A hushed downpour of rain steadily streamed from the sky outside, but the girl could not hear the sounds of the rain. All the girl could hear was the overwhelming sound of her heart beating violently against her chest.
Cold, rusted chains bound her arms and legs to the icy obsidian alter. A damp strip of cloth was wedged between her teeth, and tied the girl's head to the table. Whether the cloth was damp with the liquid the dripped slowly from the ceiling or with the girl's blood was unknown. She relentlessly thrashed on the alter, trying to free herself from the restraints, but to no avail. All around the pitch black alter, humanoid shapes clad in hooded robes stood around, looking down at the girl and then up at another, taller figure who stood several feet away from the girl's head, unsure of what they were supposed to do next.
The tallest of these figures clutched a pair of rusted tongs with large scoops on the end. The tongs seemed to absorb the small amounts of light seeping into the room, making the area surrounding them pitch black. From the small cracks between the two scoops of the tongs, however, a faint blue light managed to escape, allowing the rusting scoops to be seen.
The tallest of the figures abruptly pivoted around to face the girl on the alter. In unison, the other figures also turned to face the girl, who had stopped thrashing and was now heavily breathing in a fearful manner. A low, melodic chanting began as the tall figure slowly made its way to the alter, arms stretched out, as if to keep whatever was glowing inside of the scopes away from the figure's chest.
The figure stopped, and from where the girl's eyes were pressed open in terror, she could see the figure's face. It was twisted and narrow, and the skin was milky white. Even it's eyes were milky white, with no pupils. The figure tilted it's head to reveal a twisted black mass of Rae energy.
The mark of a Daemon.
The girl gulped in fear of the Daemon, and quickly averted her gaze to an empty corner of the dark hall.
The Daemon motioned with it's head for two of the other figures to come forward and press the girl's chest down, so that she could not struggle. It opened the tongs, and quickly moved them out of the way so that the figures still in the shadows could see just what was in it. A small, glowing blue orb with a tail floated gently above the girl's body, slowly dancing down to the girl's chest.
A soul.
It came to rest just between the girl's collarbone and her breast bone. The Daemon dropped the tongs on the stone floor, and they clattered loudly. It was the only noise audible in the entire hall, other than the girl's labored breathing. The Daemon outstretched it's gloved hands and pressed the soul deep into the girl's soul cavity.
She howled in pain. A burning sensation resonated all throughout her body, centered on the soul cavity. The Daemon stooped down next to the girl's ear, and she went silent again, clenching her teeth in terror. The Daemon opened it's mouth and made a cooing noise. It's voice was raspy and sickening. It snickered to itself for a moment before imparting it's message on the girl; "No one can save you now; no one can hear your cries. No, not even the gods can help you."
As the Daemon stood back up, the girl began to moan and groan once more. She struggled against the rusting bonds, but to no avail. With out any warning, every flame in every candle in the room was extinguished; every small shard of light vanished, rushing towards a mass of pure darkness. The figures all turned to face the eerie black hole that all the light had rushed to. A feather drifted past the foot of the alter and floated upwards before falling once more onto the girl's chest. Before the girl could do anything, a smooth hand was holding her chin, a soft finger rubbing at her lip, it's sharp nails threatening to pierce the girl's skin.
The owner of the hand clicked their tongue before murmuring into the girl's ear.
"How may I serve you?", was the question.
The only answer the girl could muster was an angry, "Octavian..."
Then with that, the world collapsed around them.
———
author's note
heyo so this is a brain baby I've had since like 4th grade that has definitely evolved a lot and I still love it so I'm trying to write it down :) anyways,,, here's an introduction into it.
YOU ARE READING
THE RAECHILD
FantasyA half diety. An angry daemon. One hell of a war. - Cassandra Grey is no ordinary young woman; she is one of the 13 dieties, saddled with ruling the city of the dead, Isyrae. However, her reign is interrupted by a usurper from the demonic race of t...
