HOME | DD

Description
It wasn't very hard for The Open Hands to keep the details of their workings under a shroud of secrecy, for most people readily paled at the mere mention of demons. So one insinuated its way into the material plane for long enough to warrant intervention, everyone had already fled the scene, if they were lucky.

All anyone's ever heard about the Priestesses came from excited testimonies of the few curious souls who were brave, or more aptly stupid enough to stick around.

Tales fleeted about, of their holy aura born from the waters of hidden altars, of their magic infused weapons, blazing with the manas of the divine, and of their spells which annihilated not only demon but anyone with sin in their hearts within earshot.
It begged the question how these truth-smiths could've lived to recite the stories.

It's all rubbish of course, tales for children, there was no aura that I could see, with my earthly eyes nor spectral sight, no magic weapons save for a dozen dainty mirrors strung upon a chain, and they certainly didn't recite any sin eradicating spells.

The truth is, there were no battles at all, and how the priestesses performed their miracle could not be rightly described with words anymore than the effulgence of the moon could be described by scratching on sand with a stick. But I suppose a crude metaphor would have to suffice to quench your curiosity.

The priestess merely saw who the demon really was, an otherwise benign spirit, lost, misplaced; a spirit whose name and face had been forgotten. She only had to remind it who it was, so that it remembered where it belonged and returned there of its own will, all too happy to be whole and home again.

A character design from the story Black & White by Ze Hai Liu.

Illustration by Ze Hai Liu
Art Direction By Valentina Baric

Program: Art Rage
Medium: Digital
Date: Nov 2018

Description
It wasn't very hard for The Open Hands to keep the details of their workings under a shroud of secrecy, for most people readily paled at the mere mention of demons. So one insinuated its way into the material plane for long enough to warrant intervention, everyone had already fled the scene, if they were lucky.

All anyone's ever heard about the Priestesses came from excited testimonies of the few curious souls who were brave, or more aptly stupid enough to stick around.

Tales fleeted about, of their holy aura born from the waters of hidden altars, of their magic infused weapons, blazing with the manas of the divine, and of their spells which annihilated not only demon but anyone with sin in their hearts within earshot.
It begged the question how these truth-smiths could've lived to recite the stories.

It's all rubbish of course, tales for children, there was no aura that I could see, with my earthly eyes nor spectral sight, no magic weapons save for a dozen dainty mirrors strung upon a chain, and they certainly didn't recite any sin eradicating spells.

The truth is, there were no battles at all, and how the priestesses performed their miracle could not be rightly described with words anymore than the effulgence of the moon could be described by scratching on sand with a stick. But I suppose a crude metaphor would have to suffice to quench your curiosity.

The priestess merely saw who the demon really was, an otherwise benign spirit, lost, misplaced; a spirit whose name and face had been forgotten. She only had to remind it who it was, so that it remembered where it belonged and returned there of its own will, all too happy to be whole and home again.

A character design from the story Black & White by Ze Hai Liu.

Illustration by Ze Hai Liu
Art Direction By Valentina Baric

Program: Art Rage
Medium: Digital
Date: Nov 2018