THE KING IS DEAD

18

IV. Save the Date
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❝SOON.❞
*ృ༅*. 𝕳𝖊 tells this to his reflection every time doubt grabs him by hair and pulls. "Soon," promises Sonic, but really, there is no doubt, only impatience. He is the one pulling his own hair, demanding that soon be now.

The demon told him that Shadow must die before the crown can be his again, but Sonic will heed no such warning.

Sonic will do no such thing, wicked as he is.

Shadow is his—but not to kill, not to keep. Just his. And the knight has never truly been in the way of success; Shadow has always inadvertently helped Sonic keep his emerald crown. Shadow has never been a true threat.

Yet the demon is threatened. Violently so.

When Sonic made the deal, it had bristled at the mention of the dark hedgehog. It had left deep claw marks in the mud. Kill him. It was very insistent. Kill the boy. Kill the boy and it's yours, all yours. KILL THE BOY.

All yours. Power, in more ways in than one. Sonic enjoys the taste he has been given thus far; he admires his reflection in the water: his blue-black fur, red eyes, the red-and-black lightning weaving through his fingers.

Sonic smirks, then. A laugh bubbles in his throat but never pops.

If he paints a scarlet stripe down his forehead and curls his hair, he can resemble Shadow.

He truly can be a faker.

But then he would ruin the uniqueness of it all. Shadow is the only one of such colours in such a pattern. There is none other like him, ever.

Which is to be expected, since he is the son of a demon.

The demon is a gnarled creature of black and scarlet, with eyes that claim to see all. Black Chaos flows from its claws, a colour native only to the demon. It is a wicked thing, ancient and knowledgeable, powerful beyond comprehension—it is his love's father, yet Shadow contains no wickedness.

It is one of the reasons why Sonic somehow loves him so much.

"You hesitate once again to do as I ask." A growl from the darkness behind him. "Why do you protect him?" It laughs when Sonic stiffens. "Or are you too weak, my disciple?"

"Being practical isn't weak. He doesn't stand in my way, so I'm not gonna waste time killing him. I've got better things to do, y'know." Sonic turns away from the creek, looking to the shadows of foliage where the demon lurks, found only by his three scarlet eyes, glowing like fire. "Tell me again how he's your bastard. I really find it hard to believe."

The demon growls but repeats itself, spinning the curious tale. "A female longed for a child, but no male would choose her. None found her beautiful, none but I. So I took her form and I bed her, gave her a son. But he was born with my ancient power, which is considered witchcraft and devilry in the eyes of your kind. He was different than the rest of the children, and so he was feared for it." There is only distaste in the demon's tone. "She was killed in the riots. They killed her for giving birth to a demonchild. I took the boy and fled far away; we lived in the twilight at the edge of the world. I tried to teach him my ways, but he kept sneaking off to see the humans. A foolish, maddening obsession with those sinful creatures. He had the gall to befriend one. I killed it as soon as I discovered his treason. He tried to kill me."

"He almost did," Sonic finishes, unable to hide the smirk. "And saw your true colours."

The demon roars, charging at Sonic until the twilight sun bathes it entire, revealing a wretched figure. The twisted bones, the drag of dirt and grass from where the demon pulls itself forward, for its lower half is gone; it walks by clawing and crawling.