Lost souls

4 ☾ Deadly caress

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Raor

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Holy Dragons... Vorax managed to knock down the massive castle gate. He is a Demon more powerful than the relatives of the Gargoyles, the only one among all the armies of the five Greater Demons to hold a rank similar to that of a General.

He only obeys orders from Zandeimath, as she herself, during his creation, designed him this way: a different, strong, and devoted Lesser Demon.

I know his appearance: he is tall with massive shoulders, walks in a bipedal position, and generally resembles a human. Instead of eyes, he has grown a pair of bull horns, the tips of which are curled around themselves. His skin, smooth and luminous, is turquoise.

The knights of the royal army are either crushed or torn to pieces, the few remnants of a one-sided battle.

Zandeimath has exploited Ocleodathe to the last inhabitant, slowly planting the seed of Strife, taking tributes, and now she wants to wipe out the city completely.

But I wonder what brought her here. From my studies, Lesser Demons take root in territories where the concentration of dark magic is very high or in areas of the world full of depravity.

What happened in Ocleodathe to attract Zandeimath? I would think of a secret group that founded a cult in her honor. There are fanatics who do such things and then pay the consequences.

Surely Vorax was ordered to kill the royal family: the elderly king, the grandfather of Prince Hahbell, Princess Crystal, and the prince himself. If I don't stop him, the knights' training ground, managed by the authority of Ocleodathe, could cease to exist.

I manage to find him quickly, as Vorax hasn't preceded me by much. I followed his trail based on the bodies scattered throughout the castle; when I catch his attention, we're in the grand hall where the royal throne stands atop a vertiginous staircase, backed by a trio of stained-glass windows.

"Hey! I don't want to chase you through this damned castle, stop!"

Vorax heeds my request, noticing me, and turns around.

"In a hurry?" I rest Asmeidur on my shoulder, holding it with one hand.

The Demon opens its jaws, revealing all their ugliness: strings of drool stretch from the upper arch of the teeth to the lower.

Being a knight is an unhappy profession.

Everything I know about him is thanks to books. He can't be more terrifying than Inveirnath... or Eshmodath.

"I am your enemy now. Fight."

Vorax is less stupid than his companions and understands the language. I don't care if the opponent is willing to fight; I run at him, preceded by the length of the blade.

I jump, hoping to wound his chest, but Vorax is too quick. In a second, I crash into the throne, taking a moment to realize I've been shoved by a simple swipe. A poor start. Patience, there are no damsels watching, and if things don't work the first time, you try again.

I'm still seated at the foot of the throne, the floor cracked into clods, and if my back weren't protected by armor, it would have been worse. Blood trickles from my temple, and it's not in Vorax's interest to let me off easy.

He charges forward like a bull, the intertwined horns soon to impale me somewhere, perhaps in the skull or the stomach. I dodge by rolling to the left, and the horn tips get stuck in the throne's base where I was just moments ago.