Fresh Ink: 2019 Short Story Collection

Persephone

The demons are howling again. They creep about the edges of my prison, barking every little insult and mockery that comes into their diseased little minds. Poison spittle flicks from their jowls, splattering about my divinity. It's all the damage they can afford to me so long as I remain within this barrier. Seven hours down, only the rest of eternity to go.

I do not lament this imprisonment. Rather, I was the one who placed myself in chains. The Hero, myself, and our companions threw ourselves into these hellish lands, so that these fetid hordes might never rise up and overrun the lands of the good and decent. But their king could not be slain, only tied down with the bonds of sacrifice. The Hero offered himself up, but I couldn't let him go. Selfish with selflessness, I took his place and was pulled screaming down into this pit. There's nothing but jagged stone walls extending forever upwards, each crack and crag home to one of the king's followers, furious beyond belief at the audacity I displayed in putting their leader to rest.

I know not how long I am expected to languish here, with the howls of the damned cascading up and down this pit. How much spittle will come close but not touch my vestments. So long as I pray, the circle of runes continues to protect me, the shining barrier burning my jailers whenever they try to push through it. My Goddess protects me for the time being, but magic takes energy. Soon enough my strength will fail me, exhaustion will pull my eyes shut and my shield will fall. And when it does, I imagine no time will be spared as the horde tears me to shreds in vengeance. Maybe it is that thought that keeps my stomach from complaining, keep my eyes closed only in prayer, not pulled away to rest despite the long battles the day demanded from me.

Cursed tongues continue to spit rot, but they cannot touch me. Rather, I do not dwell on them. My body kneels and prays, but my mind is far and away from all of this. Thoughts of my family, happy and safe back home. I imagine them saddened at my loss, but they will turn their evening wishes to me. The thought grants power to my clasped hands. I think of my friends, likely raising a glass in my name before returning to their homes. We helped so many on our journey, all those little towns with their little problems, each and every one as important as stemming the tide of evil. I've met so many people I would have walked straight past if it wasn't for him. Him.

Him, with his flaxen locks, with his sweet smile and polished armour. Always holding a hand out in aid, always ready to protect those that needed shielding from the dark. Him, who stole my heart as easily as he stole from the undeserving and rewarded the needing. I wonder if he ever left the castle where I fell, or if he stayed, determined to save someone yet again.

These sickly-sweet thoughts, eroding my determination. I should never have started on this path. It was always going to lead here. The chorus of demons and devils is nothing compared to the evils that I whisper to myself, drawing out small tears. That cloying poison, over and over again.

This isn't fair. Why must evil hang on by a thread, allowed to return out of sight of man, resisting out of nothing but sheer spite? Why must we sacrifice only to place a temporary cap on that which knows no artistry, no joy, no... love?

A particularly shrill laugh drills through the maddening crowd, forcing my eyes open. I can see the little devil that produces it – all horns surrounding a fat belly. It looks rapturous with my misery. Anger flicks up, a red-hot tongue of poor decisions. I unfold my hands, and point up the jagged shaft. The magic circle around me wavers.

"Silence!"

Magic pushes its way up and out, a massive bolt of light that roars up the pit and smashes into the side of the wall. The imp and five compatriots are incinerated, not even ashes remaining. That is... a surprise. A spell of that size should have left me ragged for breath, but here I stand, barely even swaying. I didn't even put that much power into it, yet I produced such destruction. The circle is shaking now, runes flickering out of existence. Angered twice over, the foul creatures start spilling down the shaft, thirsting for blood.