The scent triggered my memory—something the Darkin had said to me when I earned the right to wield the weapon.
This weapon is forged in both fear and demonflame. Its edge will not cut you, nor will its flame burn you.
I had the weapon part, but where was the flame?
I need your flame. Like now.
You need to surrender. My flame is not for those who pretend. You must be prepared to wield its power.
Does it look like I’m playing here? He’s trying to kill me.
That is exactly what you are doing. I could have killed this old man ten times over, had I been untethered. Yet here you are exchanging blows. Surrender and free my flame.
Somehow, that sounded like an incredibly bad idea.
I will not surrender my will to you. You serve me, not the other way around.
Your choice and your death. It has been an honor.
Shit. Gryn was circling in on me, looking determined to skewer me with his blade. We really had entered survival mode, and there was no way I was going to die here. Not without rescuing Acheron first.
“Fine,” I said, looking at Gryn. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Can you feel my fear?” Gryn scoffed. “I’m nearly petrified with fright.”
Do it. We are not killing him. Just getting close. Understood?
Like you said, I serve you.
I trust you about as far as I can throw you. On your bond. Say it, demon.
I felt the internal struggle of the compulsion. Its will was strong. Mine was stronger.
On my bond, the old sorcerer will survive this encounter.
Unleash the kraken!
The Kraken is a being of the ocean. I possess no power over the ocean and its denizens. Have your faculties for thought been compromised?
My brain is fine. Release the flame!
THREE
My body became engulfed in flame.
My first reaction was to stop, drop and roll. Then I realized that while I was covered in flame, I wasn’t burning. Not even my clothes were being consumed, to my relief. Facing Gryn naked while my clothes burned to ash would’ve been awkward.
The flames burned bright orange at first, and then settled into a reddish-pink color, similar to the flames Acheron materialized when he used demonflame. I made a mental note to ask the Darkin about that later.
Right now, I had an old sorcerer to beat silly.
“Demonflame?” Gryn asked as he backed up. “That’s new. Are you getting in touch with your inner demon?”
“Why don’t you let me reach out and touch you, old man?”
I closed the distance.
“Do you even know how to control the flames?” Gryn asked as he parried my first thrust. “It’s not a fashion statement, you know. The flames actually serve a purpose.”
“I know,” I said, extending a hand. “Charbroiling you, for starters.”
Nothing happened.
I stood there waiting for a blast of flame to launch out at him. I just looked like a demonic traffic officer ordering him to stop with my arm outstretched. It was a fatal error and gave him plenty of openings.
By the time I realized this, it was too late.
Gryn whirled under my arm and swiped upward with his sword in a move designed to remove it. The sword slammed into my arm and lifted me off my feet.
Amazingly, my arm remained attached to the rest of me.
I looked down, surprised at the fact that my arm was still part of my body. Gryn rotated his body and unleashed a vicious sidekick into my side. I flew across the floor and landed with a crash.
I laid immobile for a few seconds.
“Still alive?” he called out from the other side of the floor. “Are you ready to quit now?”
I remained silent.
The fact that he wasn’t rushing at me spoke volumes. He could move me around, but he couldn’t actually hurt me. At least that’s what it seemed like. The flames and scales stopped his blade, and his kick was a blunt impact, but it didn’t actually hurt. It was more like a dull pressure across my side.
I felt pretty tanky, but the problem was getting close enough to him to inflict damage. He wasn’t going to just stand there and let me hit him. If I could fling fireballs, that would make life much easier.
Let me hurt him, the Darkin said.
Hurt him, yes. Kill him, no.
I leapt to my feet and moved. I want to say I ran, but it was faster than that. It wasn’t quite teleporting, but I closed the distance faster than I anticipated. More importantly, it was faster than Gryn anticipated.
One moment I was across the floor, the next we were face to face. He recovered faster than I expected and slashed at my neck. I raised an arm and blocked his blade with my forearm. His other hand had formed a black orb covered with crackling red energy.
An obliterator on steroids.
I moved fast.
I drove a fist into his stomach, causing him to double over and fall back. He collapsed into a backwards roll and unleashed the orb. I threw the remaining half of the chakram at it and regretted it instantly. My weapon bounced off the obliterator and sailed across the room as the orb closed on me.
“No weapon and no clue,” Gryn said with a smile from the floor. “Why not try and see if your flames—?”
I leaped forward and embraced him, rotating my body as the orb homed in on me. The obliterator punched Gryn in the chest with a thwomp, sending us both flying. I landed in a roll. Gryn landed with a crunch as he slammed into the nearest wall back first, before collapsing to the floor. I ran to where he lay, my claws extended, when an orb smacked me in the face, launching me straight into and through the ceiling.
I landed on the floor above, in pain.
My flames were extinguished and I was missing most of the scales on my torso. Gryn floated up gently through the hole I had made with my body. I was on all fours and gasping for breath.
“I’m not finished…not finished with you,” I managed through the pain. “Give me a moment and I’ll shred you.”
“You’re done,” Gryn said, shaking his head. “The message just hasn’t gotten through that thick skull of yours. If you doubt me, allow me to prove it to you. Attack me.”
“What?”
“I’ll just stand here while you attack. I won’t even defend against your next attack, no matter what it is.”
“Are you insane? I’ll kill you.”
“You’re welcome to try,” he answered with a smile. “I’m waiting.”
I got slowly to my feet and extended my claws. I saw him raise an eyebrow in approval and then what appeared to be concern. I let out a low growl and took three steps before the floor shifted sideways from under me and the world started rotating. The floor mercilessly stopped my fall as my body stopped responding.
I was still conscious as I saw Gryn’s feet approach. I couldn’t even move my head in his direction.
“What the—?” I started.
“Temet nosce,” Gryn said. “You don’t know yourself. Not yet. If I were your enemy, this would be the part where the Darkin dies, defenseless against a blade of pure energy.”
He formed a black blade of energy and brought it close to my face. I couldn’t even move my head away.
“Do it then,” I said through clenched teeth. “Don’t be a bitch about it. Make it quick.”
“I’m going to give you strength,” he said, letting the blade cut into my skin. “The same way I was given strength.”
I felt the blade cut from my jaw, down my neck and stop at my clavicle. It burned as I screamed. I reached up and grabbed the blade, my vision clouded by rage. My other hand grabbed him by the neck, but true to his word he put up no resistance.
“Do it then,” he said, using my words defiantly. “Don’t be a bitch, Darkin. Be the mindless demon you know you are. Make it quick.”
For a split second, the voice of the Darkin roared in my mind.
KILL HIM.
No. He’s right. If h
e was my enemy, I’d be dead by now.
I released his neck and the blade.
Gryn nodded.
“Now we can start.”
FOUR
The next few days were a blur.
Each day my anxiety about Acheron increased. Gryn, being the evil bastard that he was, used that against me. He’d discuss Acheron and then launch another attack, hoping to catch me off-guard and distracted.
It worked the first few times.
Painfully.
When that stopped working, he tried to undermine my confidence by planting seeds of doubt in my ability and lethality.
He was still in the middle of that phase when I realized the purpose of it all.
Preparation.
“You know, at this point, it’s probably an exercise in futility trying to rescue your demon,” Gryn said. “Do you even know where to look?”
“I know what you’re doing now, you old bastard.”
“I’m trying to save your life,” Gryn answered. “Acheron is dead or worse at this point. If you don’t get this, you’re wasting time. Do you think you have all the time in the world to learn how not to die?”
“Banishing a Demon Lord isn’t entry-level sorcery,” I answered. “It’s going to take time and a heavy duty cast. They’re going to need some serious firepower. I would know it if they tried.”
“Oh excuse me, I didn’t realize I was in the presence of such greatness,” Gryn scoffed. “Time is not your ally in this. Demon Lord or not, he can be destroyed.”
“He’s a Demon Lord,” I said. “If they managed to banish him, he was weaker than I thought, and deserved it. What self-respecting Demon Lord lets himself get banished by a bunch of third-rate sorcerers?”
“True,” Gryn said with a nod as he formed half a dozen obliterators. “Or they were stronger than you anticipated. It’s possible he lied to you. Maybe he was only a Demon Lord’s assistant?”
“You seem to forget that I’m the one that summoned him in the first place,” I said, bracing myself as I stood in the center of the warehouse floor. “I know what level demon I summoned. It nearly killed me.”
“Technically, it did. That was the last day you were a human.”
“I was blinded with rage and burdened by immense amounts of stupid,” I admitted. “I summoned a demon way beyond my power level and paid for it.”
“Are you saying Victoria should have let you die?”
“Maybe, I don’t know,” I said. “All I know is that it wasn’t pretty and I wished for death a few times in the process.”
“Despite all that, she saved you.”
“If you call me becoming an Otherkin saving…then sure, she saved me.”
“I’m sensing some pent-up anger in you,” Gryn said. “Blind rage can cloud your vision. You need to get that under control…channel it.”
“Who knew you were so perceptive?” I asked. “Blind rage is where I’m at. At least on a good day. Most days it’s irrational fury, but thanks for the tip. I’ll work on it.”
“Perhaps it would help if you knew why she did it?” Gryn asked. “I could always ask her.”
“What for? It’s not going to change anything. I don’t pretend to know why she does anything, anymore,” I said. “I stopped trying to figure her out long ago.”
“Yet, you do owe her your life,” Gryn said. “You do realize this, yes? She controlled the transformation. Without her intervention, you would have become something”—he waved a hand at me—“not this.”
“I know. That’s why when I deal with the Seven, she gets to live.”
“You’re playing a dangerous game,” Gryn answered. “Even this state you’re in is preferable to death.”
“You make it sound like being an Otherkin is all unicorns and pretty green fields of flowers with a rainbow shooting out of my ass.”
“Is that one of your abilities? Rectal Rainbows?” Gryn asked. “I’ve never really studied Otherkin extensively. Most of them were too aggravating to spend any real time around. I found myself wanting to blast them to dust. Seems to be the consensus about all Otherkin, from what I’ve learned.”
“We aren’t known for being cheery and jubilant, no.”
“Yet, Victoria seems to have steered your transformation in this direction,” Gryn said, pensively. “I wonder why? I mean, aside from the fact that your summoning was a colossal failure. What were you thinking summoning a Demon Lord?”
“Death, that’s what I was thinking,” I answered. “I just didn’t figure it would start with mine.”
“Your lack of preparation was astounding, but the fact that you managed to summon a Demon Lord was…is impressive,” Gryn said. “You couldn’t have possibly expected a demon of that level.”
“I didn’t,” I growled. “This”—I extended my arms—“all of this, is the price I paid, willingly, for what I did.”
“There is always a cost…always,” Gryn said. “You know this. It’s an immutable law of energy manipulation. To wield power, you must pay the cost. You wanted a powerful demon; the cost was astronomically high.”
“This is why I no longer summon,” I said. “Aside from the fact that I can’t anymore.”
“Right,” Gryn said with a short nod. “That ability has been transformed in you. Part of the ‘price’ you paid. Have you tried?”
“Once, afterwards,” I said, keeping my focus on the gently floating orbs. This was one of his tactics. Lull me into dropping my guard with conversation, and then unleash an attack. “The process nearly melted my brain. No more summoning for me. My body has been fundamentally changed. The energy involved in a summons directly affects me.”
“Must be that the demonization of your body is reacting to the catalytic properties of the summons,” Gryn said with a fascinated tone. “It would feel like part of you is trying to split from the other. Almost like a—”
“Rending,” I finished. “That’s exactly why I don’t even think about it now, and part of why I do what I do. No one else should go through this…should feel like this.”
“These things happen, but now you understand the depth of your choice. The question is, what will you do now?”
He released the orbs with a flick of his wrist. The old sorcerer nearly caught me off-guard.
Nearly.
I braced myself and controlled my breath, accessing the power of the Darkin within. I felt the energy race through me, starting at my neck with a bloom of heat and pain, then radiating outward from there.
The orbs moved slowly at first, spreading out. A half-dozen spheres of potential death and guaranteed pain. I made a point to keep them all in my line of sight.
My new scar throbbed with a dull pain. It had healed completely, and was only visible when my skin wasn’t covered in scales. At first, I thought it was just a jagged wound and that Gryn was some kind of twisted sadistic sorcerer.
After a few days, I discovered the wound wasn’t a random attack.
I still thought he was a twisted sadistic bastard, but the wound he gave me was more than just a wound. After he carved it into my skin, I found I could control the ability of the Darkin with less effort and with greater expression of power.
I soon realized that Gryn had etched a sigil of power into my skin, an ancient lost symbol that he refused to decipher. He would only say that he had given me power, the same way it had been given to him—through pain and blood.
What he said was true. He had given me power. More than I had possessed in my life. The questions that nagged in the back of my mind were: Why, and at what cost?
When I asked him, he would answer with: “Adjust, adapt, or die. What has been given cannot be taken. In time, I would know the reasons, but not now.”
The words were a small comfort when my scar flared with breath-stealing agony. At times, it felt like someone was holding a blowtorch to my neck and gently melting the skin away. The last time I complained, he wordlessly removed his shirt and showed me his back. A much larger, gruesome, ang
ry and deeper version of my scar covered his entire back.
It must have taken him months to recover from the inscribing. I honestly didn’t comprehend how he had survived. It held the same grisly fascination of a large scar. You realized the scar was bad, then after a few moments, your brain processed that the wound must have been horrendous.
I stopped complaining about my scar after that.
“Focus,” he said. “Or they will help you focus…painfully.”
The orbs hung in the air, floating and bobbing slowly for a few more seconds. They formed a large circular formation, and froze for moment, as if sniffing me out. Black energy crackled around each orb as they raced at my location. With a thought, and minor use of energy, scales and flame covered my skin.
I dodged the first orb, sidestepping it, while materializing my weapon. It gave off a dull orange glow as I separated the halves and sliced through the next two orbs, destroying them. I launched the two halves, intercepting the next two orbs as I rolled to the side, dodging the first and last orbs as they crisscrossed above me.
The two weapon halves boomeranged back to me as I extended my claws. I had finally managed—after much pain—to throw the chakram so it would return to me on the trajectory I wanted. I slashed through the nearest orb and backpedaled from the other as the chakram halves raced back at me.
Once my back hit the wall, I waited. The orb closed in fast, but my chakram halves were faster. I ducked at the last possible moment. The chakram impacted with the orb right before it slammed into the wall where I stood a moment earlier, destroying it.
I removed the halves of the chakram from the wall, absorbed the weapon, and doused the flames covering my body. I kept the scales up, just in case Gryn was feeling medieval and launched a surprise attack.
He was devious that way.
“Not a complete disaster,” he said, nodding. “At the very least, you’ve learned some of the mobility required to harness this new power. How’s the scar?”
They Rend: A Nyxia White Story (The Nyxia White Stories Book 2) Page 2
