G O L D E N

The Return

The pathetic demon below me groaned out in pain as his fingers twitched on their own from the electricity still coursing through his veins. Small plumes of smoke billowed from his red ears as he fell unconscious and his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

"Maybe next time you'll remember the definition of no," I said to myself as I pinned his skull under my shoe, pushing it further into the dirt. "Well, that is... if there is a next time."

As my words ended, thunder clapped in the sky overhead and another lightning bolt lit up the dark clouds in a bright purple. I sighed and gazed upward, letting my face fall emotionless as the rain pelted my skin.

How long did that fight last?

Glancing down at the body under my feet, I slowly lifted my leg and turned him over so he wouldn't drown in the small puddle forming under his face. I disapproved of my guilty conscious, staring at his pale face with a questioning gaze.

Was I really worth all of this trouble?

Sighing once more, I stuffed my hands in my pockets and turned from the unconscious man, walking forward again. He would surely survive his injuries, and I knew I could count on his whiny mouth to warn his friend of my power.

For fourteen years the only life I've known has been one of wanderlust. I've traversed across the entire Demon World on more than one occasion, with no destination or end in sight. Traveling was all I knew, and it was the only way I truly felt safe.

Ever since the beginning, there was always something that I found very off putting about staying in one place for too long. It made me feel vulnerable, unprotected, and that feeling stemmed from my very first memory.

I was four years old at the time, just barely able to think for myself or hold a conversation. I don't remember many details at all about that dreadful night, but the unbreakable fear it created has stuck with me even to this day.

I have no memory of my parents, no images to hold onto other than the color of their blood as it stained my jumper. I can, however, remember a haggish old woman and a blood curdling scream that woke me from my sleep. Looking back on it now, the scream was probably my mother's. The color red painted my clothes as the terrifying woman snatched me from my bed, resorting to dragging me by my feet as I struggled in her grip. I don't remember her face, surely because I locked that memory away, but I remembered her sharp teeth as she came at me from the shadows.

That night was the first time that I'd ever seen rain in the Western District, and it soaked me from head to toe as the wild woman dragged me through the mud. She came to a stop in a dark alleyway, tossing me ahead of her as if daring me to escape. I was cornered and completely petrified as she bared her yellowed teeth at me in the most menacing way. I could remember how hoarse my throat felt as I screamed, begging someone, anyone to save me. My mind was too young to comprehend what was happening, but my instincts were keen enough to know that my life was incredibly close to the end.

Then, as she lunged toward me licking her lips in anticipation, someone answered my call. I covered my face with my hands out of fear as the women yelled in pain. The sounds of bone splitting and flesh tearing echoed off of the wet brick walls that surrounded me, but soon all fell quiet. After a few moments, I found the courage to peak through my fingers at my savior and was stunned at what I saw.

It was a werewolf. His size told me that he was young, probably a few years older than I was, but in the dim moonlight I couldn't see much else about him. His back was to me as he leaned over what remained of my attacker with fresh blood glistening on his fur. As he felt my eyes on him, he glanced back over his shoulder at me. His eyes were brilliantly gold, glowing brighter than the moon as the rain raged on. I found myself staring in awe at him, feeling my fear wash away as the seconds ticked by. But suddenly, he gripped his head in pain and covered his mouth with both of his hands.