Join me, or else.

The woman was wearing a red robe, and she held a grimoire. The book glowed with a vague green glowing mist and while speaking to Isabis she was also reading it. The green mist twirled around her fingers, while she flipped a page.

“Why torture yourself, Isabis?” she said.

It was said slow as if a whole breath was consumed uttering those words, but Isabis ignored it.

“Come with me then it will all be over” the woman said again.

Isabis knew the rules of the sick game the old hag was playing. Whenever she tried to concentrate or pray her voice would haunt her mind. She knew she could end it either by giving up or joining.

“Faith is not what you want it to be, is it?” the hag said.

“No.” Isabis answered.

“You are a bound to this plane, Isabis. You will never take your own life, child” the woman said.

The way she said child made Isabis think she was being tutored by a strict but respectful teacher. In a way, her words sounded like she meant what was best for her. Although Isabis knew she was being manipulated, she felt her integrity crack, like a piece of metal being bend too much.

“Yet you come here to pray. Do you not know your destiny, child?” she said.

Isabis turned her head towards the old woman. Not to provoke her, but to observe her for a moment. The green mist now formed a web between her and the woman, Isabis followed them as they entered her chest. She slowly reached for them, but her hand went trough the transparent green wires. Then the woman closed her grimoire.

“The man you are seeing. He is a threat. You have seen it in his eyes.” her tone changed, the mist like web turned blood red.

When the woman said 'eyes', it was prolonged to a hissing sound, as a snake would do.
Voices undefined and demon like could be heard, inside of her and around her. Isabis reached for her chest. She slowly bend forward trying to compensate the pain.

“Stop it!” she said on the verge of panic.

“Please stop it!” she begged.

Images of hanged people, fallen loved ones. Disease and corruption picturing children succumbing to them. Murder and brutal gore flashed before her eyes. She felt she was on the verge of losing control when suddenly -

“… are you okay?” a faint, far-away voice asked.

It felt other worldly, not at home in the million of voices and visions haunting her.

“Ma’am, shall I call for a priest?” the worried voice now clearer, more vivid.

“Ma’am wait here I’ll...” The white robed man didn’t finish his sentence.

Isabis interrupted the man, still bend forward, and sweat rushing from her forehead. Her eyes had trouble focusing on the man.

“It’s ... It’s okay. Brother, don’t... Don’t worry.” Isabis coughed, trying to sound as honest and confident as possible.

“It’s a ritual I’m attempting, nothing else” she said, looking at the man.

“Very well, Madam.” the man said clearly not convinced but content with the answer.

Isabis remained on the spot for a while, then got up, fighting her tears.