The Demon King And The Hero (Part One)

Chapter Nineteen: The Demon King and The Hero's Discovery

Chapter Nineteen: The Demon King and the Hero's Discovery

The wind blew harshly against a landscape that once had been a beautiful, vibrant town. Now all that moved was the motes of ash and dirt as it swirled in the air. In the midst of all the charred and burned rubble, a man stood, his body tall and proud against the bitter chill.

His face was streaked with ash, and his hands covered in what could only be described as mud, though what made it wet was questionable. Beside him was a row of protruding mounds.

There was no emotion to be seen as he filled the final grave. He just looked at it with a bland disinterest.

He was a handsome man, his skin the perfect shade of tanned brown, and his hair was a similar color. It moved with the wind, blowing every which way. He didn't seem to mind and continued to dig.

He was close to being done and finally took a break, taking a moment to stare at the setting sun as it winked a ray of light one last time. Looking back down, he reached up and pushed back his bangs, his muddy hands wiping across his brow, leaving yet another streak.

And then he realized that he was done, and as he shoveled the last bit of dirt over it, he bent down and placed a small doll on child sized grave, his eyes closing as he exhaled.

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Nemis couldn't remember what had happened the night before, but the Hero was shooting oddly sympathetic and dazed looks his way. She was more withdrawn than usual, and he wanted to ask her why. Yet, when he approached the subject, she instantly backed away and answered in a way that had nothing to do with what he wanted.

Her heart beat faster each time he approached her, and there was a bit of embarrassment tinting her emotions.

Again, he wanted to ask why, but he didn't.

He could only satisfy his curiosity by watching her when she came to check on him. He rarely spoke to her and she rarely spoke to him. They stayed that way. Their silent interactions meaning more than anything that could have passed through words.

It was an understanding.

But what kind of understanding it was plagued him. He simply did not know.

And so they spent a few days in Abolan , him recuperating from his "wound" as the others went around, trying their hardest to find new information on him. It was entertaining to say the least. They would come in and tell him what they had heard and run back out, never aware that the one they searched for was lying in a bed like an invalid.

It was entertaining in a sad way. His body actually hurt very terribly. As if someone had set his skin on fire, began to punch it repeatedly until his skin broke, and then healed it and started over again, . It kept repeating, in such a way that he could barely stand it.

The truly funny thing was that the Hero had used her Magick to heal him, and he had used his body's own ability, but there was still a massive black bruise covering his chest like a ink spot.

In all his life, Nemis had never seen anything like it. He'd used the spell of devastation several times, and never before had he ever seen it so severe and mordant. It was a fairly slow working spell. Most victims died within hours if there wasn't somebody there to heal them. Many in truth, could not do a thing about it.

Maybe that's why Felli's been giving me that look. Like him, she knew what the spell did, and she knew how strong and cruel it was. Even the Hero, who only knew what she had seen, seemed not sure about his condition.