Return to the Light - A Heartfelt Fantasy Tale of Friendship

A Mage Hunter Short Story + A poem from Kibbolt

Hello loyal readers!

Thank you all for joining me for a new exciting tale.

In this special Mage Hunter short story, our priestess, Heirune, battles a shadow witch to save her friend, accursed by a demon that keeps returning like a cancer. Join her and her adventurers as they face dark magic, spirits, and mutated beasts in a thrilling, faith-fueled battle. Will light prevail? Will Heirune’s patience and faith pay off?

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Before we turn darkness to light, enjoy this poem by your favorite bard, Kibbolt!

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Lightforged – by Kibbolt

Trials and tribulations, striking like a hammer and anvil,
a goddess forging her mightiest weapon
against the legions of darkness.

The destiny she has for her followers requires brutal faith.
Their spirits shall be adorned in divine iron –
for no spirit,
nor principality,
shall sunder them under her watch.

Lady Yule, blind your enemies with your holy light,
and bake them under your glory.
Render them to ash through your holy child
so this realm may bask in your hope.

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Return to the Light

The gloomy skies were as fitting as ever for Heirune. It was that time of year again for her, visiting her ailing friend in the southern village of Cottondale – the reason that sparked her journey into priesthood. The second she hopped off her horse and stepped foot onto the lawn of her cabin home, she felt the air shift sour.
Heirune knocked on the door, armed with only her holy tome and the spare key she had in the event her friend couldn’t couldn’t come to the door. “Jules, it’s me! I’m coming in!” The air washed over her like a ghostly stale wind as she stepped through. There was no response from her friend, but she could hear her moaning through the walls. The house, while tidy and well organized, started to collect dust, with a stray cobweb assembled in a corner. Heirune quickened her pace for the bedroom with looming concern.
The bedroom door peered open – it was too late. “Ahh… the filthy harlot of light has returned!” a disheveled voice boomed from the withered halfling body, layered under blankets. Her head appeared ghoulish, with pitch black eyes, and her hands were nothing but bone and skin. Both were the only parts it seemed capable of moving, “Foolish priestess! You will never rid of me forever!” it vaguely sounded like Jules, and even though Heirune knew better, she couldn’t help but feel disheartened from her words.
The tome was opened, and the golden light of Yule immediately flowed from it into the priestess’s palm. “Cath’dant’tor!” She called it by name, “I’ve expelled you once from my friend, and I will do so every time you afflict her!” Heirune raised her hand and extended forward towards the possessed woman. “Parishers 1, chapter 7, verse 12: ‘Ye who have trespassed onto my children shall know thy holy judgement. They do not belong to you, evil ones of shadow, for what’s yours is oblivion. Begone, or perish in mine light!” She cleared her voice after quoting the holy text, “in the name of the holy mistress of light, I command ye to leave this home and never return!”
The light spilled from her palm onto the bed as a black smoke started steaming from the halfling’s skin. “Ngh…! Foolish! You know how this act plays out!” it cursed. Something was wrong. The séance would normally expel the demon right away, but it’s taking longer this time. It noticed, and echoed a haunting laugh. “Ahh See? One day, your filthy ritual will fail. Every year, she grows weaker. I grow stronger.”
Heirune gritted her teeth with a furious heart roaring. As its laughter mocked, the heat built up in her, until it exploded in a wrathful rebuke, “Give me back my friend!” The light coursing from her palm abruptly sparked a blinding white light that bleached the entire room. As the light dissipated, the body of Jules fell limp.
A reassuring moment of silence followed, until that haunting chuckle returned, “I will be back...”
The priestess brow furrowed, holding back tears as she bestowed her eyes upon the frail woman, far too young to appear as disheveled as she was – as if she hasn’t eaten in weeks. How long as she been possessed this time? Her hand brushed upon her hair, made thin and wiry due to her curse. It’s getting worse, she concluded, her possessions are more frequent, they’re lasting longer, and the demon is indeed becoming stronger.
Suddenly, a waking whimper sounded from Jules before her eyes turned open. “Hrm?” her head turned, “Oh… Heirune. Hi.” She spoke with a dry voice, understandably exhausted from the ordeal. “How long was I out?”
Heirune bent down and embraced her in a hug, sniffling as the tears couldn’t be stopped. “I don’t know Jules… You were possessed by the time I got here.” Her hug tightened. She felt nothing but skin and bone in her arms, “I was so worried about you.”
Jules smiled with tears of her own. “Thank you for all you have done, Heirune. You truly are an amazing friend.”
Heirune pulled herself back, and with determination on her face, she added, “We’re going to put an end to that witch who did this to you.”
“Oh Heirune…” Jules pressed her hand against her cheek, “It’s far too dangerous without a group. Don’t throw your life away –” she was interrupted when Heirune lifted a bag.
“I made more coin than any adventurer would be willing to turn down. We are going to save you.”
Her eyes went wide. “H-how..?” Shock turned into gloom when she considered the worst, “N-no… don’t tell me!”
“Heavens no!” Heirune quickly retorted, “It’s not something I’m proud of, but it’s certainly not what you’re thinking!”
“Good… I wouldn’t be able to die peacefully if my condition led you to prostitute yourself,” she paused, “…so how did you end up getting the money?”

It was a nightmarish era for Heirune. Years ago when the blood curse settled into Jules following her encounter with the shadow witch, the surviving priest from their adventure exorcised the demon when it first appeared. Realizing the nature of her curse, Heirune committed herself to becoming a priestess of light. Finding faith and trust in Lady Yule was a challenge with the looming worry over her friend, and even over her own financial situation. She spent years learning the ways of divine magic. For the sake of her friend, the temptation of selling her body for coin was a harsh trial. Preserving her virginity was essential to the faith, and for her own self-respect. Instead, with the little bit of coin she had, she indulged in a different form of sin – gambling. Her luck came and went with each game she played with the dangerous underground crowds. Some losses, some victories. The triumphs she had often caused waves of accusations and conflicts with the patrons, narrowly avoiding altercations. At first, she ended the evenings with less than what she started with, either from her losses, or due to ignoble means. Through determination and a stubborn, fiery will, she eventually learned the games of dice and cards, and the even mannerisms of her opponents; she even developed a watchful eye for the more nefarious folk.
If Yule was offended, she'd trust her to smite her down for her iniquity.

Years went on until her goal was actualized, and the quest can be registered to destroy this powerful shadow witch. While one rigorous trial was completed, another arose that tested her patience, faith, and even her efforts. Two adventuring groups failed with many casualties, and with a few surviving others who too came under the same affliction. It wasn't until Heirune finished her trials with the church of light before she herself signed on to become an adventurer.

Months passed since her last visit to Cottondale. She was happy to see Jules in better health, though she was still weakened, and required aid with the various chores that piled up. After spending the day cleaning, Heirune returned from the kitchen with a fresh bowl of soup for the famished halfling. She pulled up a chair and sat beside her bed, placing the wooden tray on her lap. A soft smile grew on her face as Jules had enough strength to sit herself upright. “Hope it tastes right,” Heirune inquired, “normally I’d let it sit overnight for the flavors to soak, but I was worried you’re not eating enough.”
Jules took the bowl to her lips, sipping on the warm broth with a few gulps before setting it down. “It’s delicious Heirune, thank you.”
The chair creaked under her tush as the priestess readjusted, “Good. Moments like these I wish I became a druid. Could’ve made it even better with freshly grown herbs.”
“It’s probably for the best. My taste buds are still off with my appetite.”
Heirune gazed down, a gloomy frown washed over her face. Her fists clenched, reminded of the poor health of her good friend. She wasn’t as famished looking when she last saw her, but the next time that demon possesses her, it may be the last. Since their childhood she stood by her. To see her wither away, especially at her age, would be a grave injustice. A decision was made in that very moment, “Jules?”
She looked at her with a worrying brow, “Yes?”
“Over the months, I’ve become a fully-fledged adventurer,” she looked into her eyes straight forward. Right before Jules was about to congratulate her, Heirune added, “and I’ve decided, I’m going to join a party to slay the shadow witch.”
“No… no Heirune!” Jules moved the wooden trey and sat on the edge of the bed, planting a hand on her knee, “Don’t do this!”
Heirune glanced down, then back onto her eyes, “The other adventurers failed. So I’m going to see it through myself,” she pressed her hand upon Jules, “We are going to save you.”
Jules formed tears once again, “I… I-I don’t know – How do you expect me to feel if you die for my sake?” The priestess tilted her head once more. She wanted to cry, release her tears along with Jules, but there were no more for her. “Heirune!” the halfling wept for a response.
Sadness was all gone from her, and the only emotion left was frustration. Years of enduring these challenges, a ridged goal to overcome after her prolonged efforts – a lack of results would frustrate anyone. “Truth be told,” she admitted, “this isn’t just for your sake, Jules.” She looked back up, shooting her an exasperated, stoic gaze that simply read, ‘I’ve had enough, and not even the gods will stop me now.’

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The Shadow Marsh reeked of stale decay, its twisted trees clawing at the moonless sky under an artificial night. It was an anomaly, a realm afflicted with the cursed magics of the witch. Heirune led her party through the mire, her holy tome glowing faintly, a beacon against the oppressive dark. She meticulously decided upon her companions for absolute victory: a grizzled paladin whose blessed blade burned with divine fire, an elven hunter equipped with arrows tipped in consecrated silver, and a ward-breaker, a wizard that can overpower any of the dark magics they face through raw force.
Each step squelched in the cursed bog. The air remained thick with whispers, keeping the party on-edge. A low growl broke the stillness. From the shadowy mist, a beast lunged – a wolf hexed in shadows, its eyes bleeding black and purple ichor. The paladin marched on, his claymore slashing straight through its hide, but the cut wasn’t clean, and the wound was patched by the shadowy magic. It jumped back, incredibly agile in spite of the thick muck. As it leaped for the priestess, the ranger released an arrow; it struck true, the silver sizzling into the beast’s heart. With a gurgling yelp, it dissolved into a pile of blackened ooze.
Before they could catch their breath, wraiths materialized with hollow white, haunting faces, eyes and mouths as deep as an endless void. The mage chanted, his wards flaring blue, but their spectral claws dug through his body before he could finish his incantation. The spectral hands seeped visions of raw horror into his soul.
Heirune raised her staff, its tip blazing with Yule’s light. “Under the light of Yule, we stand firm!” she cried, her voice cutting through the dread, “No force of wickedness shall ever come to prosper!” The light pulsed, scorching the first few wraiths, yet more emerged, painting an endless cloud, as vast as the marsh itself. The paladin, while fending off his own, still ended up staggered with a claw grazing his arm, his face paling as the visions tried to take hold. The ranger too buckled, her breaths running as ragged. The wizard, while igniting the first spirit with her aid, his blue flames flickered as another spirit latched to him, his body quivering, and his strength sapped by its touch. The marsh seemed to tighten around them as the army of wraiths encompassed them, along with a mounting force of more cursed beasts – wolves, crows, and gators. The witch’s laughter echoed with malicious mockery through the shadowy fog.
Despair clawed at Heirune’s heart, even as the specters failed to even reach her through her staff’s light. Jules’ frail face flashed in her mind – her childhood friend, wasting away by the demon sent by this foul witch. No! She thought, I came this far, I sacrificed so much. I will not fail! Gritting her teeth, she raised her staff high into the air. “Yule, hear my prayer!” she roared, her tome flaring brighter than ever, “By faith I followed, by patience I waited, by blood, sweat, and tears I paid! As it is written, ‘Delivered is he who sacrifices to the light, for the light brings justice and truth!’ Let thy light deliver us who paid and endured, and prove your power and righteousness over the wicked!” A radiant dome of golden light erupted, rendering the spirits to ash and banishing the beasts back into the shadows. Warmth returned to her companions, revitalized in a new profound level of soothing hope chasing away the crippling despair. The claymore sang a new song as it cleaved through the beasts who dared return to the fray. The silver arrows struck true and bountiful, and the powerful embers of the arcanist reignited with a blue and gold passion.

Their valiant efforts drove a path straight to the witch’s lair: a giant gnarled tree pulsing with dark veins, miles of roots gripping the entire realm. From those ominous roots, the shadow witch emerged, a lanky, tall figure, vaguely human looking, showered in black tendrils. Her haunting eyes glowed as purple halos wrapped around void corneas. She raised a decrepit hand to the interlopers, and the ground quaked with a wave of shadowy tendrils. The sharp lashes of her sorcery scraped flesh and armor alike. The divine blade of the paladin hacked at them, but there were too many. The ranger took high ground among the trees, aiming a volley at the witch, but her arrows were seemingly ineffective. The wizard conjured a blue flaming ring, which the priestess and paladin tactfully retreated in, providing a safe haven from the witches onslaught. Heirune stepped forward and aimed her staff at the witch, which caught her hollow gaze. “Foolish priestess,” the witch hissed, “the light of your lady shall be swallowed in the abyss!”
The cracks in their defenses emerged as a tentacle struck the arcanist. One grew up towards the tree and knocked the ranger from her perch. Heirune felt the pressure boil in her veins, adrenaline rushing, almost alluring her to panic. Heirune’s faith wavered like a dip in a wave, just for a heartbeat. Then, her face emerged into her minds eye once again. “For Jules,” she whispered, raising her tome, staff pointed forward. She chanted Parishers 1:7:12, her voice trembling but unbroken: “Ye who have trespassed onto my children shall know thy holy judgement. They do not belong to you, evil ones of shadow, for what’s yours is oblivion.” As her words channeled, a divine shroud of light enveloped her party. The stinging tendrils evaporated in Yule’s truth, and no longer shall they fear the wrath of the shadow witch. “Begone, or perish in mine light!” The staff blazed, a beam of white-hot divine fury striking the witch. The creature shrieked in the blinding light, her shadows peeling away like burning parchment. The tendrils faltered, allowing the paladin to charge with his blade. She parried with a sharp claw at first, but the glowing metal eventually plunged into the witch’s core thanks to his martial prowess. While she was able to peel back from the paladin, bleeding from the deep wound, a silver arrow struck her right through the ring of her eye. With her paralyzed, the sorcerer chanted a ritual which shattered the spiritual essence with an overwhelming bout of raw mana.
The witch collapsed, her form dissolving into ash, leaving behind a necklace, glowing with a calm purple hue. The marsh quieted, and her control over the domain lifted slowly. The false night sky turned to a soft natural color – the sun was allowed to breath again. The party stood battered but alive, cheering over their hard-fought victory. Heirune fell to her knees, exhausted but triumphant. Emotion streamed from her eyes as she felt Jules’ salvation in her soul.

A familiar knock on the door called Jule’s attention. The door opened, and her eyes glowed anew, “Heirune!” She lunged at her companion with a warming hug, but tighter so was the priestess’s.
“Jules!” After the ordeal, and after recovering from the treacherous fight, Heirune visited Jules to ensure the curse was lifted. Judging by her reaction and energy, and the color restored to her once faded eyes and skin, the results were clear. However, it would take time for the halfling to fully recover her body from malnutrition.
Her faith in Yule saved her friend, a lesson she shall not forget.

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Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed that, you may like this short story.

Feel free to leave a comment and let us know what you thought of it!