Edwin had a feeling he knew what he was going to hear next, but it bore investigation regardless, “I came here from the holy city. You’re hardly the last.”

  Pradip shook his head, “The Acolynians may worship the Twelve, but they are not the true God.”

  Instantly, Edwin had a bitter taste in his mouth, “No! I refuse.”

  If it was possible to sound impatient but sagely, Pradip seemed to have mastered the tone, “You do not realize what it is you say.”

  The redhead’s tone was icily even, “When I got brought here, I was told I’d be taking part in a war to save the world from demonic invasion. Now, I’ll admit to not knowing much about demons or magic especially since I don’t seem to have any. But from the scraps of memory from who I was, I know I’m a warrior. I’m not interested in dying, but I was willing to go along with it. But I refuse to involve myself with the petty infighting of religious zealots.”

  Pradip raised his hand placatingly, “Peace, Hero, peace. I understand your fear, but that is not what you were brought to this world for. Much blood has been shed in the name of faith, but this is not the time.”

  Edwin’s hand rested on his lap, close to his knife, “This isn’t the time? But I’m assuming it will be soon. Isn’t that how it goes?”

  “Our intentions are not separate from the Acolynians”, Pradip insisted, “We merely have a difference of method and goal. And of course, a different source of reliance.”

  His explanation was clearly incomplete, but at the least, Edwin felt the man wasn’t trying to recruit him for a crusade.

  “The Acolynians want to contain the threat. By leaving the Conceptual demons and the Spawnlings to roam freely in our home, it gives the world an easy target and a way of observing from afar. And for the past seven hundred years, they have been successful.”

  The statement was left hanging in the air, “I sense there’s a ‘but’ in that sentence.”

  Pradip paused for a moment in minor confusion at Ed’s manner of speaking, “But each time, their gods seem less effective and there is more relying on Otherworlders like you. They seem to blame this on the Industrialists and other progressive thinkers, but they are looking at the result and not the cause.”

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  As Edwin considered his very presence in this world, Pradip's words felt like a noose tightening around his neck, “The heroes aren’t going to be enough, are they?”

  Pradip said nothing, but that silence held a damning presence. Angry mutterings came from the other veiled persons. As far as combatting supernatural threats, the nations’ containment plan sounded valid. If you could keep your enemy on what was essentially a continental penal colony, it made for an easy point of reference for when the eventual war came. Predictable direction and mode of travel, and if they kept track of who became Corrupted, it gave valuable advance warning of the enemy’s weakness. Perhaps it was a crude method but…. Wait!

  “Home? What do you mean home?”, Edwin asked as he realized the innocuous part of the explanation.

  Bitter laughter that sounded like a rusty wheel turning rippled through the veiled people. Even Pradip, sounding like his throat was made of sandpaper, joined before a raking cough came.

  Taking a moment to breathe deeply, “Did you think the place known as the Corrupted Lands have simply existed forever? No! All those centuries ago, it was known as Khuchtei, the Land of the Strong. We mastered the land and we praised our God for blessing us so. But the other nations, they feared us. And when the demons came, they abandoned us. Our home was lost forever, and we were branded unbelievers who wouldn’t have been defeated, had our faith been stronger.”

  Despite his trepidation, Edwin found himself absorbed in the this telling of history which was completely ignored during his stay in Acolynia, “What kind of power did you have that everyone else feared you? And if you were that strong, how did you lose?”

  The mood around the fire dampened even further and the light from the flames seemed to darken, “We don’t know. The demons have had the same king all this time. Muma ‘ Iru Rabasa Du’ ‘Umis.”

  Merely speaking the name made Edwin’s very bones feel like they were coated in frost, and made his throat constrict to where he struggled to breathe. Pradip growled as he thought of the damnable demon.

  “You… you actually said it”, he said breathlessly, “Everyone always said to never speak of them. That names have power, and it gives them form.”

  Pradip traced the outline of his knife holster, “They are not wrong to do so. But, to live in fear of even the names gives a different kind of power. If you live in that fear, it shows they control you even without them doing anything”, the ancient man drew the triangular knife, “To speak a demon’s true name in terror is what truly strengthens them. It is their unique form of submission. Most of all, we refuse to show cowardice, even to their king, for what he did to us. He placed a curse on us as we fled”, Bataar spoke bitterly, “We cannot remember the fullness of what made us strong. What connected us to our God. The true essence of who we are and what our God desired from us. He cursed us to forget it all.”