What Shadows Lie [Closed]

Old wood groaned as the weary staircase shifted under Rei’s weight, and the young woman moved slowly, pausing after each step to listen. The steps themselves weren’t so different, they squeaked when stepped on, croaked as they settled, but stillness made things clear, the gentle roll of her own breathing, the sharp cut of wind through a cracked window. When nothing responded, Rei would take another step, and the attic door would loom ever closer. It had been a fine door once, but now what remained of the door bowed inwards held upright by a dislocated hinge, the dark beyond undaunted by the beam of her flashlight.

It had to be here.

Rei tucked her rifle into the hollow of her right shoulder as she ascended the final step. She reached out and placed the palm of her left hand against the battered door, the rough wood prickling against her skin. She applied pressure, the hinge protested with a screep but relented as the door shuttered forward an inch. Rei once more paused as she listened for the response of the house. Gentle rhythmic creaks. The whisper of disturbed air. The itch of silence. Rei pressed and the door granted her another inch.

She could feel the wind outside wavering of the walls around her, the house’s crooked joints stretching to retain their intended shape. Rei shifted her weight forward, she pressed her shoulder against the door as she returned her left hand to her rifle to keep it steady. She slid the rifle’s barred through the gap allowing the light of her flashlight to bleed through and chase away a thin beam of gloom. A doll sat on a trunk, time leaving its face more cracks than porcelain as its eye glittered welcome.

Left or right. Her body tensed as she leaned against the door, and with an exhale she relaxed. She willed her heart to calm. Right felt correct.

With a shove of her shoulder Rei pushed the door open the remainder of the way and slipped through the opening. The air here felt slimy against her skin, and carried with it a lingering smell of dampness with a sharp undercurrent of sickly-sweet wood rot. Rei swept her rifle to the right to check her surroundings as she stepped up onto the landing. Dark rushed to fill the places the light did no touch, it turned chairs to teeth, water-damaged rolls or carpet into misshapen bodies, and it granted motion to the edge of vision. She moved carefully here, tested rotten flooring with the balls of her feet before trusting her weight to it fully, remained wary of pieces of trash she could stumble on. Her eyes studied the places where darkness gathered, corners, edges, and —

Hairs on the back of her neck bristled as something cold settled between her shoulder blades. Rei stopped. The floorboard underfoot crackled, but Rei’s gaze lingered on a knot of dark that shivered with a sigh of wind. A torn dress? Curtains? Carefully Rei placed her index finger against the trigger guard and she smoothly traced her beam of light along the back wall stopping as it reached the twist of darkness.

And the shadow twitched.

A snarl, low and bestial, the sort that rattled in the marrow of the bones and prickled the skin, filled the room as the shadow unfurled. Its body spread wide as it lurched in her direction like fingers reaching, but Rei held, her finger falling to the trigger of the rifle. She aimed her light at the center of the mass, and shadow brined wherever the beam touched. Strips of frayed cloth burst orange as they were consumed. She didn’t flinch as the shadow crashed through a pile of decaying chairs and sent wooden shrapnel bouncing off her hip. She remained steady, finger resting on the trigger until she saw the shine of skin beneath the frayed cloth, then she squeezed.

The crack of the rifle filled the attic, bounced off the grumbling support beams as Rei yanked the bolt of her rifle back with her right hand. The shadow spun backwards with the force of the impact as the spent shell bounced into the dark with a hollow ring. Rei advanced, steps wide and quick, the bolt clicking back into place as she cycled the round. The shadow wheezed, the sound of wind creeping between trees on a moonless night.

Rei steadied the rifle and shone the light on what would pass for a head. Skin tightened the flesh and bone beneath smoldering, and its lips parted like an open wound. Empty sockets lingered, malice in the twist. Rei pulled the trigger and a second crack filled the air.

——

For those who have nowhere else to turn, a cozy shop bathed in the neon glow of the commercial district offers hope. It's doubtful you’ll find Final Rites listed among much more reputable establishments online, though it does have a website you can visit. No, this odd shop is the sort of thing you only really learn about by word of mouth from grateful customers or the recommendation of a local priest. Which is probably how the owner likes it, the services on offer aren’t really of much use to anyone who doesn’t already need the help. And, helps to keep curious kids away too.

Mostly.

The services offered by Final Rites is one that seems more in line with the superstitions of the past than they do the modern bustle of today. If you find yourself stained by a Noroi, one you can’t simply get cleansed away, then the Hexbreaker can free you of your curse, for a price.

Let’s take a step back.

Noroi are evil spirits born from the hearts of people and given shape by the grudges and resentments which we all carry. They are living curses, stains upon all that they touch and in a way that makes it foolish to try to apply reason to their actions. Noroi are our grudges, aimless and hungry, damaging all who pass too close and attract their attention. Once a person has caught their attention a Noroi will not let them escape, for some this means they will follow their victim home and for others they will find ways to pull the victim back to where the Noroi lingers. Not everyone can see these spirits, and even fewer know how to deal with them.

Hexbreakers are hunters of Noroi, though it’s hard to say if they really share much beyond that. Their reasons for getting into this line of work are often as different as the tools they use, perhaps one of the main things that they do share is the use of specialized lights and metals to make Noroi vulnerable. Often Hexbreakers will have deals with local shrines or temples, offering their services to help deal with stray Noroi that have made their way into modern life.

Curse Weavers are possibly one of the oldest practitioners of crooked magic. Using objects, Weavers capture Noroi and bend the spirits to their own design for use in rituals or the casting of spells or curses. Though, with Weavers it’s hard to say if there’s much difference between a spell and a curse. The Weavers of old left behind a legacy of strange rituals and binding curses that are said to be able to create Noroi or to command the spirit to your will, real ones you can find floating around in the net from time to time. There aren’t many Weavers left, but their objects remain bringing ruin to those unlucky enough to find one in their possession.

Sin Eaters are holders of a bloodline curse, one that they have inflicted upon themselves. Sin Eaters are those who have consumed a Noroi, and imprinted the curse upon their flesh. Their powers are those of the Noroi they have consumed, and their children shall share in their strength and always be haunted by the monsters living in their veins. The price you pay to become more than yourself.

There, the basics for you. Won’t even charge you.

So, tell me this, you looking for help or are you looking for work?