by K R Leikvoll
“How do we do it?”
Raven grinned wider, pleased that I was in agreement with his dark desires.
“Let me show you.”
Typhlon and Varnoc were somewhat upset with my decision for different reasons. My demonic child was aghast that I would deny them an honorable death, but he was unused to the brutal methods of demons. He had not seen the city of Dys, nor had he been involved in any of my secret meetings with Raven. It was a harsh reality he needed to accept if he wished to remain by my side.
Typhlon, on the other hand, was against it because of how ignorant he was of the Void. It was not his fault. It is hard for mortals to understand the Vast Dark and true sacrifice. Thankfully, he would come to see that new demonic allies were the best fighting force imaginable. He never wavered in loyalty despite not understanding my motives.
In any case, both left ahead with our forces toward the direction of the Zaarian’s capital. A small guard was to accompany me after the deed was done; only Raven and I would see the fate of Diam. I did not mind – it was the duty of the Warden to dispense justice as it was the duty of the prophet to usher in the Void’s will. It was always expected of me to see it carried out.
The surviving population was only kept under control by fear; whether it was of Raven and me, or the monstrous undead he had created from the corpses of the fallen, I am unsure. I wore a neutral expression while Raven prepared our ritual area in the center of the burnt city. They would be separated into two groups: those that would serve and those that preferred death. I was not entirely unfeeling.
“Morein was willing to sacrifice all of you to keep his power,” I began, raising his headdress for the crowd to see. “I think there is plenty more you can do in this life than perish for his selfish means. You can serve a deserving Queen and create a new world, or you can follow Morein to the grave. It is a choice for each of you to make.”
The reaction was interesting. Some seemed panicked as if they could not consciously handle making the decision. Others knew immediately what they intended to do after the sight of the glowing demonic spell seal behind me. They split – more choosing to die than serve. It was expected; the Zaarians were a very proud race. They would not attack Uxe or Remula willingly, whether they were rebels or not. Nobody attempted to convince another of something different. Those that wished to live looked sickened as if they thought themselves weak. It was a shame they were not more excited to serve my Gods.
“So be it,” I said to the right group, gesturing to Raven behind me.
With the sounds of crunching, two massive wings formed of bone grew from his back, looking eerily identical to that of Lord Azmordius’. It was an uncomfortable sensation to channel the true nature of a Dark Essentia shard. Each one was different and unique, but all were overpowering in similar ways. In order to keep his focus, Raven took a deep breath. I am sure it was a difficult task resisting the urge to devour everyone in the burnt square.
He flourished his wings, summoning shrapnel of bone to shower those wishing to die. Even those attempting to block were not spared. Overall, the residents of Diam took their end rather peacefully. Most pillaging rebels were content with their mortality and loyalty. The toxic green magic of Pestilence twisted around Raven’s arm. When he pointed it in the direction of the fallen, the shards impaling them glowed and burst from their bodies. It created an unsightly scene for those that chose not to die. The gasps were quiet in comparison to the sobs of horror when purple magic twisted the dead’s bodies and caused them to stand. Each one rose as an undead thrall of my brother’s, with eyes glowing the same beautiful shade as his. The guardsmen staying with us hesitantly moved to unlock our new allies’ shackles.
Raven brought a basin to my side and handed me his dagger. I cut my arm deeply, watching my black blood pour into the bowl with a pace far faster than that of a mere mortal. The amount that it took to fill it would have made a lesser being weak, but I hardly noticed. It was set on a pedestal in the center of our painted ritual circle. The area had likely been used in the past for blood-based spells as it did not require much preparation.
“Accept this gracious offering as a symbol of peace,” I declared. One by one those that chose to live lined up to take a sip. “Shed your skin and awaken as a higher being… with me… for eternity.”
My words did not sit well with all of them. It was no matter; they preferred drinking the blood of demons over transforming into a thrall. I watched each and every drop consumed with intense emotion. I had not foreseen I would feel unbearably in love with every person that indulged. It was almost enough to make me collapse, but I refused. The idea I was doing spellwork far beyond what I thought I was capable of excited me.
I put my fist into the air, yelling, “Aeterne Inanis.” Raven’s hand interlocked with mine, aiding me in my demands of Heresy. Flame and shadow surrounded us both before transferring to the Zaarians gathered to the left.
They appeared confused and distressed at first. Many clutched their chests and fell over, crying in tortured agony. Their forms were beginning to change one by one. Limbs cracked and altered. It is hard to say whether they died from the demons occupying them or if they simply converted to monsters before me. Each one was unique, and the Zaarians were resilient during the change. Only a few laid dead, unable to handle the spell. Most had shed enough blood in their lives to be deemed strong enough.
After the spell was over, a small legion of demons stood before us. I was entranced, entirely infatuated with them. They may have been lesser and not bound to me through the Dark Sacrament, but I felt as though they were all my children.
Vincent could have the credit for winning the war and destroying the planet. My connection to the Infernal Army was more fulfilling to me than the glory my Master relished in. Besides, Raven was correct and is still correct today. The more the world recognized Vince as the figurehead of the chaos, the more opportunities I had to work in the shadows. I would never allow him to keep up with my plans. I would never allow him to win. He was not a god – not remotely.
He would see justice. They all would, with the Infernal Army’s aid.
One would think a group of monsters would be hard to accommodate or maintain. They were content to roam the ruins of Diam under Raven’s watchful eye. I was not worried about the Evyans or random Zaarian tribes attempting to breach the city after I left. If anyone was stupid enough to try, they would be food or worse. I selected a few of my favorites to accompany me for the assault on Uxe, naturally. They had the potential to clear out far more than Vince’s pathetic army.
I did not wish to part from Raven as I felt unsure about leading a siege against Uxe without his magic and Pestilence. The confidence I gained from summoning demons was not enough to distract me from my next target. Uxe was densely populated – significantly more so than Diam. Most of the occupants that would fall to Duskwraith would be civilians. Innocents. It was difficult to kill those fleeing rather than trying to defend themselves. It was unlike any others I had slain. It was hard to tell beforehand how I would react in that sort of situation.
Capturing Uxe was a bold task. I would argue that taking the Capitol of the Luxian Empire could not compare in difficulty. Whereas that city was greatly guarded by tall walls, Uxe was shielded between mountains with plenty of exit routes. It would be hopeful to think they would all stand and fight. That was not the case, even in a land of honorable beings. It was hard to annihilate them when they scattered like bugs. I had resolved before the takeover of Diam that I would sniff them out wherever they tried to take refuge. They made magnificent demons and terrifying undead. An entire Empire, be it starving or not, would make a grand sacrifice to the Void. It would be the most significant thing to happen on our tiny rock since Vince slaughtered the dragons.
The snow started melting the closer we neared to the territories of Uxe. Catching up to my allies was a simple task on Morgan. He navigated the rocky ground with ease, bounding over the land faster than I would have thought. He
had likely spent years before he was captured exploring the lands of Zaar and northern Evya with whatever traitorous tribe he had been a part of. I did not have to guess where my allies were or consult a map. There was a line that drew me toward the direction of those I was bound to.
Vince’s was far away, but it was strong. He was still in Duskwraith to the east of the path I was taking. The connection to him irritatingly gnawed at me whenever my mind quieted. I loathed it. I wished to be in his arms as much as I wished I was shoving a dagger down his throat. I did not understand it… I still don’t.
Raven and James were similar to each other. Though Raven was closer than our kin in Evya, their blood bonds did not pull on me in the same way as our Master. It was comfortable while close and faded with distance – easily going unnoticed aside my other bonds.
Varnoc’s was the one that I followed. It called to me in a mournful song, begging me to return. I recall how baffled I was when I paused in my thoughts that drifted to him. I so vividly wanted to remove his head, but after our binding, I missed him when he was absent. It was odd having a soul-bound connection to someone other than Vince, even after the amount of time I had to adjust.
Those that accompanied me did not speak much in the beginning. I think it was partially because they were traumatized, to put it simply. There were five that stayed behind to assist me as my guard and I had hand-selected three of the most vicious demons I had summoned from the Void. Worried and frightened, they had not dared to utter a word in my presence for most of our journey.
In fact, they had not felt the desire to speak until I had left with Morgan to hunt. The thawing weather increased our chances of finding a meal. I was a faster and better hunter than anyone else present, so it was an easy decision as to who would bring back something to eat. It took me and Morgan the span of a few hours to find a chorta; only a single arrow was needed to bring it down. I could see each of its veins and the fat heart they were connected to. It is humorous how symbolic Zaarian culture regarded the hunting of their sacred species. It bled and died like everything else, just the same.
Morgan aided me in carrying the beast near the cave my guard was taking refuge in to avoid the wind. The opening was low in the ground, somehow unfilled with dirt or too much water from the melted snow. I did not wish to rest, but it would have been impossible for those mortals to catch up to the regime without at least one night of sleep. I had forgotten what normal hunger and fatigue felt like.
I was a glutton after the assault on Diam – I was falling into a spell of bloodlust inspired by a combination of Lord Nakarius and War. There was a small, fleeting part of my consciousness that cried out in fear from what I was feeling, but it was a quiet voice in comparison to the choir taunting me to sacrifice.
Before I leapt down to the mouth of the cave, I caught the sound of whispers coming from within. It was unusual in comparison to the silence I was used to with that particular group. I held up a hand to signal Morgan to wait.
“Who ordered that?” one voice asked somewhat exasperated.
“We don’t know, but it doesn’t matter,” another began, trying to calm them, but was interrupted by the man from before.
“You damn well saw the same thing we all did. Killing your enemies is one thing –”
“Keep your voice down!”
“— turning them into monsters and desecrating their right to rest in a grave? I have never seen anything so dishonorable,” the first man finished.
“You obviously weren’t around to see the horrors of the Dryad extermination,” one of the other voices hissed.
“You aren’t hearing me! The Dryads are gone; those Zaarians still walk as something else. What if they do this to the whole Empire? What are those monsters going to eat afterward? Us?!”
“I agree with him. Isn’t it Lord Vince’s role to keep the monsters from reaching Praetis? Summoning them is the exact opposite of what that looks like!”
“Who knows?” a voice growled lowly that I hadn’t heard yet, likely the eldest of them. “Could be that bitch Evyan ‘Queen’. This isn’t Lord Vince’s methods. That battle was not like A’roha. Those two corpse-fuckers are up to something.”
I had to stifle the psychotic laugh I could not help releasing after hearing his words. Mortal guardsmen were a bother. Hunting was a waste of my time when I could have been in my demonic child’s company if I had not given them the opportunity to rest.
“You are going to get us all killed, Yugyll. I should remove your tongue for insubordination. The Warden is doing what Lord Vince demands – she is the Queen, you moronic fool! Do you think our Lord would name her these things lightly?” one of the voices from before asked in a fit of fury. “Can you imagine what she would do to you for your treasonous words? Think about the rest of your short life spent rotting in darkness in the dungeons.”
“I can come up with something better than that,” I stated after I stepped down into the entrance. They were utter buffoons, as only a fool would speak such words so brazenly knowing I was nearby. Nobody would miss them.
They were paralyzed. Three of the five – the fearful one, the one in agreement, and the old mutt – were each looking at one another in an attempt to come up with a plan. The one that had defended me was an older captain and the second in command below me in our small group. The final had been notably silent. She was holding her face as if I was going to eat her alive like Raven’s victims. I delighted in all of their emotions individually, even smiling as I watched them recoil from my presence.
I motioned for the one that had spoken ill of me. I did not care if every sentient being on Praetis or otherwise despised me. His opinion was just an excuse to release the emotions I managed to repress those days I was separated from my kin or prey.
The eldest stood and came willingly with some sort of false honor to mask his dread. He did not kneel, nor did he seem apologetic for his words. It was perfectly reasonable. I never expected him to falter in his pathetic morals.
“If you wanted to die so horribly, you could have let the rebels slay you on the battlefield,” I told him, never giving him the chance to respond. “Though I suppose I am owed some sort of payment for bringing your comrades a meal. People are starving if you were unaware. Especially me.”
I grabbed his arm and threw him from the cave with little effort. He was unable to roll into his fall, gashing his face open on the ground. After a quiet moment of him trying to gather himself, he began to yell out in distress. The group behind me was puzzled until a loud crashing pounded overhead. The sound of my demons growling in anticipation of a kill filled our shallow tunnel. The largest – a hellion with great red wings and horns bigger than a man’s leg – seized him.
The crunching of his bones caused a few of the guards to whine with worry. It irritated me that I could not absorb his death without unwanted accompaniment. At least my lesser children behaved well – they shared his blood with wicked, eager eyes.
I turned back around to face my guards, giving them a dramatic sigh. “I was hoping he would last a bit longer. Who wants to go next?”
The three others collectively shoved the exasperated man from before in my direction, despite his feet that remained glued to the stone. He almost tripped right into my grasp, catching himself on the rock wall at the last moment and peering at me with panic in his soul.
“Tell me… what do you think Lord Vince would say if he heard you questioning the highest authority?” I asked him in a matronly tone. He did not back away when I inhaled his scent as he looked incapable of doing anything beyond remaining paralyzed in fear. I could almost taste his blood through his skin.
“Warden, forgive his transgressions. We are still in awe of your magical ability and he lacks the depth to understand Lord Vince’s demands,” one of the others, the taller Zaarian that had agreed with the man before, stated to try and appease me from deeper in the cave. All I felt was anger in response.
I grabbed the man by the collar of his clothes and began
to drag him out. He fought me frantically, attempting to call back to the others and hang onto the wall for help. Having enough of it, I threw him over my shoulder into the rock. My beautiful new children were delighted to have another utensil to release their boredom on.
I allowed them to eat the third problem-starter as well in my rage, though I hardly remember it. I was unsure what to do with the woman and the one that had defended me. I should mention letting them go without punishment was never an option in my mind. I thought perhaps that killing my own would feel different – that maybe there was a shred of honor left inside of me.
I was wrong.
I was not born of Duskwraith. I had been sent there as a captive and a slave. My troubled life in the country was not one that inspired any sort of loyalty. To Vince – at one point, yes. In the beginning, before I knew him. To my lower ranking soldiers and guardsmen? I felt not a single emotion nor empathy toward their suffering. The Void did not care about borders. Azotl had no need for Empires or established societies. Why should I?
By the time I moved to the woman, she was crouched in the corner, trying to hide from the possibility of being eaten. I did not seek to give her to them – I would not consider my decision for her fate as grim as the other men. I was so lost in a spell of bloodlust and madness that I could not bring myself to stop.
“I was blessed with a divine vision,” I whispered to the woman as I crouched beside her. She seemed somewhat startled when I gently took her shaking hands into mine. She scanned the mess behind me before she could bring herself to look me in the face.
“Please, Warden.”
“It showed me something more beautiful than you could ever imagine. A place of peace – a place where violence does not exist. I saw Praetis as a home for that sort of idealism. We could all be connected and a part of something greater.” I watched both of them, hoping it would bring them the same sort of acceptance it brought me.
