Damned

by K R Leikvoll

  It was a good opportunity to show returned thanks to Naazvaba and celebrate, but I did not wish to. Knowing what awaited me outside the Void did not put me in a triumphal mood in the slightest. The piercing screams in the distance sounded like they were coming from my mind and not the millions of souls undergoing their routine torture.

  Behind Lord Azmordius and Lord Valorius, the crimson of my eternal home gleamed with electricity and bloody light. The inside of it was a warped storm of chaos, just the same as all that surrounded me. Since my first encounter with it, I have been plagued about what truly lies inside. If the false version of my Master was not ideal, nor was oblivion, what was waiting patiently for me to experience it? Was it an existence I am incapable of comprehending in this mortal plane? Yes… I believe that I will not know the answers I seek until the day I give up my body to Naazvaba.

  I left the last fragmented shard of humanity I had behind in the Void. There was no place for it on Praetis. If I wished to finally bring an end to the King of Treachery and the focus of my immortal existence, I could not allow myself to feel.

  I do not wish to love anymore.

  I do not want pity or sympathy for my fate.

  I want nothing good.

  Give me your hatred instead, and I will spin it into a web of beauty…

  Waiting to catch you in the Void, where you belong.

  The day started like most.

  I awoke in my bed – the first time I had slept beside Raven in over a decade. We had fallen asleep holding each other like the world might crumble while we dreamt. The normal crimson overcast blocking out the lavender skies flooded my chambers. Praetis still lived and breathed despite us wishing it would end before I had to do the unspeakable.

  I knew I needed to leave, but clinging to Raven felt like all I was capable of. Still, time dragged onward and I could not stay any longer.

  Vincent was awake – it was enough to make me let out a dry sob that awakened my companion. It was the first time he had been out of bed in a decade or more. I could see him changing through the walls, and it confused me. Did he intend to run? No… he knew he could not escape.

  One, two, three minutes spent rummaging through my clothes.

  I knew that it did not matter what I wore, and yet, it was imperative that I found something suiting. Every moment spent sifting through robes and gowns was a moment I was not harming Vince. When I settled, it was the set of black and gold robes I wore the very first night I spent as a member of the Duskwraith coven. So long ago had I arrived as Nyzara, deeply in love with my Master and swooned by the demonic lifestyle. She had wanted to please him – to be all he wanted. How naïve she was…

  Raven took a brush to my braids, as I am sure he needed something to distract his mind. Though I would be the one delivering the final blow, Raven would feel the same awful torture as I would. It was like he was patiently waiting for me to cut him with War. The only sign that he was having any fears was in his hands, trembling slightly. He moved quickly, thinking I would not notice, but it was useless to try and fight what we were both feeling.

  “Do you want me to accompany you?” he whispered in my ear, holding me tightly. “We should be doing this together.”

  I was drilling a hole into nothingness – distracted by the emptiness and dread ripping me inside out. Everything felt so vivid: the fabric against my skin, the touch of a breeze jostling my hair, the glittering reflections of the light on the gemstones adorning my furniture. Who would wish to die on such a beautiful day?

  “No.”

  “At least let us perform the ritual of debinding.”

  “No.”

  “Lazarus, you saw what happened to Devith. We cannot risk you losing your power so near to the end.”

  “I said no.”

  “Are you to make Varnoc’s punishment for nothing? Think clearly! He paid the price to spare you pain.”

  “And it was wrong,” I stated, finally having the strength to make eye contact. “Am I remorseful my child was cursed for nothing? Yes, but this suffering is mine alone to bear. It always has been.”

  “What about me, then?” Raven asked. He had held in his personal desires as much as he could for so long. “Do I deserve this pain? I have done nothing but what you have asked of me.”

  I stood and grabbed him by the arms.

  “Of course not, my love,” I whispered back. “You deserve nothing short of the highest honor for your sacrifices. But Vincent… he’s mine. The only audience I require is that of the Gods. Let our pain guide this planet to its end.”

  “I trust you, Lazarus,” he replied sharply, drawing himself away. “Far more than you have ever trusted me.”

  It stung. I trusted him with my life.

  It mattered not, for he stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

  What should I do?

  Was I supposed to sneak quietly into Vince’s chambers and plunge a dagger through his back? Was it less painful to smother him? Would I feel the exact same sensations as he died? Did it matter if it was fast? I wanted to get it over with – like removing an arrow. He was so sick and miserable, it should have been a simple task to rationalize my actions, but it did not change a thing.

  I have concluded that it would have been less painful for him to die on his own, but it was my act of killing him that the Void needed. There was no King dwelling in the nine layers that could compare to him. All of the royalty I slaughtered during my times of war were specks in comparison to the power Vincent could provide. If he was trustworthy, I am positive Naazvaba would have kept him around for the destruction of every planet in our universe. If he would not serve willingly, he would serve as a conduit.

  I spent too much time deciding on how I would do it. In the end, it was the onyx blade that we used for the Dark Sacrament that found its way into my hands. Vince had left our tower – he was in the throne room. I took the dagger from where it was stashed underneath his bed. His room was a mess. It had not been tended to by anyone in a while, as I did not mind the number of wine bottles that had accumulated over the course of being his caretaker. I dug through broken glass to reach it and I did not wince once.

  The numbness was more than overwhelming. It had become my permanent state of being. I shook as I wrapped my grasp firmly around the hilt of the blade, pulling it from a crystalline sheath. It was just as beautiful and horrible as every time before: when I killed Ophelia and feared for my secrets, when I was forced to bind myself to the worm, when I slit Illyswen’s throat while he begged for a condonation. All of those occasions came at the hand of Vincent.

  Or did they come from mine?

  Had Vince truly forced me to do anything?

  I was so desperate for his love and affections, I was willing to hurt people. I could have died in the Everglade and spared not only myself but the entire population. You see, that is what loving poison does to you. You are aware that it’s harmful. You know it’s gradually infecting your mind and your heart… but you don’t care.

  The gratification… the sweet bliss gained from drinking his toxins… it is better than any ordinary feeling gained from mundane life. He sweeps you to a cloud so high, you cannot see the ground. You are uprooted, forced into the skyline, and the distance does not make you weep. This love… this hate… it does not last forever.

  You plunge toward the earth with naught a thing to catch yourself. Your arms swipe at the air, desperate for your wings to return you to that cloud of gratifying seclusion. Just as you might splatter the dirt with your desires, he is there again – that poison. He is reaching out for your hand, knowing full well he will attempt to drop you once more.

  It’s a sick game. Up you climb. Down you fall. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

  Do you learn or do you clutch his poison to your lips fondly, just for a taste of the cosmos?

  Each step of the staircase was harder than trudging through the moor of Wrath. I felt so faint, I thought I might lose my balance, tumble down and break my neck. It would have been
a mercy in comparison to what I was set to face. I was not blessed with that sort of thrilling irony. No… my existence has always been laid out for me since the beginning and it was foolish to wish for my death, knowing it would come by my hand after Vincent was dealt with.

  The castle was silent as if the only people in the universe were me and my Master. There was always a sense of trepidation about opening the throne room doors. Despite living in the palace for quite some time, I never knew what was going to await me on the other side. Though Vince had become sick to the degree that his aura was nothing more than a small speckle through the stone, it was a spot that told me he had not wandered in there to commit suicide.

  It seemed like the sort of thing he would do – removing my only chance to have full closure – but deep down, I knew he didn’t have the strength. For there was nobody Vincent loved more than Vincent, and he would never kill the person he loved most.

  Gently, I pushed the door open and walked willingly into my worst nightmare.

  Vince was waiting for me inside, patiently.

  He had a wine bottle in his hand, naturally. He hadn’t had a drink in almost twenty years so I was willing to bet that he was rather intoxicated. His expression was neutral, staring down at me from his throne forever away. I let the doors shut behind me, frozen in place with the dagger stashed out of sight in my hand behind my back. No enemy I faced could ever compare.

  Vince’s presence compelled me to weep. It begged me to toss the dagger and run to his side, loyal once more. No. I could not fail my Gods. This was my final test. I needed to prove myself. If I could complete this task, I would have done more than any other Void Lord! I could ascend. Perhaps he would not exist in my mind once I evolved. It was my last hope.

  “There is no need to hide that blade, beloved,” his voice echoed through the hall. “We both know why you are here, so don’t insult me by trying to pretend otherwise.”

  I broke inside.

  “You did this to yourself,” I whispered, uncaring whether or not he heard me.

  “Yes,” he muttered and smiled, tipping his wine bottle toward me. “But surely you did not come here just to say that.”

  He was forcing me to come closer with his words. He was focused and poised – unlike he had been in a coma for the last year or more. It wasn’t fair! I should have been the one to remain calm and ominous. Even in death, he was trying to surpass me.

  “I wanted to give you one more chance to repent,” I told him. Each word felt agonizing to utter. I had to watch Asinea through the window for a moment, as I thought it would be the death of me to stare him in the eyes. “Dys is not like Treachery. You could be spared in the Void… if you confess.”

  “Confess to what?” he snarled. “Confess to doing what Naazvaba asked of me?”

  I was surprised he had the strength, but he slowly began to make his way down the staircase of his throne. I wanted to cringe away and hide. I wanted to be as far away from him as possible. Yet, every confident step brought him closer to me.

  “Confess to deceiving the most powerful entities existing in this realm? Confess to creating the most formidable weapon imaginable? I confess to greatness, Lazarus! Tell me you have not dreamed of the Nephilim’s uses! To rule the universe, darling! Can you imagine? We could have done it together, me and you. But… you were nothing like I expected you to be.”

  “No more,” I muttered, feeling as though I might be sick as he grew near enough to touch me. He chuckled – in his vast weakness and patheticness – he dared to chuckle.

  “You disappoint me! I tried without end to teach you and you spat on every lesson. You are vile and awful, beloved! How have you not looked in the mirror and glimpsed at the wickedness lurking within you?”

  “You taught me to be this way!” I shrieked. “You did all of this! I was not cold before I met you!”

  “Oh, please, Lazarus, save it. Whether I was there or not, you were bound to become a monster. My presence was your only chance at redemption and you know it!”

  Immediately, I gaped. I could not rationalize the words of his madness! I played over every encounter we had in my head. Was he truly the incarnate of Azotl? How could the very spawn of the energy I drew upon come from a being hellbent on deceiving himself?

  His hands gripped the edge of my robes and he pulled me so close I thought he might kiss me. The dark shade of his corneas was like smoke, swirling and dancing to a tune I could not hear. His bloody, crimson irises were determined, boring into my soul. My body shuddered so violently I thought I might lose my ability to hold my dagger.

  “You’re wrong,” I replied, horrified. “You’re wrong. You’re wrong!”

  “Am I?” he whispered tenderly, brushing his nose against mine. I could smell the wine on his breath. “Tell me that you never thought of A’roha bursting into flames! Tell me how pleased and satisfied you were with being a priestess! Face it, I brought out what you really wanted inside –

  “All of those hidden desires, I saw them. You invaded my dreams with your perverse wishes for Praetis, and you thought I would not come for you? You did not love this world, so why pretend that it was all my fault? Remember when I told you to burn everything that crossed your path? Has it never occured to you that I tried to misdirect your awful intentions? Do you really think that I just kidnapped you from your home to play games? I did what needed to be done to spare the life of some since it would be them or no one!

  “I do not regret my choices. Touching you has been disgusting. Every aspect of our relationship has repulsed me. I would rather take a blade to the heart than ever swallow your unholy blood again.”

  “Then you shall get your wish!” I declared furiously, brandishing the blade to destroy him. I froze before the tip could brush the front of his black robes. There was a titanic magnetism trying to force my hands away.

  “How hopeless you are!” Vince exclaimed, gesturing to the dagger. The first tears of madness slipped from my eyes. “To think I was going to offer you a way out.”

  “A way out?” I asked, exasperated beyond belief. I had to gasp to catch my breath.

  “We could have gone to Earth, beloved,” he muttered, softly pushing his lips to mine momentarily. It was an act to show how little he feared me – as if I were nothing. “We could’ve run away and been together eternally.”

  A daring statement, as if he did not call me repulsive a moment before.

  It hung in the air, begging me to accept his proposition. Another worthless attempt at manipulating me! I could never escape Lord Nakarius in my soul, and both of us knew that. He wanted me to betray all I held dear and there was nothing but utter torture awaiting me if I did something as foolish as that. Any moment I gave him of power over me would be catastrophic. This war of will he was winning. I wanted to hold him. I wanted to kiss him and plead him to take me somewhere far away where we could be free of these constraints. Alas, what use was there in doing anything but what I was prophesied to do?

  “You’re lying!” My voice bounced off the stone louder than I uttered.

  “You know me too well,” he murmured. “This hatred was too strong to suppress forever.”

  He brushed my chin and forced me to look up at him, as my gaze had dropped to the floor. His malicious soul was present, but not as present as the emotion of consent. I could see it – he wanted me to kill him. He was incapable of expressing it verbally, but he wanted it. He was beseeching me to end his pain in silence. It was against his nature to simply ask.

  A deep breath.

  I took my step to the edge of the abyss.

  Everything was red – a mist covering us like earthbound clouds.

  One of my hands, though I did not recognize it as mine, brushed his cheek. My toes clenched. My jaw tightened. My heartbeat pounded in my ears. The only heat was coming off my body as everything had grown as frigid as Treachery. All of the light that ever existed was absent, for it had never truly been. Pain… we had always been synonymous. I was never meant fo
r anything good.

  This was my chance:

  To ascend to the realm of the Gods.

  To release myself from these chains.

  To become who I was meant to be.

  My darling, the safest place for you has always been in my mind. Nobody can harm us there… not even you.

  The sharpened onyx pierced his chest as it pierced mine.

  The pain was unimaginable, but still, I pushed further. The blade slipped between the bones of his rib cage. He held me tighter. I hated him. His nails pulled at my flesh. I loved him.

  I felt it when the dagger brushed his heart – our heart.

  Our last contemporaneous climax.

  His eyes grew distant and we fell into each other’s arms.

  “I thought it was you, you know,” he groaned, breathing hard through the torment of our wound. “I thought being the prophet was the trick – that your light wouldn’t be corrupted in the process… and that you would emerge as the Nephilim.”

  Black tears flowed as easily down my cheeks as rain cascaded from the heavens; filled up to the brink beyond being interrupted.

  “You were wrong, beloved,” I whispered. I wanted to remove the blade for the mere chance to relieve myself, but I could not before it was complete. The hilt was so tight in my hand it was bruising. It was nothing compared to the pain. Nothing was.

  “I was wrong.” He nodded in agreement, shuddering from the onset of blood loss. “But I never leave anything to chance. I couldn’t prevent you from becoming a monster, just as I could not prevent your blade –”

  “You prevented nothing.”

  I felt a movement that might have been laughter, based on the small smile on his face.

  “Darling, you initialized your own demise. Yes, I will fall – perhaps even Praetis will fall. But don’t be mistaken; Val will come for you. She will root you out in the deepest layers of the Void and destroy anything linking our plane to the Vast Dark… and I will be there to watch her impale your black heart.”