When The Sky Bleeds ✔️

Chapter 9

I sat in the demonology class and glanced at the clock, my nerves tense as I awaited our first combat class in a brief hour. Professor Jones, a stocky man with glasses and an educated tone of speaking, began his lecture for the day. It was hard to believe this unassuming man was once a well-respected Hunter. As he began discussing the different breeds of demons we would be studying for the next few classes. My mind raced with memories of my recent encounters with these creatures.

As if a clandestine guest, the perchling had alighted upon my shoulder a day prior. Though its presence did not necessarily astonish me, the gravity of realization landed upon me with force. How long had it perched there, discreetly observing and biding its time for the opportune moment to unveil itself? The thought lingered within my mind, profound and disquieting.

The first slide showed the perchling demon, its grotesque features in all their glory. The class chimed in unison, correctly identifying the creature's name.

Satisfied with our knowledge, Professor Jones moved on to the next slide—a fiery demon I had never seen before. My eyes widened as I took in its menacing appearance. "What about this one?" The professor asked, testing our knowledge.

Someone from the front row boldly called out that it was an Emberlash Demon. I recalled Wilson's comparison of Desmond to an Emberlash. I flipped through my textbook, scanning its pages for information as the professor gave us a rundown and showed us several pictures of the dangerous creature.

"The Emberlash demon is an imposing figure at 8 feet tall, with lean muscular wings and fiery eyes. Its sharp claws and stinger-tipped tail make it a formidable opponent, and its flickering flames intensify when enraged. This demon is known for its temper and impulsive behavior, making it unpredictable and dangerous. It thrives in hot and arid environments, such as volcanic regions or deserts, where its inner fire can be fueled and empowered. Now, class, I want you to think critically about how we can survive the Emberlash," the professor stated, his eyes scanning the eager and nervous faces in front of him.

"Wear heat-protective clothing?" a young recruit called from the front row, her voice wavering uncertainly.

"Mm, that is certainly a wise decision," the professor nodded, "but it will only get you so far."

He then turned to another student, who promptly answered, "Find water?"

"A good idea if there happens to be any nearby," the professor replied, "but keep in mind that the demon frequents deserts, places of desolation where water may be scarce."

"Well," the professor paused momentarily before responding, "Africa is one of the many tropical climates we visit a few times yearly. So imagine if you were there and encountered an Emberlash. If you see one and run for water, you might meet your demise in whatever lurks in the depths, regardless."

"The best way to survive an Emberlash is to seek protection," he continued, his tone stern. "If the creature becomes enraged, you have an advantage. Have you ever witnessed someone's vision blur from sheer rage? How they become entirely consumed by their anger? That is exactly what the Emberlash's disadvantage is. Look for any available cover or barriers that can shield you from its attacks. Solid structures or powerful wards can provide temporary protection. Remember to stay still until the demon calms and flies off." The students all nodded solemnly, taking in this valuable lesson on survival in the face of danger.

As the minutes ticked by, Lily and I made our way to our first combat class. My nerves were somewhat relieved by the attire that had been given to us the night before—a maroon shirt with the symbol of the Legion of Light on the right side of the chest, paired with dark-fitted cargo pants and sturdy combat boots.