by J D Dench
Copyright © 2019 by Joseph Dench All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review. For more information, address:
[email protected]
FIRST EDITION
I would like to dedicate this book, as well as the full series, to Jorge Calvillo, Lexy Camarata, and Linda Bakshis for all of their support throughout my writing, as well as everyday life.
Also dedicated to MaryKay Dench. Thank you for always supporting me. Rest in peace grandma. I love you. Dedicated to Marykay Dench for always being supportive of my dreams and everything I sought to do with my life. Rest in peace grandma.
Prologue
After the fall of the Demon King, the Demonic lands were free to roam. Minions to the Demon King were in hiding, seeking new leadership. New guidance. New power. They sought to serve a new master, but there was nobody readily available. So the minions did exactly what they did best.
They hid.
The lands the Demons once roamed reflected this chaos simply by its appearance. Before the fall of their King, the ground had been coated in blankets of ash with dead trees sprouting from the ground to a dead, dark sky. The ashes often built up, forming hills that shifted every day, depending where the wind was blowing. The sky was always the same shade of medium gray. It never rained or snowed here, and the sun never dared show its face in these lands. The tales the world told their children about the Demonic lands filled the land with fire and bones, the Demons stomping the dead deeper into the ground. In reality, the lands were simply dull and bland. The lands were like its inhabitants: dead.
The death of both Demon Kings brought about immediate change. The clouds parted and allowed the sun access for the first time ever. The wind blew with new strength, shoving the ashes to the farthest corners and exposing fresh soil. From the soil, evergreen trees grew rapidly, standing over twenty feet tall. Vines fell from the trees, hanging above gigantic bushes. Around the trunks of the trees grew elegant, amazing flowers of unimaginable colors. Grass covered the once ash-covered ground, replacing what had been dull, gray forest floors with long, flowing blades of damp, dark green grass. The world went from a boring land full of evil to an uninhabited land from an Elven fairy tale.
How had the land changed so dramatically? The Kingdom had gone to war. The story changed depending who told it, but in the end everybody agreed on the same summary. Two humans from another world had shown up out of nowhere. One of these humans had been discovered by the Kingdom of BlueCrest, rescued by the Elves, befriended Dwarves, and battled in the Final War.
The other found the darkness that sat within their heart and became the new Demon King. He had been slain by the other human, ending the Demon leadership and forcing the Demons into hiding.
Military chief Jam’aal Liliand knew the story more than anybody else. He had been in Amberry’s troop when pursuing the Chosen One of BlueCrest. When Amberry abandoned him at their camping ground, Jam’aal followed his tracks just to find Amberry’s dead corpse in the lake with the murderers nowhere to be seen. He returned to Malkina to report what had happened. That their bravest soldier and leader had been killed while trying to become immortalized in a Prophecy.
That’s why Jam’aal was here, at the border of the Demon Lands. The Kingdom of Malkina was hardly involved in the Tale of the Prophecy, and where it was mentioned, it was about how they had captured the Chosen One, imprisoned him where a Demon unknowingly ruled, and driven him straight into the darkness that consumed him. Malkina had failed at its opportunity to be immortalized as a heroic nation. In fact, they had fed the Demons by hand, so to speak, sending the new Demon King to the Demons before they even attempted to capture him.
So Malkina would explore the Demon Lands until they found an ancient Demonic weapon, and with it they would conquer the Kingdom of BlueCrest. Jam’aal would be known as the greatest leader his Kingdom had ever known, and when their forces grew enough, they would wipe out most of the Dwarven and Elven Kingdoms, keeping enough only to use as slaves.
But the first step had to be done now. They had to find an incredibly powerful weapon somewhere in the Demon Lands. Folklore spoke of many, but how many of them were true?
A dozen of his finest warriors had been selected for the mission. Many argued he shouldn’t be going at all, but he wanted to be one of the first to see the weapon they find before his very eyes. He led the men into the Demon Lands and through the forested Demon Lands until the trees broke apart to reveal a wide, deep river. The grass here was shorter, and the ground was much softer. The river was roaring, the men struggling to hear one another over its volume. Nobody could see the bottom, and an estimation on the size of the river was at least twenty feet wide. So they did the only thing they could think of: they followed the river. Six men followed it North while Jam’aal followed it South with six other men in his company.
Needless to say, Jam’aal was not a very patient individual, so when the path South stopped to reveal a cliff, he was furious. The water fell, too, projecting off the land and cascading onto the boulders below in the largest waterfall anybody in Malkina had ever seen. Filled with rage, he yelled as loud as he could, only barely being heard above the waterfall. The waterfall seemed to roar only louder, as if accepting his challenge.
He turned around and headed back North. His men met up with him and reported there was no way across North, so the only solution was to cross the water. Jam’aal watched as five of his men were swept away by the incredible power of the current, throwing them over the edge of the cliff and sending them down to their deaths. The other seven managed to make it, and Jam’aal barely made it himself.
On the other side of the waters was an impossible sight, but Jam’aal saw it with his own eyes. The grass was even greener here than in the forest, if that were possible, and near the edge of the North-west corner of the Demon Lands stood a tall, glass castle. A castle that looked like it belonged in the Elven Kingdom. How could this stand here without anybody ever asking about it? The glass reflected the light of the sun, making it nearly impossible to gaze upon.
It was a long, tedious hike to get to the castle, so once they were near it they stopped and set up camp. They enjoyed a goat stew with extra helpings of vegetables and a pastry called Bigosh, which tasted like a cheesecake with strawberry, blueberry, and raspberry filling in the same bite. After a rest, they approached the castle. The doors to the castle stood at least fifteen feet high and were made of see-through glass. These doors also stood open, almost as if expecting them. They considered it an omen and entered through the arch.
And that is all I can say with any absolute certainty. Tales tell of how the men, led by Jam’aal, were led down one hundred flights of stairs to a chamber shaped like an eye. The stairs were said to stand in the Northern corner of the room to reveal a circular area with a mask sitting in the middle of it. The mask was cracked with age and black as the night. People say that the men, upon looking at the mask, felt eyes staring into their very hearts.
But, of course, these are simply tales.
It is said that Jam’aal led the way forward, his men only following behind because of loyalty to their leader. They all had their weapons out, but Jam’aal had stowed his own away. He muttered something, but nobody could hear what was said. It is said that the air in the room seemed to respond to his words.
And then, the legend goes, he reached out for the mask and put it on with no hesitation or fear. He was hoping to absorb Demonic power. Instead, the power is said to have consumed him. One man even claims Jam’aal’s skin darkened from pale to tan, then to dark, and then to black skin. His eyes are said to have been swallowed by darkness. And one Seeker, one who sees all
tales, claims Jam’aal was killed by the mask, his body possessed by a shadow that walked in his name.
No Malkinian men survived the castle. All stories come from what the Seekers saw in the eyes of the men, but what truly happened there will never be known. It is said that the circular room was filled with mirrors, and when the men turned around to run for the stairs, mirrors stood in their way. How did they get there? Nobody knows. All anybody is certain of is that in the morning, only a single individual walked out of the castle. Jam’aal.
The castle was known throughout the Elven Kingdom as the Glass Tomb of the Shadow Warrior.
When his feet left the doors of the castle, it fell behind him. He never turned back. The glass exploded outward, floor by floor. And, though logically there should have still been a way to the basement of the castle, to those one hundred flights of stairs downward, there was none. It was as if, while the castle shattered and fell downward, it also fell upward, leaving only a heap of glass that soon was buried under ash.
Jam’aal crouched down to the damp grass surrounding the castle and placed his hand on it. Under his touch, the grass wilted, died, and turned into dust. The land around him began to do the same as he stepped forward.
Jam’aal, now consumed by Azzaan the Shadow Warrior, smiled as his Demonic Kingdom was being restored.
“My brothers, I have awoken,” he said with a wide smile. The sun was behind him and was soon blotted out by the grayness of the clouds. As he neared the waters and snapped his fingers, the water instantly evaporated into thin air to reveal an enormous pit in the Earth.
“Brothers, I have heard about your defeat,” Azzaan hissed, his fingers gently grazing a tree. The tree burst into flame, the wicked heat spreading the fire from tree to tree and dissolving everything into ash.
“You seek guidance. I am your guidance. I am your new leader.” His voice was monotone. He wasn’t directing his speech at any individual. He knew the Demons were listening as a new, incredible power was awoken. All Demons would be looking through the mortal planes at the man who claimed so much power.
“We will avenge you all, but first I need your help getting revenge on the Elves who imprisoned me.” His eyes went to the sky, now full of clouds, and his lips curled into a wide grin. He looked down at his shadow, or at least the spot where it would have been if he carried one with him. “First, we must destroy Lillian.” He looked down at his hands with a frown. “But I am not an Elf. I’m in a human’s body.” Growling, he smacked the ground, sending a large burst of ash into the air.
“No matter! Then we will take over the humans first! Then the Dwarves, and when the Elves are standing alone, we will strike.” When he hit the ground he fell to his knees. Now, he stood on his feet and slowly turned to face the Demon army standing behind him. All eyes on him. All ears tuned to his words. And all fell to their knees, gazing upon the impossible power standing before them. He rose a single fist in the air and looked to the sky. “And my brothers, we will win. Because I am no Demon King.
“I am a Demon God.”
Chapter One
The woman turned around, that smile back on her face. “I wanted to invite you to my engagement party! We are crowning a new Demon King, and I thought you might want to see it for yourself.”
“Who’s the lucky man?”
“He was once known as Tony,” the woman responded with a wink. “He no longer fights for the same side as you.”
“Why should I believe you?” Kayla asked, a pit growing in her stomach.
Kayla took a deep, shuddering breath and a deep sip of her coffee. She wiped away the weariness that was collecting behind her eyes and read what she had already typed. And then, she continued,
Suddenly Kayla was no longer in the bathroom. She was watching Tony look up at a man named Timot. How Kayla knew that, she had no idea, but she watched Tony say three words and grow gray. She watched him kill the three men. He dipped his fingers into their blood and began writing runes in a wide circle around their dead bodies. And, once the circle was finished, the blood flooded together in the middle. A dark color spread from the center to the outskirts of where the blood had been, forming a portal that an army rose out of.
That had been a year ago, more or less. Yet this was the
scene. The latest scene Kayla had written for her first self-written book, The Demon King. All of her other works had been typed up from books Nate had written, solidifying his books forever through the power of the internet. And though none were best sellers, they were selling well enough to help Kayla pay what she needed to pay and encourage her to keep moving forward.
This book was Kayla’s first attempt to tell the story of what she experienced. But for the past month, Kayla couldn’t work through the bathroom scene. It wasn’t what Tony did that kept her frozen in place. She realized that Tony had been dead long before she had seen him open the portal. It was what happened afterword.
She flicked her wrist, and a dagger appeared in her hand. She leaned up close to Kayla, sliding the sharp metal across her gentle skin slowly. Kayla tried to defend herself, but the woman had her paralyzed in place with some kind of dark magic.
The moment seemed too real for Kayla, even reflecting back
on it now. She took another sip of coffee and forced herself onward. Kayla tried to move, forcing her willpower to obey her. But she couldn’t. She found herself lost in the woman’s eyes as she waved the dagger back and forth. She pleaded the Sword to do something, but it wouldn’t obey her. This Demon. She has Lillian and myself hypnotized.
The dagger. The inability to defend herself. The woman’s look in her eyes. She knew what was going to happen next. Her and the woman both knew it. But Kayla and Lillian had both been helpless. And Kayla remembered it all too well, even going into her dreams.
She had reoccurring nightmares of the woman with Kayla in that same bathroom. The dagger was against Kayla’s skin. She cried out, but no sound escaped her lungs. She reached out for the Sword, the source of all her power, but it was gone. Lillian had abandoned Kayla. The dagger pushed deeper and deeper, and that woman’s smile grew wider and wider.
Kayla would wake up alone in the apartment, darkness welcoming her back to the real world. She would brush the sweat from her forehead and open the journal next to her bed, writing down the dream for what felt like the hundredth time.
The same dream, over and over. I’m missing something. Lillian didn’t talk to Kayla anymore. Maybe Kayla’s world silenced the Sword, or maybe she just had nothing to say. The Sword sat in the corner of Kayla’s room, its magnificent darkness only occasionally catching Kayla’s gaze. With Matias working long, dragging shifts with the police, Kayla found herself with a lot of time to herself. Again, she considered telling Matias about the dreams, and again she told herself she couldn’t. He had enough on his plate, working day and night to provide her a place to live because she couldn’t hold down a job while writing. And again, she questioned if it was time to give up writing altogether.
She pushed aside the comforter of her blanket and turned on the lamp, illuminating the room in a pleasant glow that wasn’t too bright. Seeing the room empty and Demon free helped her, even if it was just a temporary relief. Her feet met the gentle carpet, and she walked over to the mirror hanging on the back of her door.
This is me, she thought to herself. A soft smile crossed her face. Reflecting on what had happened, Kayla was amazed at the transition she had taken in the past year.
Before, she had been a shy girl who read and spent time with Tony, nothing else. Her future was focused around him, even if his future was deciding he was going into the military. That was the last conversation they had had. They never finished that conversation, but Kayla knew she would have gone with whatever Tony wanted. Because he had been her whole world. She was naive, she realized.
Now she was the leader of a Youth Creative Writing Society at a local high school. She had published many books independently and accomplished her dream of living i
n New York, though not New York, NY where she had expected to end up. And her short brown hair was now dyed black and had grown below her shoulder blades. She had always been thin, but now she was fit. Matias had to do with part of that, and the other part was fear that if she didn’t stay in shape, something would happen that Matias couldn’t protect her from.
She constantly reflected on how she had survived in Matias’ world. Even in the bathroom scene, he had to save her.
And then, her bathroom door exploded into thousands of pieces. Matias stood in front of her, holding an old hammer. Kayla could feel the power radiating from him. He wasn’t wearing his mask for the first time Kayla could notice, and his Demonic eye was visible across the room. With a roar, he charged at the woman, swinging the hammer down at her with tremendous force.
She shifted her gaze toward Matias, freezing him midswing with that hypnotic gaze. But her gaze was off of Kayla, and that’s all she needed. Kayla lunged quickly, stabbing the woman in the chest. She then used all her force to pull the blades apart, wanting to pull the Demon apart. The woman shrieked before darkening into a shadow and breaking into millions of tiny black shards around the room. The shards were untouchable, like pieces of a shadow shattering apart.
Over her shoulder, she could see the white bookcase in the corner, the entire top two shelves dedicated to the original texts of Nate. The third was dedicated to her published versions of his texts, and the rest were various books about mythical creatures and beliefs about Demons. She rolled her eyes often when reading those books, laughing at the human conceptions of Demons. If they only had half a clue.
Next to the bookshelf was her writing desk. Her laptop was always opened to the document that held her book. In addition, her laptop was hooked up to two additional monitors. The desk looked out her window to the park across the street, which she specifically selected because of the large oak tree standing in the middle of her sight.
