The Bane of Light

Eulalia O Fontaine

"There is blood everywhere and I am lost in it. I breathe blood, not air" -Kelly Cherry, Rising Venus; "Lady Macbeth on the Psych Ward"

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The feeding hour had fallen upon us, and the Beast was hungry. The blood had been spilled. The summoning circles had been drawn. The shadows had begun whispering. Even the darkest, ancient ones, which usually remained dormant and silent, had roused, curious. They had sensed whatever was clawing to me from the other side of the Veil, was more horrific than usual. They were curious to see the bloodshed.

I had failed to hear the ominous warnings from the shadows. I noticed too late. I had gotten too giddy. As a creature much larger than I anticipated clawed its way through realms, and emerged from the summoning circle of my dormitory bedroom, another creature barreled it's way towards me. Through my dormitory doors, past the protective wards. A golden goon of a hero burst into my room, bringing down Hell upon my world. Now I had to kill him.

Paris Arobynn, our class golden-boy with an insufferable affinity for attention seeking acts of heroics, was standing in all his golden-glory, in a pool of blood and decay, in my dormitory bedroom. My doors were slammed open, unhinged. My wards were shot. As I tried to block the passage with sound-swallowing shadow, Paris Arobynn dismembered my demon. I gaped.

Never in my life would I have expected to have one of my routine demonic-seances to be interrupted in such a grotesque, inconsiderate manner. Never in my life would I have expected to find myself running after the aformentioned golden-boy, as he cut down my demon, which was summoned with my finite magic, for all sacrificial intents and purposes. Now there would be no sacrifice, if the blockhead sprinting around my room got to the seven-foot serpentine demon before me, and wasted all my strenuous efforts. I refused to have the privilege of the kill stripped from me. He needed to find his own bloody demon if he wanted to kill one so bad.

The large, lizard tail of the Umbra demon smashed into my armoire as Paris Arobynn cornered it, splinters flying about the room. The demon turned back around towards Paris. Shards of wood shrapnel launched for my face, before I quickly flung them to the side with a swipe of my hand. They redirected, hitting the wall and puncturing my soft furniture like bullets.

I bolted after the pair, daggers in hand. Instead of trying to reason with the oaf and attempt to usher him away from the demon, I redirected myself, deciding to aim straight for the Umbra reptilian and prevent Paris Arobynn from killing it first. My best hope was that I could kill it with my sacrificial dagger first, and harvest what I could. With a glint of silver, I hurled my blade through the air and directly towards the lower spine of the reptile, attempting to sever its spinal cord and prevent it from running any further.

The blade struck true, firmly lodging itself between the scaly tail and lower spine of the lizard. A horrid, horrid screech erupted from its maw, making me cringe at the thought of that noise getting back to my house mother. The ancient Beldame would string me up and skin me alive if she was awoken from her sleep by such a noise.

The moron, Arobynn, had cornered it with his flashy, eye-sore of a golden blade drawn and pointed at the Umbra demon.

"Stop!" I screamed out at him, sprinting forward at the sight of one of the demon's six legs twitching. It was going to swipe at Paris and claw right through his academy sweatshirt, slashing his torso to shreds. And after that, the moron would undoubtedly kill my demon, mercy be damned.

With an arm outstretched in an attempt to get the savage brute away, I jumped directly in front of Paris Arobynn. Paris shouted out in protest, and I waited for my blade to hit meaty flesh. I flew forward, suspended mid-air.