Accursed Heir

The Pastor’s Secret

The clock struck midnight, each chime echoing through the empty streets of Raven’s Hollow. The fog clung heavily to the ground, creeping around the ancient stones like a silent tide. Within the church at the heart of town, Pastor Elijah Longfellow knelt alone before the altar, whispering words in a language older than the land itself. He pressed his fingers to the worn edges of the stone, tracing symbols carved centuries ago by those who once stood as guardians of this town.

By day, he was simply Pastor Elijah, a figure of warmth and guidance for his parishioners. But under the cloak of night, he became Saint Longinus, a protector bound by blood and tradition to shield the town from the malevolent forces that had haunted it for centuries. His grandfather had trained him for this role, a legacy passed down through countless generations of Saint Longinus, protectors sworn to guard Raven’s Hollow against the dark.

He drew a breath and spoke the last words of the rite. An invisible barrier, woven from the energy of ancient incantations, settled over the town like a thin veil, protecting its people from the creatures lurking just beyond the veil of the ordinary.

But tonight, something felt… different. The air held a chill that cut deeper than the winter wind, sinking into his bones. Elijah’s eyes narrowed as he focused, sensing a shift—a weakness in the protective barrier. It had been this way since the night Lina handed him those divorce papers, severing not only their marriage but the sacred bond he had woven around her family. Her betrayal had tainted his vow, weakening the strength of the protection he’d poured his heart into over the years.

A faint scratching echoed through the silence, jerking Elijah’s attention to the old wooden doors. The sound was almost imperceptible, like a claw scraping along the stone walls of the church, a dark whisper against the night.

“Elijah?” a soft voice called, startling him. He turned to see Clara, his young assistant, standing just inside the doorway, her expression tight with worry. Clara was new to Raven’s Hollow, full of questions and wonder about the town’s age-old traditions. She watched Elijah with wide eyes, as if she sensed a side of him she hadn’t known existed.

“Yes, Clara?” Elijah asked, masking his unease with a gentle tone.

“I thought I heard something… outside.” She hugged herself, glancing over her shoulder toward the heavy doors. “It sounded like scratching. It gave me chills, Pastor.”

Elijah managed a soft, reassuring smile. “The wind can be deceptive on nights like this. It’s easy to imagine things.” He spoke lightly, but his eyes remained shadowed with concern.

Clara hesitated, her gaze drifting back to the door as though drawn by an unseen force. Elijah watched her, feeling the weight of secrecy settle over him. He’d taken vows to protect the town’s innocents, and Clara was one of them—yet he couldn’t tell her about the darker side of Raven’s Hollow, or the horrors that lurked just beyond her understanding.

“Go home, Clara,” he said gently. “Get some rest. I’ll close up for the night.”

Reluctantly, Clara nodded, giving him a small smile before slipping out into the fog-laden night. Elijah watched her disappear down the steps, her footsteps fading until only silence remained. Once he was alone, his expression hardened, his gaze shifting to the door. He could still feel it—that dark presence, pressing against the barrier he’d raised. This wasn’t a stray spirit or an unsettled wraith. It was something older, something patient.

He slipped a hand into his coat, his fingers brushing the cold metal of his silver-tipped staff, concealed from curious eyes. Tonight, his vigil would not end at the church doors.

As he stepped outside, the night air bit into his skin, thick with the scent of damp stone and earth. Raven’s Hollow lay cloaked in mist, its narrow streets and crumbling stone facades appearing ghostly in the moonlight. The town was silent, save for the occasional creak of a swinging sign or the soft rustle of leaves. The fog shifted and danced around him as he moved, masking his footsteps and blurring his outline as he made his way toward the edge of town.

It was here, in the shadows of the town’s boundaries, that the entity waited. Elijah stopped, his heart quickening as he felt the creature’s gaze settle on him, piercing through the fog like two hollow, gleaming eyes. The creature stepped forward, its emaciated frame cloaked in shadow, its eyes reflecting a sickly glow that seemed to mock him.

A voice, cold and rasping, filled the silence. “Saint Longinus…” it hissed, drawing out his title with a taunting lilt. “Protector of the town, bound to the light. Tell me, what has become of your holy vow?”

Elijah’s grip tightened around the staff, his jaw set in determination. He’d heard similar taunts in his battles before, but the words struck harder this time. The creature knew.

“You have no place here,” Elijah replied, his voice steady, though his eyes held a glint of anger. “Return to the shadows where you belong.”

The creature’s lips curled into a chilling smile, its hollow eyes unblinking. “The scent of betrayal lingers in the air. Broken promises… a feast we have awaited for centuries.”

A flicker of rage sparked in Elijah’s chest, but he forced himself to remain calm. “Whatever power you think you have, it is no match for the wards I’ve placed around this town.”

The creature’s mocking laughter echoed through the fog, sharp and bitter. “Your wards are weakened, protector,” it sneered. “Your vow was shattered, and the bond lies broken. The feast has only begun.”

With a sudden, fluid movement, the creature lunged at him, its skeletal limbs reaching out like claws. Elijah moved instinctively, thrusting the silver-tipped staff forward, its tip flaring with a brilliant, searing light. The creature let out a shriek, stumbling back, its skin smoking where the light had struck it.

It scuttled backward into the fog, its shape blurring and twisting as it vanished from sight, but its mocking voice lingered in the air. “Your power is slipping, Saint Longinus. We can smell your weakness, and we will return.”

As the fog swallowed the creature’s form, Elijah remained rooted to the spot, his breathing shallow, heart hammering in his chest. The encounter left a bitter chill in his bones, a cold that no warmth could chase away. The creature’s words echoed in his mind, stirring memories of the night his life had unraveled.

He saw Lina’s face in his mind, the way her eyes gleamed with something darker than ambition as she handed him the divorce papers. He remembered the hollow ache in his chest as she revealed her betrayal, telling him that the child she carried belonged to Charles Remington. It wasn’t just the loss of his marriage that haunted him—it was the knowledge that her treachery had broken something sacred, unraveling the delicate threads of protection he’d woven around her family.

The vows he had sworn to uphold, the ancient rituals passed down from Matthias, all undone in one cruel stroke.

Elijah shook himself from the memory, the bitterness lingering like a metallic taste on his tongue. He couldn’t afford to lose focus, not with shadows like these encroaching on Raven’s Hollow.

He turned and made his way back toward the church, the fog swirling around him as though trying to hold him back. The walk felt longer, the silence heavier, the night darker. The streetlamps flickered as he passed, their light dimming under the weight of the unseen presence that loomed at the edges of his vision.

When he reached the church, Elijah slipped inside, shutting the door firmly behind him. He leaned against it for a moment, gathering his thoughts, feeling the oppressive weight of responsibility settle over him once more.

As he extinguished the last candle, the church fell into shadow. The creature’s parting words replayed in his mind, a sinister reminder of what was to come.

“The bond is shattered… and the feast has only begun.”

He glanced at the empty pews, his eyes drawn to the faint outlines of the old symbols carved into the wood, symbols that had protected generations before him. But tonight, even they felt hollow, as though their power had faded along with his broken vows.

A dark figure loomed at the edge of his vision, just outside the church’s windows. Elijah’s pulse quickened as he stared, unable to make out its features through the fog. But those hollow eyes, watching him from the shadows, were unmistakable.

For the first time, a flicker of doubt crept into his mind. He’d fought countless battles, confronted monsters that defied human understanding, but tonight, alone in the fog-filled silence, he felt a chill deeper than any he’d known before—a silent, gnawing fear that perhaps this time, his defenses would not be enough.

Elijah took a steadying breath and raised his staff, prepared to face whatever darkness awaited him.

But in a blink, the figure was gone, leaving only the suffocating fog and the haunting echo of the creature’s laughter.