While Driks really did intend to track the murderer by scent he wasn't being entirely honest with his companions. Due to his innate magic he had a few more efficient tricks up his sleeve. He actually had the ability to look into someone’s soul and view their history. Forging a connection with someone would allow him to magically experience any part of their life. With all the corpses below he was confident that he would gain a clear understanding of what happened. He tried not to dwell on the horrors he would soon experience as the group trekked to the surface.
Once in the fresh air Driks ushered everyone else outside claiming they stunk and would interfere with the hunt. This wasn’t even remotely true, Dover’s scent was a mix of his own and nature, Cynder carried the smell of fire, and he spent so much time around the others he could easily ignore them, no matter how long it had been since they last bathed. He really just wanted privacy to steel his nerves for what he knew would be deeply unpleasant. He took a seat on the floor, attempted to get comfortable, took a deep breath of air, gritted his teeth and entered a trance.
THUMP.
In his mind's eye he watched as a body fell and slammed into the ground, wincing as he experienced the pain in the memory himself.
THUD.
Another person fell, their body mangled by the fall.
Driks suffered through another dozen deaths before encountering a victim whose will was strong enough to trace backwards.
SMACK.
Searing pain filled his mind as he focused on one who initially survived the fall only to die in agony. Rewinding the memory he felt the wind and saw the wall blur by as the man realized his death was imminent. The man had been walking in a daze until the sudden disappearance of the ground startled him to alertness.
The memories were hazy, as if the villager had been walking through fog. Recognizing that this was caused by a spell of compulsion Driks expanded his mind to reach for other villagers as they also approached the edge. As he grabbed more threads of life his awareness began piercing through the fog. Finding the magic which was controlling them he recognized it as directly manipulating life energy. Whoever was casting it was channeling d’Ryepre's powers.
He slowly searched through the fog for the culprit, each mental step making the image more clear. Finally he found himself before a demonic visage with leathery black wings, a thin whiplike tail, and patches of scales along its back and limbs. The figure wore tattered pants and there was a small pile of clothes nearby, as if it couldn’t bring itself to fully strip before shifting forms.
Once the image was clear enough he grabbed at the monster's thread. As his mind wrapped around it he sensed overflowing power mixed with fear and confusion. Fighting with the thread he discovered a tangled and knotted mess. The reason quickly became apparent as he fought for a better grip, it wasn't a single thread, it was multiple. This monster had first stolen d'Ryepre's life thread, bound it to its own, and then proceeded to claim the villagers’ souls one by one. It callously cut and tied each thread of life to its own sickly and rotten core.
After what felt like hours, though likely was merely minutes, Driks managed to expose the vile thread of the villain. Taking a moment to regain his composure he slowly stretched his mind towards it. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he seized it. Though appearing sickly, the energy behind it was strong, and it struggled against his approach, twisting and whipping like a snake. It took Driks' full concentration but he captured it, enabling him to view the villain’s life.
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Despite dreading the experience, Driks still needed to know what happened here. Peering into the soul he sought the memories of the ritual itself.
He snuck into the village on a moonless night, his keen vision easily piercing the gloom. Though hidden to normal mortals, it wasn't hard to track the stench of a dragon. He quickly found the hidden passage in the deserted meeting hall and followed his nose to d’Ryepre's resting spot. The beast was in deep hibernation and appeared dead to the world. Still, for the ritual to succeed he couldn't take any chances and layered multiple spells on the dragon to ensure he didn't wake when his blood was drawn.
After climbing out of the pit, placing the materials for the ritual blurred by in a well rehearsed routine. The candles were lit and the bowls were filled with blood. The words of the ritual were experienced as a painful buzzing.
None of that mattered to Driks though, as he watched the memory his attention was drawn to the magical tome being read. Oozing demonic energy, Driks was shocked to realize the book had controlled the man even before the ritual began. He may have become a monster, but he was yet another victim.
With no other choice Driks watched more of the man’s life, trying to see exactly when he was corrupted. He traveled back through the soul’s memories, first day by day, then week by week, until finally month by month. The possession was a slow and agonizing process, every day for months on end the entity tightened its control over the man’s body.
At first he only lost a moment in time, but those moments grew steadily longer. It wasn’t until he started waking up in odd places that he realized something was seriously wrong. Every night became a battle as he struggled to sleep when his body wanted to move. He fought with all his will, but each time he sought aid the entity quickly took control. Eventually he would escape from the mental prison, but it became harder each time until eventually he was nothing but a prisoner in his own body.
Before receiving the book the man, Perd, had mostly lived a normal mortal life. He had the misfortune to be born with faint traces of dragon blood, but aside from its untapped potential there was nothing to set himself apart from others. Despite that, he knew he was different somehow, and spent much of his life seeking answers. These answers were blatantly obvious to a dragon, and other magically aware entities, and that made him a target. That led to the fateful meeting which stole his free will.
Being far from major trade routes, the trading post was quiet. Perd couldn’t imagine why a scholar would be here, but intellectuals were known to have unusual habits. Ultimately it didn't matter, as long as the scholar truly had the answers he'd promise to reveal. Arriving at the tavern where they were supposed to meet, Perd had no trouble spotting the figure in the corner of the room. It was a thin man wearing a black hooded cloak. His hands were bony, practically skeletal, and the cloak hid his features. Perd could easily imagine the stranger’s body creaking as he lifted a hand to motion him over.
Not wanting to gain false hopes once again Perd was skeptical and approached the cloaked figure cautiously. The message had said he had answers and knew what Perd was, but little more. Based on that Perd had expected some manner of swindler, but the stranger's frail appearance quickly dashed that idea. Sliding an ancient book towards Perd the man’s words were simple, “Take this book,” and Perd reflexively reached for it...
BZZZT!
Driks reeled back from the memory as Perd touched the book, pain flooding his senses. Driks made one last desperate struggle to gather information on the hooded man as the vision rapidly faded, but his connection to the soul was too faint. He had no option but to abandon the attempt as he dared not risk losing his grip on the demon's thread. If he lost that, this would all be for nothing.
Sweating and exhausted Driks collapsed to the dirty floor of the hall as the trance fully ended, the pain and horror he experienced still lingering in his mind...
I considering posting the first half (~600 words) early but decided against it. Should I have posted a tiny chunk rather than delay?
