They set out from Korak, making camp a couple miles out from the ruined city as the sun dwindled in the distance. It was a miracle, everyone alive and safe. It wasn’t a total victory, but it was far better than last time. For once, Trenton was actually in good spirits. They even managed to gain a new member to their somber little band, a fiery young girl named Maria that Kiva immediately took quite a liking to. They spent most of the afternoon chatting.
Kiva tugged at Trenton’s arm, pulling his attention from the mindless task of spiking his tent in the frosty earth, “Hey, I’ve got a favour to ask you,” Kiva said, almost sheepish.
“What is it?”
“Well…I want to go to the Eternal Forest. I need to visit the mother tree.”
“It’s a little bit of a detour, but it’s not terribly far. What for?”
Kiva took a deep breath in, steeling herself and staring Trenton straight in the eyes, “My family is waiting there for me. Or the people that raised me, I guess. I haven't mentioned it before, but I’ve actually never lived in any of the cities. Since I was little I’ve lived out in a little village on one of the mother trees' lower branches. But…” Kiva looked down, “...it was too dangerous. Constant fighting between rival tribes, monsters lurking about the trees,” she looked back up, weakly smiling at Trenton, mouth twitching at the edges, “I’ve seen a lot of people I care about die. But I’m stronger now! I can do something! I can fix it! I know I can. But I can’t do it alone. I need you to take me there, please,” she said looking up at him, eyes pleading.
Trenton stepped forward, taking her hands in his, “...I understand. Whatever it takes, I’ll get us there.”
She smiled, the last remnants of her strength as her will broke down. She sunk into him, tears streaming down her cheek, choked sobs barely escaping from her throat. It had been a long day. Trenton scooped her up in his arms, taking her to his more or less finished tent and laying the both of them on his wad of blankets and fabrics. Things would be alright. Everything would be alright. It was under control, one way or another. Slowly, together, they faded to a much needed sleep.
.
.
.
“Helllloooo?”
Trenton’s awoke with a start, cold fear clutching his fiery heart. Wrong, wrong, it was all wrong. The world was still dark. He couldn’t move, no matter how much he tugged and pulled. But that wasn’t what frightened him. No, what truly frightened Trenton was that he could no longer feel. The earth, that which had been gifted to him, was gone. He couldn’t feel it. It shouldn’t have been possible. It wasn’t possible.
Just then, a little light broke through the darkness, a fire off to his left illuminating the small space of his tent. Black chains pulsating with a vibrant energy warped around Trenton head to toe, effortlessly slipping in and out of his body like it were water, holding him aloft a couple feet above the floor of the tent.
Below him, Kiva still slumbered peacefully, seemingly undisturbed by the intrusion. And to his left, a markedly handsome man dressed in fine red silks with pure black scleras, blazing iris’s, and two black, twisted horns which sprouted from either side of his head stood, small flame in his left hand, black chains bursting from his right. He smiled at Trenton, small ripples disrupting his perfect complexion. His presence was calm, but it burned like a grand hellfire unquenched by even the greatest of rains, searing Trenton’s skin and mind from sheer adjacency.
“Ah, there you are. So glad you could join me.”
Trenton tugged at his restraints, but he couldn’t move. He tried to scream, but no sound came. He tried to move the earth, but it remained dormant. What kind of hell was this?
The man flexed his fingers, tightening the chains around Trenton’s body until he could hear the bones creaking, “These chains can bind a king, boy, mind, body, and soul. Nothing you can do will break you from them. Save your energy.”
Trenton’s eyes darted around the dim environment, scanning for any possible means of escape. Where was Wimbleton? Who was on guard duty? Surely Raligoth was still awake. Why hadn’t he sounded an alarm?
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Outside, through the open flap of the tent, Trenton could vaguely make out Wimbleton’s slumbering body sitting arms crossed, upright, in a simple wooden chair in the center of their camp, much like he always did. The man’s eyes followed Trenton’s alighting upon the quaint little scene outside the tent.
“Ah, I bet you’re wondering where your friends are. Don’t worry, I haven't laid even a single finger on their oh so fragile little skulls,” the man listed towards Trenton, falling onto a bed of his own chains, which held him aloft next to Trenton. He slung his arm around Trenton’s shoulder, chains making way for him. “See, I’m not here for them. And even though I’m a little curious how you got your grubby little paws on this one,” the man said, pulling out a chained Raligoth from his waist, “I’ve long lost interest in him as well,” the man absentmindedly tossed Raligoth off to the side, refocusing on Trenton. “Old, washed up bags of bones are hardly worth my time. But you, you’re different. To think, you’ve been around all this time hiding in the skin of a little boy,” the man grabbed Trenton’s head by the chin, twisting it to look the man dead in the eyes. “It’s brilliant. In just a few short months you’ve done what I couldn’t in several millennia–make the gods squirm. It’s priceless. I’ve never seen anything like it. They’re terrified, quaking in their boots like little children! All because you escaped, because you got away. And worst of all, they don’t even know how. Hell, I don’t even know how. You’re an enigma, boy, do you get that? And that brings to me why I’m actually here.”
The man stood, pulling brilliantly carved wine glass from seemingly nothing. He swooshed the liquid around the glass, leaning forward towards Trenton with particular interest.
“I am Ferheart–king of the devils–ruler of the hells, an archdemon surpassed by none. I live life lavishly, everything I desire tended to by servants of my own making, and there is nothing beyond my reach. Except,” Ferheart held up a single finger, “one thing–the gods. They’re the grandest cowards in existence. They made an entire realm above yours and two entire races just to fight their battles for them. And frankly, I’m rather sick of it,” he paused, eyes grazing the ceiling. “Divinity is an odd phenomenon. What does it mean to be divine? What does it mean to be a god? You might assume it’s a title you’re born into, something claimed by those few who were simply made greater. But you’d be wrong. Divinity isn’t a race, it’s not a state of being, it’s a title. It’s something you claim when no one is left alive to deny it. I watched it happen with my very eyes, saw the ‘gods’ of this world demand themselves as divines, and you either accepted it and worshiped them or perished. Divinity is the ability to create, to change, to force your way in this world when no others can. It is worship, being worshiped and revered. It is the folly to claim for all who fear death. Even the bull is a god in his own way. But I, I, am not. Under the thumb of would be divines, I am no god. And I hate it. The gods have ordered your death, begged and pleaded with me to claim your head, but I’ve a much better idea. Imagine a world in which you did not run for your life everyday, a world in which you were safe, at peace, happy. I could give you this world, forge it with my hands, my chains, and in turn, you would give me mine. Help me kill the gods, grind them to sparks, and the world would be yours once again.”
The man held out a hand to Trenton, loosening the chains around Trenton’s right arm to allow him a modicum of freedom. Trenton wanted to fight, punch the demon with all the strength he could muster, rip the chains from his body…but deep down, he really wanted to agree.
The idea sounded so enticing, it made him so happy, it sang seraphic tunes to his shattered mind. The gods, kill the gods. That alone was a preposition too good to refuse, the reasons why far beyond Trenton’s ability to understand. Trenton’s hand stalled in the air, his minds raging against each other, when all of a sudden, Ferheart whipped his head around, staring out the door with sudden surprise.
In the darkness, Trenton could make out one black and red eye which gleamed brighter than Trenton had ever seen. It bore into Ferheart, locking him in place. Wimbleton was awake. He was watching.
“Get out of my sight,” Wimbleton said, a bile so thick coating his voice that it threatened to poison the very air Trenton breathed.
Ferheart raised his hand, “And if I don’t? I’ve got a prisoner. Do you truly think you could stop me before I take my mark?”
Wimbleton’s presence washed over them, the boiling, exploding, ocean of pure, raging fire engulfing them, “Do you?”
For a moment, even Ferheart looked stunned, questioning his next action in the face of such a bold challenge. Then he laughed, a slow chuckle which built to a great roar, “Fine, fine. I’ll leave. I’m not here to fight, anyways. It took more than you could believe to sneak out here without the gods noticing,” Ferheart shrugged. “I guess I should’ve done my research. Those eyes of yours, they’re remarkably familiar. The last one of your kind that I saw…hmmm…I think it was Hrathologus–some millennia ago. To think, another one has graced this world, and without anyone even realizing. Things just get more interesting by the day,” Ferheart turned to Trenton. “Consider my proposal. I’ll be back, in time. Ta ta,” and with that, he sunk into the ground, a small red portal swallowing him whole.
Instantly the chains around Trenton’s body unwound, and he fell back to the ground. Sure enough, he could feel the earth once more. He looked up at Wimbleton, staring into the eye of death.
“What-” Trenton tried to ask.
“Go to bed,” Wimbleton interrupted.
“But-”
“Go to bed. I won’t say it again.”
“...right,” Trenton closed the flaps to his tent, settling back in next to Kiva. It was remarkable that she slept through the whole exchange, but also incredibly lucky. Who knows what would’ve happened if she’d awoken during the middle of that.