Damned

by K R Leikvoll

  “Kill me then!” Vince finally came apart at the seams. “Slay me and bathe in my blood! Anything… anything is better than spending another fucking moment in your presence!”

  He twisted and fought me when I bit into his shoulder. Obviously, I was not going to kill him. Perhaps I was stronger than him now, but we were both feeble to the bond. I needed a bit longer. Besides, he required a lesson on pain and I was more than happy to oblige. I felt his fingernails scraping my scalp, trying to remove my hold, but he was pathetically weak against my attack. It pleased me to the highest degree to finally have what I wanted. I almost did not know how to continue after bleeding him into unconsciousness.

  I tucked him back into my arms easily as he had grown completely limp. His lips were tinted nearly blue, yet I had a difficult time worrying about him dying. He was resilient when it came to staving off death. It was the only thing he was good at. “We will be together forever,” I cooed against his forehead, holding onto him as if he might disappear. “In this world and the next.”

  “If only you hadn’t tried to control me,” I continued, staring at his beautiful, unconscious face. “I wish, somehow, I could keep you in my life and remain sane, but you don’t want that, do you? You don’t want to treat me as an equal – I was to always be your lesser, placed below you forever. You thought you could lie in an attempt to trap me and distract me from my full potential. Well, those days are over, beloved. I am more. I always was more.”

  “And now, you are at my mercy and the grace of Naazvaba! If you wished to save yourself, you should have treated me better!” My tone increased in volume as I became hysterical. “You shouldn’t have burned my home to the ground! You shouldn’t have cursed me and put me in a prison to be starved and beaten and assaulted! You shouldn’t have made me kill my lover when you didn’t have to! You shouldn’t have turned my spirit into your toy to be used when it was convenient for you! By the Gods, Vincent, I gave you my mind, body, and soul and you have given me nothing but misery! You don’t deserve to be spared!”

  I unclenched my grip on his arm that was turning his skin deep purple and wiped black tears from my eyes, loathing our mutual existence. I wanted to die with him, right there at that moment in his bed, lying with him in my arms. Why did it have to be this way? Why did I have to be chained to him? Why was it so hard to let go and force our hearts to stop so we could seek oblivion together? I did not want to think of him anymore. I did not want to think of anything anymore.

  Forever, the gifts I am given are bittersweet.

  We were locked in a stalemate for years.

  James and the Nephilim never returned, no matter how many days passed like sand through the cracks of my fingers.

  The living never showed, awaiting the fiery end together in silence.

  Vincent grew sicker, unceasingly.

  It was obvious that the Nephilim was sapping his power. According to the rules of what Praetisians knew of reincarnation, he should have died immediately once he conceived her. As he didn’t – he lived an insufferable amount of time longer – he failed that aspect of the spell. He was going to Treachery and there was nothing he could do to stop it. It became my full-time task to care for him. Holly could have been commanded to, but I wanted the role.

  When I first returned home from searching for the Nephilim, he was still fully mobile and capable of putting up useless fights. It did not take too long for him to wither into spending most of his time in bed. Regardless, he still spent every day working on formulas that never seemed to end. I expect it had something to do with traveling to Earth, but he could not figure it out. The sicker he became, the further that safety from death drifted from him.

  There were periods over the two decades I cared for him we would not speak. Sometimes I forgot the sound of his voice, as he chose silence as his act of defiance. Other times, he would scream. He would vent his frustrations to me: how much he despised me, how much he despised Raven and James, how he raised nothing but an ungrateful coven.

  How he would await me in the Void and somehow, someway, he would obliterate my soul…

  I dealt with those words without feeding into him. I merely smiled when he was overwhelmed with his malicious emotional fits. He loathed being near me – even touching me – but I did not mind. Naturally, I missed our intimacy, but keeping him trapped in his room like a prison cell brought me greater satisfaction.

  In more recent times, he started to have violent nightmares where he would awaken calling out for his child until he finally came back to his senses. More frequently than not, they would turn into seizures where all I could do was hold him until it passed. Out of every name he muttered in those moments, mine never crossed his lips. He might have mentioned Raven a couple of occasions, but Raven had shunned him long ago. We hardly saw each other once I started spending all the hours of my day beside our dying Master.

  My little fantasy life of nursing my precious beloved during his time of dying could not continue forever. He was bound to pass and I was bound to kill him. At some point, I had truly accepted it. I had been fighting and fighting since it was revealed to be my fate, but I knew deep within my soul that I was the only one worthy of the privilege of ending him. Every second mattered to me, regardless of how he felt in return.

  A few years ago, he began to fall into comas. They lasted for several months at a time, but his heart continuously kept beating despite the odds. My love… he had fully begun to wilt. His gray skin was paper-thin. He usually lacked fingernails and toenails. His structure was that of a skeleton, somehow clinging to its mortal flesh as determined as possible. It looked like his skin was stretched tightly over his protruding cheekbones and sunken eyes. He appeared nothing like the man he once was toward the end of his life. I am sure the most agonizing part of it all was that it struck at his vanity. He would have never wanted anyone to lay their eyes on him while he looked so pitiful and weak. It was ironically just; I got to see him at his worst the same as he saw me to mine.

  The moment the Void’s will began to creep on me, I was distressed. It had not mattered how long I prepped myself for my task, I would never be ready. I was being called home subtly rather than being forced – likely because it was becoming increasingly difficult to pull power from the Void while it was on lockdown. Every bloody cough, every midnight fever, every time I thought Vincent would not awaken was a sign that I needed to convene with my Gods.

  Though I am ashamed to admit it, I resisted going. It would have been easy to travel there in my sleep or meditation, but I did not want to. Slowly, I felt my “paradise” evaporate to nothingness. I could have whatever I wanted as a reward for my deeds, and yet, I found I didn’t want anything at all. I wanted to simulate death with my beloved – I wanted to remain connected to his wicked soul, even if it was agonizing to be apart. That foolish side of me that wanted to create another version of him was wrong; she was an idealist. I did not have to make a copy of him to be fulfilled. I was content to keep him as he was – the individual that wanted nothing more than to escape me. He tried to clip my wings, but my feathers returned and I rose above him. With him in my grasp, I was never that unwise. The only way to contain him was to sever his. He could never fly away.

  We could not fight Naazvaba’s will forever, though.

  It was not long ago that I was cradling my beloved’s head in my lap and humming lost hymns. I kept him clean during his endless comas – he had just had a bath and I was patting the moisture from his hair. It had grown out quite a bit and I kept it tame as I rather liked it that way. I bit into my wrist and pressed it to his mouth. Despite his unconsciousness, he still took blood from me daily. It was the only thing protecting him from the agony of dying. Sometimes it was as if he were dead with how shallow he breathed and how little he moved. I could not force myself to let him go, and he probably would have if I had ceased my charity. Taking care of him is what I lived for.

  With plenty of warning, the torches and fire blew out with a gust of wind. It
knocked the heavy balcony doors open with the force. I knew what was about to happen, but I continued humming, focused on Vince while he slept so far into nothingness. Black blocked out the planet and starlight next, snuffing out the red overcast in the room. I clutched him close to my chest and buried my face in his hair. I wanted to remember his smell forever.

  “Prophet.” The voice was guttural and demanding – Lord Valorius.

  I closed my eyes. And so, the end was the end. I could not pause time. I could not fight my fate… but I still wanted a little longer.

  “We seek an audience.” The second voice was that of Lord Azmordius – higher and piercing.

  A chill filled Vince’s bedroom, colder than death. It was so frigid, my bones ached underneath my skin. I pressed my lips to the top of his head. I was hoping he would be awake for his end. It felt wrong to kill him while he was unable to say goodbye.

  “Erzu kalimor,” the crackling whisper of Lord Baelarius’ voice shattered the temporary silence. It meant, “posthaste” in the demonic tongue. It was an order I could not disobey.

  I pulled Vince from my embrace and it was torturous to do – like willingly removing a limb or peeling off my skin. I tucked him beneath his blankets and carressed his cheeks, quite possibly for the last time. The kiss I left him with was my last attempt to rouse him. It did not work, for he would never wake on my terms.

  “If I must leave you now, please don’t forget,” I whispered to him. “Remember what you did to us. Remember everything. I will see you on the other side.”

  I left him to find my kin. We would hear their declaration together.

  Guinevere and Raven were in the library; they were all that remained. It struck me as odd to see the golden-haired demon in the library, but she had nothing to fear. Vince was not out and about so she had more freedom in the palace than ever before. She was writing – it was clear to me she wished to vent her final thoughts on Praetis, just as I am doing now.

  Raven, on the other hand, was deep in his reading. The contents I knew he had read before, but he was most likely intending on destroying a lot of it. It wasn’t because we were worried about anyone using the information. It was more of an act of respect to those sacred texts. It was better for those that had benefited from the knowledge to destroy them instead of any other end.

  “Lazarus,” he breathed.

  He put his book down and hurried to kneel at my feet. Guinevere was slower, and it was obvious she knew why I was there. Her face was downcast and serious, but she did not weep or act weak as she had in front of Vincent. She gradually made it to her knees, careful not to pull on her gown. It was black – unlike her normal colors. They both kissed my inner wrist and waited to hear the words stuck in my throat. I cursed in pure hatred of my existence before I finally had the strength.

  “Naazvaba requires an audience. It’s time.”

  They both stood, digesting what I was there to say. They had solemn expressions, and I did not blame them for that either. No matter how loyal they were, the transition into the Void while they either served our Gods or awaited rebirth in another realm was nerve wracking and uncomfortable, to say the least. It involved all of us dying physically before the planet was demolished by Nakarius’ fury, and dying was never a pleasant process. Nonetheless, we still joined hands in a circle; they both held me firmer than I held them in return.

  “Rejoice, Lazarus. You did what Vince could not,” Guinevere said in the most reassuring voice she could.

  “I always knew you were the herald of chaos, my Queen. You surpassed any and all expectations,” Raven added, grasping my hand tighter. It was not true, but at least he tried to make me feel better.

  Together, we began the chants and incantations needed to take us to the Void.

  The portal was ready to open at a moment’s notice, despite how guarded the pathway felt. We were all rather sapped by the time we materialized in Limbo; entering the Void had taken more energy than normal. Once my surroundings became clear, it was apparent why.

  Everything had begun the fall into disorder. There were more souls than I could keep track of, surrounding us and fading into the mists. The electrical currents in the sky shocked parts of the ground with enough force to rock us nearly into the abyss. I knew without a single doubt that if Limbo was out of sorts, the rest of the Void was sure to follow. Soon, the King would return to his home in Treachery and we would have to be as defensive as possible.

  Another triangular, crimson portal opened to allow us access to the gate before Treachery, and we all hesitated. Raven tried to look sure of himself, but he still had his brows furrowed seriously. Guinevere was more neutral, with her mouth pressed into a hard line across her face. I was benumbed. I gave them a brief, painful nod of approval and led the way toward Lord Baelarius’ domain.

  Unlike the times before, Lord Azmordius and Lord Valorius were already awaiting us by the titan-sized vortex of flame. Fire and green smoke billowed from Lord Azmordius’ body, almost covering her completely. Lord Valorius was surrounded by violet shadows like he was sitting in the midst of a miniature nebula. Both had their own gravitational pull, drawing us up the giant staircase to kneel before their might.

  When we reached the top, Guinevere let out a gasp and released me. In between our Gods stood Sendrys and her demonic children, Fevith and Devith. All three were renewed with violently gleeful expressions undeterred by the given situation. They wore the dark robes of the heretics in Dys, covered in the bloodstains of the damned moreover.

  I thought it would have been better to wait, but Guinevere rushed to Sendrys and pulled her into an embrace. Her sister laughed at her mortal longing and held her for a moment before gently pushing her away. Personally, I was relieved to see them in better shape than they were when they initially departed. Fevith and Devith were joined at the hip as I expected them to be.

  “Coven of Praetis,” Lord Valorius began, drawing our attention back to them. “You have aided the Grand Prophet in her task of ruining Praetis and rooting out the traitors that would undermine us.”

  “My children,” Lord Azmordius cooed uncharacteristically. “Your work is almost complete. Another planet will join our legion and we will be one step closer to conquering the cosmos.”

  “We still don’t know where the Nephilim is,” I said, fearless of the possible consequences. It fell on Lord Nakarius and we had never found satisfying answers.

  “Lord Baelarius has foreseen this,” Lord Valorius uttered before letting out a strange, clicking laugh. “Where Lord Nakarius has failed, we will fix your mistakes.”

  “She dwells upon Earth, prophet,” Lord Azmordius said, bypassing Lord Valorius’ attempt to be malicious. “The Earthen coven will have a chance to seize her before she can damage the Void. You must remain here to guard Lord Baelarius while I destroy the planet. All of you must.”

  “Lord Azmordius,” Raven muttered respectfully before being allowed to speak. “How will the Void maintain its power with only Lord Baelarius to pull from?”

  “The traitor,” Lord Azmordius replied simply, turning back to me. Though she had no visible eyes, I could feel her stare shredding me in half.

  “The incarnate so near the gateway to Azotl will generate more energy than the first five layers combined. He is a feeble, yet limitless source of power. We require him here, now, prophet,” Lord Valorius finished for Lord Azmordius.

  “He is about to die,” I replied steadily. “He could arrive before we leave if we stay long enough.”

  “No,” Lord Valorius snapped. “Before his last breath, you must annihilate him. We would not want to risk having a traitor in Dys or otherwise, would we?”

  “Yes, Lord Valorius.” I bowed my head. Even deep in the Void, emotions pulled on me. I had a long time to work up the courage I needed to accomplish my final task, so why was it so hard to summon the will? I despised Vince! I fantasized about seeing him dead! Where was the demonic fury that normally coursed through my veins?

  “Raven
, Guinevere,” Lord Azmordius said, turning her attention to my kin. “Fail us not. The prophet requires absolute loyalty – do all that she bids, for now is the final test. When Praetis is eradicated, you will find your homes in the Void. The heretics need an accountable leader and the succubi need their mistress.”

  “What of my child?” Guinevere asked her God with as much confidence as she could muster. “He is sick and blind of reason; can my actions not grant him amnesty?”

  “No amnesty will be given to traitors.” Azmordius’ booming voice grew cold.

  “Then allow me to sacrifice my place in Lust. Let him take it,” she said intrepidly. “Anything for him. Please.”

  “How touching,” Lord Valorius said, his cosmic aura grew greater, fatiguing all of us that stood near. “Perhaps Vincent was not incorrect about your lack of intelligence. No amnesty will be given to traitors. If we must speak of this again, you will dwell in suffering with him.”

  She was enduring much of the same pain I was. I felt a kinship toward her – it was brave to request that she be sent to Treachery rather than Maundrell. I wished to tell her that he was not worth it. He was just as disgustingly polluted by the light as Vincent. Though both of them would deny it, Maundrell and my Master were not so different. Maundrell was more selfless, but that is what made him inferior to Vince. In any case, they both equally deserved their fate no matter how much we – their unrequited lovers – tried to help them avoid it.

  Before we left, I was instructed thoroughly about the binding spell to summon Lord Nakarius. It was imperative that I killed myself – nobody else had corrupt enough blood to complete the spell needed, thus I was truly the only one worthy to end my own life. Once I gave up my mortal body to Nakarius, I would be transferred to that gateway between Fraud and Treachery forevermore.

  “Congratulations on your selfless service, Lazarus,” Lord Azmordius said as we were about to depart. “The Praetisians will know peace, serenity and total servitude under your guidance. You have saved them from the light, and though they cannot thank you themselves, they owe you everything. Know the deeds you have done have been witnessed by Azotl itself.”