Split of the Worlds

Chapter 3.2

The tension in the angel's body eased from one moment to the next. Surprised, N'Arahn reduced the pressure of his body against hers, only to immediately grab her arms so that she wouldn't sink to the floor with her face scraping against the wall. A trick? Suspiciously, he pulled her slightly away from the black stone and tightened one arm around her, pinning her arms. Veidja's feet dragged lightly on the floor and her head swayed to one side as if she had fainted. But she was still awake, he could feel it. But something was... different.

The demonlord felt some sort of uncertainty for the first time. Not a pleasant feeling. There was no way his servants should see him this bewildered. He sent a brief impulse to Darr and Cek: the hunt was over, they should retreat. And stay away from him, he would be busy for a while. Obedience and a hint of envy were the answer.

And now? Something was wrong with his angel. He still wasn't completely convinced that she wasn't trying to fool him, though. Which would be kind of ironic, an angel deceiving a demon. He would otherwise have found it amusing. But by now he was worried. Hold on. About an angel?

Veidja took a heavy, deep breath and sank into N'Arahn's embrace for good. No more tension in her body, even her remaining glow seemed more subdued. Carefully, the demonlord dropped to one knee and half-laid her on the stone, leaning her back against his upraised leg. He watched her warily, her half-closed eyes, her hands open at her sides.

"I know you're not enjoying your stay here as much as I am," he spoke to her softly. He couldn't quite banish the worry he felt from his voice. "Tell me anyway: what's wrong with you?" He placed his hand gently under her chin and lifted her head until he could look into her eyes. Her gaze was clouded, the luminous amber had given way to dull ochre. He stroked her cheek with his thumb. " Darn! What's wrong with you?"

She was fading; his angel was dying. Not immediately, but this wasn't normal weakness. Now he understood why her escape had taken so long in the first place. She hadn't hidden her light, it was simply barely there. An icy pain spread through his chest. Like anger, but more paralyzing. Was it fear? Despair?

With an unwilling growl, he slid his arms under her back and knees and stood up with her. Hardly any movement from his angel. But at least she looked at him with a tired expression. Her eyes fell shut again and again. With Veidja in his arms, N'Arahn hurried along the corridors of his fortress, pushing a wave of darkness in front of him, telling all his creatures to stay out of his way. It promised terrible punishments should they fail to do so.

Her chamber. He pushed the door open with a kick, reinforced by a pulse of energy out of impatience, and let the lights flicker on. Brighter than necessary, but he felt the need to provide a counterpoint to Veidja's fading light. N'Arahn knew he was wasting energy. Energy that had been allocated to him by Him to fight angels, not to save them or make it more comfortable, even bearable, for them. But he couldn't help it.

As the door closed behind him, he shouted out his helplessness, his rage, until the lava rivulets embedded in the walls flickered. This was all wrong. The demonlord threw the angel rudely onto the bed. He looked down at her as she lay there, weakened. Not because of him and his deeds, as he had to assume.

Hot anger pulsed through his veins. If she was so weak, then he should just let her rot. She was no use to him or his hordes if she couldn't fight. And she had dared to challenge him, to try to escape. It would only be right to punish her for it. And this punishment meant worse than her death. He could finally live his usual life again. Killing angels and not feeding them. It would be...

"Do it." Her voice was just a hoarse whisper. "Follow your nature."

He'd never felt so at odds with himself. He wanted to kill her, tear her apart, until this insolent angel was nothing more than a bloody memory. To give himself over completely to the intoxication of violence. And he wanted to cover her with his body, give her what she needed, nourish her with his body if necessary.