The Demon and the Elf (Book 1)

Chapter Thirteen pt 2

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Twenty seven years ago, there was a demon heir born from a powerful demon king and a well renowned spellcaster. The palace nannies had taken care of the demon babe, witnessing the first show of teeth, the first birthday, and the first time his horns emerged from the height of his temples. The demon king came and went, checking on his heir, asking about the status of his growth, while the spellcaster was rarely to be found.

The babe searched the castle for the two, however, climbing the stairs on his own when no one was around to look, pushing one foot, one hand, crawling forward with persistence. The long, empty hallways would stretch without an end in sight. The golden glows of the lanterns illuminated a false warmth on the cold and desolate pathways.

One time on his quest, he finally ran into his mother, a gorgeous woman, tall and proud. Anyone, even a baby, could tell she was of high status. When she saw the tiny being crawl his way over with miniature regal clothing, unfitting of someone his size, she began to laugh heartily. She picked up the baby and held him out in front of her, examining her creation. She was fascinated by the similarity of their eyes, the similar shapes of their ears. Turning and looking over, she examined the baby until she was satisfied and tucked him to her side.

"You little runt," she said, chuckling and ruffling his short, soft baby hair. When they returned to his room, she scolded the nannies' neglect to watch over him and then left yet again.

That was the first warmth he felt from a parent, and so he became quickly attached.

When the babe had come to age of his first words that were still yet spoken, the nannies frantically walked around his room, talking of the child, staring at him with questionable eyes.

Until one day, the king had entered, unannounced. He burst through the double doors and his heavy steps rattled the ceramics lined against the walls. The pouncing on the floor crashed closer and closer to the silent child sitting upright in his large, gold and ruby rimmed crib. Golden eyes cold to the core, the king stared crisply at the one beneath him and said one word, the first word he spoke to the child.

They say the first word out of a child's mouth are the ones spoken most from his parents.

And after that visit, the child started to speak many, many words to the demons who worked around the palace, all mushed in a toddler's slur. Repeating, rehearsing, believing. His first and favorite word became: "Disgrace."

When the child was five, old enough to run rampant, talk in hisses, and order his surroundings, his mother suddenly disappeared.

Before then, his chase had never faltered, searching for the glimpses of his mother whose eyes glowed at her experiments. Despite the disregard she held for him even more now that he had become noisy, he would come chase her, giving her orders in his high pitched voice. None of which she paid attention to.

So when she no longer lingered around the palace, he ran without direction.

He searched for his mother's warmth and father's approval, both of which had never came.

~~~

Drokn wasn't happy with the new changes in attitude as Eial had assumed of him. He decided to wash away the deep sewn stir he felt with bursts of dark magic shooting and splattering in the air, blending with the darkened evening. His pulse sped as a certain pattern of footsteps resounded behind him. Soft, yet firm with long, intentional strides. The rhythm he pretended not to observe and memorize. He kept his attention forward, shoving out dark energy, making his sweat and huffs of breath clear his head of buzzing thoughts.

The person behind quietly watched for a while, not even their breath grazed the air. Then, after several minutes, a boot crackled the dust ridden ground and bent a few lengths of sparse grass.

"When you throw a wall of magic, keep a barrier under you. When you're protecting your sides, your bottom becomes a target."

Hearing the unsolicited comment, Drokn furrowed his brows and clenched his teeth, spinning around and throwing the "wall of magic" she criticized right at her.

Well prepared for this, the demoness had already thrown bombs at his feet, all of which knocked him back at their explosion and created a cloud of dust. Mortified and enraged, he quickly regained his footing and blindly pushed another wall forward, and just like before, a few bombs had already landed around his feet. But this time, the demon had stabilized his bottom half, and without being affected by the second set of explosions, he sneered and waved the last wall of magic, catching the demoness off guard.

Or so he thought. As the dust cleared from the rush, he realized no one was at the other side. Suddenly, he felt a smack on his lower back and no longer was able to move.

"What have you done?!" the demon roared, twisting his body in failed attempts.

"Don't worry, just a paralyzation spell. It'll wear off in a few more seconds."

Just as she spoke, the demon's limbs became loose true to her word. However, because of his twisting, he stumbled forward, although thankfully not falling on his knees to his disdain.

"You—!" Drokn twisted around, shouting.

But the demoness interrupted and her words stilled him. "You know, you're not as weak as you make yourself out to be." Walking to place herself in front of him, her voice stayed firm. "I think that's all your father's talk. You're quick to learn and utilize. The thing is, you have to be willing to to learn and hear feedback."

Drokn couldn't process the unusual sentiment said to him, contrasting the sharp words he was used to hearing from the demons he shared blood with. His tongue tied and his eyes wavered, but his trained stone wall was unwilling to submit that someone like him needed feedback, and all he managed to shout was, "Bullshit!"

"Your fight with Eial, as awful of a moment as that was, you were smart with your fight. I'd only told you once about using your environment and you'd utilized it without practice."

She continued, "And this fight. All I told you was to create a barrier below you. And you figured out on your own what kind would be effective. Drokn, you're smart. If you want to improve, you need honest feedback. And for honest feedback, you need to understand and face where you lack."

Drokn didn't know how to respond. He felt conflicted as the strange praise was mixed with unwarranted criticism which he felt an instinctual need to lash back at. In the end, he just remained silent. Not accepting, yet not retaliating.