Damned

by K R Leikvoll

  Thankfully, my demonic brothers were more than willing to aid in my recovery. Our Master was too busy tending to Queen Alexis to be of any use. I did not desire to ask for his blood, no matter how much I needed it. Instead, I substituted it for Raven’s in secrecy. After time spent in the training yard, James often would visit with his katoma, granting me the opportunity to see Raven in the library.

  The doses of blood he gave me were plentiful. In fact, it became obvious that he felt when I took his offerings it was a divine compliment. Between his ample sacrifices and sparring with James, I recovered faster than I would have estimated. If I had been a mortal and managed to not die from my ordeal, it could have taken me years to return to normal. As a demonic prophet, it took me mere weeks to bring James down in our one on one duels.

  The winter I had woken to was the start of many frozen years spent in Kaeda. The food shortages had Vince’s own citizens riled against him, but he still ignored their pleas. Rather, he decided to address the problem by openly declaring war on the Empire of Zaar, announcing to the world that they were responsible for the crisis and violence plaguing our continent. It did not cause the outrage and starvation to cease, nor the riots. He was entirely unworried, for when the time came for openings in our regime, the population flocked to join. Those serving in the war efforts got food, and it was more important than their grudges and griefs against him. The propaganda and gossip that the Empire of Zaar was starving as well made us seem entirely correct in our accusations.

  The new Emperor Aresius could not easily respond and defend himself, anyway. His uncle was the leader of the southern city Diam’s rebellion. It was unlikely that he would simply allow his nephew to rule when he had already turned on the previous Emperor before his death. No news had come in beyond what Queen Alexis had brought. The locked down borders made it difficult to get our scouts in and out, but the entire Empire had indeed entered their own civil war. The capital Uxe and the northern city of Remula were united, which should have been enough to quell the rebellion. It did not play out well for them, as Diam was the location of their farms and trade. They may have had the numbers, but they were dying of hunger. It was all precisely how Vince wanted it to be when we attacked.

  Our visitors left soon after, much to some of my coven’s grief. Lilith had no place in war and Queen Alexis could not be caught conspiring with Duskwraith. Femora had remained linked to Evya and the Luxian Empire for many years. Despite Duskwraith’s neutral world stance, she could never openly support us after the destruction of A’roha. She was a demon in complete disguise, going as far as filing her fangs to prevent any from being suspicious.

  My Master did not seem to care that they were leaving, while both of his sisters suffered from a range of emotions. Queen Alexis was the eldest of Sendrys’ demonic children, making their bond strained from the distance they kept from each other. At the time, I did not know whether the Femoran Queen willingly changed into a demon, but she was mournful to depart from her master. I knew the feeling all too well.

  Guinevere, on the other hand, was absolutely terrified at the idea of her giant guardian leaving her alone with Vince. Lilith’s presence was the only thing keeping him at bay that entire time. All of us knew that it was going to be a very unpleasant few days while our Master expelled his frustrations. Truthfully, I was happy that she was going to be the one on the receiving end instead of me. It did not matter who it was, as long as it wasn’t me again.

  She was temporarily spared, as Vince called Sendrys, Raven and I to a meeting. Naturally, we all shared expressions of concern as we followed him into the throne room. Guinevere did not care how she appeared; she ran away to her tower to barricade herself as deep as she could before he returned for her.

  “The end time has come, as our precious Gods have so desired,” my Master told us in a slightly sarcastic tone. “War requires War, wouldn’t you agree?”

  The physical relief on Raven and Sendrys’ faces calmed me as well. We were temporarily worried he had somehow heard our conversation in the wine cellar. Raven even brushed my hand when our Master moved to retrieve a silver chest concealed within his throne. It was a notion to help me relax before he went to assist Vince.

  When they returned to us, they all held out their hands near the box. Black shadows coaxed themselves from my Master’s fingertips, winding through a crescent-shaped hole near the lock. Dark, sage colored wind swirled around Raven’s form, joining Vince’s shadows through the circular center hole. The final crescent on the right side was the last to be opened, which was done with the purple bolts of light trailing down Sendrys’ arm. All at once, the chest popped open, causing them to stop whatever abilities they were channeling.

  A strange black shard floated from where it was being held prisoner toward the sky as if it wished to return to the stars. I could hear whispers from the shadows it emitted. Even Lord Nakarius’ presence in my mind was compelled and pleased to see it as if he had known it from somewhere before. It could have easily fit in the palm of my hand as it floated before me. I was so drawn to grab it, it took all of my mental willpower to remain patient as my kin and I formed a circle.

  “This is the third shard of the Dark Essentia,” Vince stated, pleased by my obvious desire. “Never before has one been worthy of wielding such a wrath-driven weapon. Who better to take up the mantle of War than the incarnate of anger and violence itself?”

  “I hold the first shard, Pestilence,” Raven told me, grasping at the air. A strange, exotic weapon appeared in his hands after a wave of green magic. The base was made of wood that reminded me much of the trees in Violence. At the end of it, there was a massive, crescent-shaped blade large enough to cut a man in half.

  “The second shard is Famine,” Sendrys said, following suit. Her scythe was enveloped in shadows and seemingly more spectral than physical. Intricate edging on the steel made it appear like a horrifying thing to be killed by, as it would tear and rip long before it would cut. The slight purple hue nearly swallowed her entire form.

  “Pestilence, Famine, and War,” I whispered, confused as to why their names felt so familiar on my lips. There was still something missing. I glanced at my Master curiously who returned my gaze with a satisfied smile. Of course, he would have the final shard.

  “The last piece of the puzzle,” he whispered, opening his hand to empty space. A split black blade was summoned into his grasp. My heart froze when I saw it, as it looked like it was made from the same material as the dagger I had used to kill him in the Void. It was not of our world; it was created of something from far off in the cosmos. Small shanks as sharp as knives orbited around the hilt, preventing any from attempting to disarm him. It appeared almost impossible to hold, though he had no difficulties.

  “Death,” I said without needing the others to tell me. Vince may have been slightly taken aback by my knowledge, but it only made Raven and Sendrys respect me more. I did not know the blade’s name in actuality. Rather, it was told to me from the whispers of the shadows only I seemed to hear. Being so close to all of the shards caused me to feel a strange magnetism toward the other wielders. They were all very much connected, and I sought to be as well.

  “It is the most precious gift I can give you,” my Master stated, gently stroking my shoulder with affection. His constant ups and downs since I had awoken were leaving me on edge. I never knew if he was going to be sweet or sinister at any moment – sometimes even both. Though at that time, I hardly knew what it was like to deal with his truly neurotic behavior. What I was seeing then was simply the beginning of his personal descent into madness.

  With silent permission from the others, I reached out to take the third shard – War. After long chats with Raven over the years about the differences between each one, I can say with certainty that while War was the most bloodthirsty, it was also the most manageable to wield. It was only physical in my hand for a moment before a blinding crimson light erupted from my palm. Cracks of electricity and flame shot toward the cei
ling, surrounding all four of us in a storm of cinders. I was not frightful of what was happening, rather I was invigorated and fascinated by the whole ordeal.

  Dark murmurs blocked out all of the abundant noise, demanding the price for its service, lest I be cursed to die if I refuse. It was a simple choice, as I hardly worried about my fate in the Void. My paradise was mine as long as I did what my Gods asked. The Dark Essentia was so grand, only a fool would deny themselves the right to use it.

  “At last,” Lord Nakarius said, delighted by his sweet reunion.

  It was an interesting creation. I could feel the weight of every soul it had devoured since its birth. Though it already had enough to be sated, it still desired more. It was an ancient device beyond just a weapon. When it was summoned into my hands by fiery shadows, I held two sickle-shaped blades that were entirely weightless and hummed with energy. I could see the outline of every mortal in our palace, but it was more like a spot in my vision than a detailed view. The energy between the shards of the Dark Essentia was strong as well; it was felt even though there was a slight distance between us all. It was as if I could sense the other pieces in a similar way that I could sense my Master or demonic brothers. It was drawing us together, enticing us to make the Dark Essentia whole once more.

  “Leave us,” Vince demanded of Raven and Sendrys. I was worried to be alone with him – I did not wish to be the target of his frustrations with Guinevere. Nonetheless, both of them bowed properly to avoid the same thing and parted. No matter how much we would have liked to stand up to him, we all preferred being on his good side. It hadn’t taken me long to figure out how it worked.

  He did not seem as upset as he had previously, but I was cautious in case there was another hole he wished to trap me in. I quickly assessed that it would be better to remain positive and calm than to show my true emotions. I pulled on our blood bond to guide me to how I was expected to feel rather than I really did. Kneeling at my Master’s feet, I kissed his hand with adoration.

  “You are gracious with your gifts,” I whispered with a falsely smitten attitude. I was thankful for his careful safekeeping of War and the other shards, but that weapon was always mine. Whether it was him or another, I was going to get my hands on it no matter what. Such is fate, but I needn’t mention that to my Master.

  Vince pulled me into an embrace and held me as if he loved me. As much as I tried to remain above my petty feelings, our contact was waging a battle in my mind. The prophet inside of me was trying to ease into playing his games. Another part was horrified to be so near, as if any moment I may be tortured or buried again. The final piece of my consciousness was still in love through the power of our bond. It was all a confusing swirl of emotions. I was still unsure of so much.

  “Anything for my Queen… all in hopes that you would do the same for me,” he replied, brushing his lips to my cheek. I had no idea what he was insinuating, as I had not disobeyed anything he said thus far.

  “I pledged myself to you, didn’t I?” I said with a small smile, hoping to keep him in a pleasant mood. He studied me for a while in silence, deliberating something that made me uneasy. We kissed before he moved to sit on his throne, kicking his legs up on the side and admiring the bones around him. I was appreciative he left – I could hardly stand how on edge my nerves were to be so near.

  “Pledges are mere words, beloved. I need you to show me that you wish to fulfill your duties as the Warden before all else.”

  “By destroying Zaar?”

  “Yes and no. You see, part of what makes our coven formidable is our connection to those we are bound to. With James being sent to Evya and Raven keeping occupation over Diam, who would be there to assist you? Surely you understand why I must remain in our home.”

  I was still puzzled by his words. Though I could have said Sendrys and her demonic children or Guinevere, I knew those were not the correct answers. We may have been bound by our duties, but we lacked the bond in which my Master was referring to. No, he meant something far more awful than I imagined.

  “Being sired by Lilith is unlike your connection to me, as my Mother lacks a soul. So far, none of our second-generation coven members have moved on to create a third. We have never experimented with having a demon bound to a Master and their own demonic children.”

  “What are you saying?” I asked, unable to hide the slight distress in my tone. He noticed, but it did not change his aloof attitude about the whole situation. Sitting up straight and yawning, he pointed toward the northeastern tower, yet I still did not understand.

  “I am saying, sweet Lazarus, that you must have a higher demon present to assist you. As there are none you are bonded to beyond us, we must create another.” He paused and chuckled, amused by his own words. “Rather… you must create your first.”

  Even though I did not fear the Void, nor was there any good left in me to sacrifice, I still never wanted to endure the Dark Sacrament again. I had only just recovered and learned to harness demonic power. I regarded my Master highly because I considered him to be my teacher. How could I effectively instruct another on things I hardly understood myself?

  “If I am bound to all, it devalues our bond,” I replied, crossing my arms across my chest to comfort myself. Vince was pleased with my reaction, likely thinking that I could not stand the idea to be with anyone besides him. In actuality, I was thinking about how I might handle double the emotions I currently felt, for someone that was not Vince. He was the closest I could get to my companion from paradise; I did not wish to practice any more rituals dealing in deep connections of the heart. I was already at my wit's end with him as it was – the last thing I needed was to add another person to the madness in my mind.

  “Nobody will replace you as my Queen, beloved,” he reassured me, though it did little for my anxiety.

  “Will I get to pick?”

  “Who would you choose?”

  “Typhlon,” I said after careful contemplation. He was a fiercely loyal ally to the crown. He treated me with respect during my trials. I could not think of anyone besides him that would be more fitting to serve at my side.

  My Master nodded and drummed his fingers on his throne. I almost thought he was considering it, but even early on I knew that he always had his own answer and would never take another’s suggestion. He had back up plans in place for his back up plans. My attempts to play Queen and his lover had failed in that regard.

  “Typhlon… I am sure he would make a daunting demon, and a passionate lover,” Vince said with a hint of amusement when I winced from his words. I had not thought about him in that way. “But no. Your demonic child has already been chosen.”

  I was weak in the knees before he told me who it was. Lord Nakarius’ presence could not overcome the dread I felt in my being to think about going through the ritual again. Even if I was a master in the scenario, it was still dreadful. I had to focus on the sacred reward that I would receive as long as I followed through with what Naazvaba wished. It would not matter whether I was bound to one person or a million, I only had to achieve their goals so I could have my dreams.

  “Who then?”

  “Varnoc Stonebreaker,” my Master replied simply, watching for any signs of anguish. It was felt, but I fought displaying it physically as much as I could. His answer was an obvious one – one I should not have needed to guess. I believe he planned on us being bound when he pulled us both from the arena in the Everglade. His schemes usually were in motion far before it ever started. Perhaps Varnoc had been placed there for the sake of one day crossing my path. Vince never left any detail to chance.

  I could not respond how I wished as I thought about each and every way I could kill Varnoc to prevent it from happening. It was not that I detested him. In fact, I had grown used to his presence, though it was mostly spent in silence. He was not talkative and preferred to read like my demonic brothers, making it relatively easy to forget he was there. I understood his behavior, though. Whether he had been sent to the Everglade
as a prisoner or if he was born there, it would have made him appreciate our luxuries immensely. It did not matter, however. I was willing to kill any that forced me to endure more trauma, regardless of being willing to tolerate him previously.

  “Is that going to be a problem?”

  I looked back up at Vince, startled from my thoughts. He was clearly enthused by my need to think on his words as if I could possibly refuse. Maybe I could have, but not without risking my carefully constructed persona.

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “No, Master. It won’t be a problem.”

  “Good,” he replied with a pleased smile. “Now, off with you. I have much to do.”

  By much to do, he meant torturing his sister. I almost shuddered at the thought, but I was happy to be leaving with his blessing. Though I walked calmly, part of me wished to run all the way back to my bedroom. I could not rest near Varnoc knowing what I was about to be forced through. I wanted to be alone, yet all of my favorite places to be put me near my family. Unsure of where I could go within the palace, I made my way toward the training yards.

  The only occupants of the square – mostly captains from the Everglade seeking some sort of respite from the dreary moor – were loitering and few in number. When they saw me, they immediately stood up straight and appeared uncomfortable to be near. It must have been strange for them to see the old arena champion and blacksmith as Warden of Duskwraith. That title made me impervious to any of their hidden rage and covets. Neither Varnoc nor I won the fight, therefore nobody made money that gambled on it. I am sure there are many that would have liked to kill us for their loss of funds, but all knew that it was futile. There was not one mortal I feared, nor was there one I would be kind enough to spare.