensed. There was something behind him. Another spirit? No... it was a human.
...
Chase Young sat on the ground in lotus position, meditating with his lengthy black hair pulled back into a pontail, just barely long enough for the strands to pool on the marble behind him.
He was incredibly irritated. His day had started off at nearly two in the morning, and it showed in the dark circles under his eyes. Some idiot had started pounding on his door in the middle of the night, claiming her book was cursed or some such nonsense. She'd shoved it into his hands and run off without another word. Crazy old witch.
This same book sat in front of him now, four... no, five hours later. Chase had been unable to return to his sleep for some reason, and was finding it hard to even sit still. He felt strangely agitated, although he couldn't say why. It could have something to do with this book...
No, that was absolutely ridiculous. Books could not be possessed. He was allowing the paranoia to get the best of him. He refused to fall prey to the idiotic superstitions of an old woman.
A small 'thunk' cause him to crack open an eye, but he saw nothing out of place. Although... the book sat to his left when he could've sworn he'd placed it directly in front of him...
He mentally berated himself. Was he truly about to let the ramblings of some stranger who was obviously out of her mind get to him?
With a scowl, he picked up the object in question. It was nothing out of the ordinary; just a small black book with a simple silver clasp, which could only be opened by a key. Oddly enough, it seemed to be made of real silver. If it had merely been painted too look that way, most of the coloring would have come off by now. The book was obviously old.
Fragile yellow leaves of paper were neatly pressed between the two worn covers. It looked as though it had changed hands alot, but never actually been read. He looked for a title that might give him a hint to what lay inside, but it was completely unmarked in any-
The moment he had begun that thought, red lettering had just... appeared on the cover, symbols he didn't recognize forming fragile, intricate web patterns that quite literally spread out across the black material as he watched, looking very much like blood.
He watched with fascination as the object actually squirmed, the cover trying to force itself open only to be blocked by the silver clasp. Hm... there had to be some sort of trick to this, hadn't there? A chemical reaction of some sort could be attributed to the sudden appearence of the design... as for the book moving on its own, possibly something mechanical?
His own curiosity got the better of him. The lock was a small latch, easily opened with the right key. The book shivered slightly as he ran his fingers over the metal, the violent movements stilling to a gentle hum.
This was... strange. Definitely strange. There had to be a logical reason for this. If only he could open the book! Hm... if the reason for the vibrations was something mechanical, it wasn't as old as it appeared. Surely the lock could be removed without any major consequences?
He pulled lightly at the bonds, testing their strength. The book shivered with excitement, bloody design rippling across the surface. He had to know why this was occurring!
Chase managed to work one of his nails underneath the material, trying to remove the lock without damaging the cover too much. It was no good; the metal seemed melted to the cover. Nobody would care if he tore it a little bit, right?
The material eventually gave, the movements becoming more and more frantic. He swore he could see the cover pulsing, as though something was pushing at it from the inside. He gave one final tug and-
The lock was removed. For the first time since its creation 1500 year ago, the book was opened.
All hell broke loose.