Somewhere nearby, a neon sign stutter-buzzed its faint song into the otherwise still alley. A door opens and a man enters.
Were it not for the brown trenchoat that makes him look like something out of a detective novel, he would appear rather unassuming: slightly above average height, average build, short brown hair, a well maintained and thin beard ran along the length of his jawline, looping under his chin.
The eyes peering through his wire framed glasses on the other hand, were far from ordinary. They were intense and stern, surveying his surroundings as a teacher would watch over a favored pupil.
His hand went to the pocket inside his coat, and emerged holding a worn brass coin between his middle and forefinger. His fingers undulated rhythmically, passing the coin between each finger several times.
“Quaesitor veritatis” he spoke softly “revelare semitam”
His hand opened and the coin dropped silently to the pavement below, landing perfectly on its edge and rolling away from him. It traveled two feet before turning sharply, at an impossible angle, and continued to roll until it disappeared in the shadows cast between a dumpster and the alley wall.
The man’s eyes narrowed at the darkness and he spoke calmly and sternly, as a teacher would when admonishing a student. “Come out now. There’s no use in hiding.”
The shadows seemed to draw into themselves and take the shape of a frail, emaciated woman, her visage twisted into a hateful mockery of a human face.
The spirit’s voice was the soft whisper of a razor drawn across flesh. “Why do you hunt me?”
“You have killed.” the man stated bluntly. “And you’ve developed a taste for it.”
“Yes, i have.” The thing sneered and a long, rusty blade materialized in its right hand. without warning, the spirit charged at the man, bringing the blade in a downward arc to cleave the man’s head from his shoulders.
The blade stopped in mid air, striking an invisible bubble, the impact flashing a pale blue in the alley.
“Wizard!’ The spirit hissed.
The man brought his right hand to his side, his eyes focused and intent as he softly spoke.
“Recéde, spiritus” he began, as his right hand began to glow with focused anima “Recéde et numquam revenite!”
He thrust his glowing hand forward, driving it deeply into the spirit’s form. It opened its twisted mouth in a silent scream as blue lines spiderwebbed out from the point of impact, like fractures in glass, until then covered the entirety of the spirit. Then it simply fell apart along the lines, each piece dissolving into thin air until only the man remained.
He lowered his arm and walked to where the coin had rolled. Kneeling, he picked it up and uttered the same recitation as before. When he dropped the coin to the ground, it simply fell flat and did not move. He nodded in approval and picked the coin up, replacing back in his pocket.
The unassuming man took a moment to adjust and straighten his glasses before he left the alley, disappearing into the night.