As might be expected, considering they had taken our diplomat hostage, no one from Lycanta decided to make an appearance. The other Void-touched kingdoms had sent polite messages expressing their deep regrets that they could not attend, but refused to explain themselves further. I must admit, I was disappointed that I would not be meeting any dark elves, vampires, orcs, or beastfolk.
After everyone had a chance to meet me and in many cases grovel at my feet, Ilmatar led us towards the head table where the main delegation of Dreadthorn would be seated, so that the feast could begin.
By now, the sun was low on the horizon, and the sky was a vibrant, reddish purple. Ilmatar pulled out a chair for me, and as I took it, I looked up and couldn’t help but smile. No rain today and barely any clouds. I remember what Mona had mentioned about the demon named Asmodeus, who I still hadn’t met, being able to manipulate the weather. Perhaps this clear day, as much as yesterday’s rain, had all been planned for me.
I was seated at one end of the table, next to Desdemona, who was next to Shatterbone, then Phaedra. All down the table were generals and priestesses, alternating back and forth. Seeing us lined up like that made me even more aware that the military and the church occupied all the highest positions in the demon hierarchy. I hadn’t met a Minister of Finance or Economics yet, or even a single diplomat.
Demonic servants filed out of the tower carrying large metal platters. They approached our table first and placed a tray of food in front of me. It held some kind of roast with gravy, alongside a salad of what appeared to be various roots, leaves, and fungi with a bright orange dressing drizzled on top.
The waiter leaned in to serve Mona’s food, and as he did so, I heard him whisper to her, so softly he probably didn’t think I could hear him, “Congratulations, Lady Desdemona. You’re still here.”
She stiffened, but said nothing, perhaps not wanting to cause a scene.
But I had different plans. Surprised by my own speed, I reached out and grabbed the waiter’s arm before he could move on.
“You,” I said to him. “Wait here.” Then I turned to her. “Desdemona, my darling?”
She looked at me with wide eyes, surprised perhaps. “Y-Yes, Master?”
“Would you like me to kill this cretin for you?”
A couple seats down the table, I could hear Shatterbone shift slightly in his chair, and I wondered if he’d already begun to reach for his axe, which was resting against the table right next to him. It would probably make his day if I let him do the honors.
Mona smirked. “Thank you, Master, but that won’t be necessary.”
“Ah,” I said, as if I didn’t care either way. The waiter had become frozen in place, eyes staring at me in fear. “Just maim him, then?”
She smiled wider but reached out and placed her hand on my arm. “Thank you for your graciousness, my Lord, but I think we should permit Creech to finish serving the feast. After all, we do not wish to cause a scene, especially since we have foreign visitors.”
Shatterbone audibly sighed, clearly disappointed by the lack of bloodshed, but said nothing.
“Ah,” I said. “Of course.” I looked at Creech again, narrowing my eyes slightly. “I suppose, Creech, it is too late to warn you that I have excellent hearing. When you insult the High Priestess, you insult me as well. Do you understand?”
He nodded with wide eyes, his throat working as he swallowed. “Of course, Dark Lord, please forgive me. I did not mean to—”
I cut him off. His excuses, whatever they were, were already tiring. “I want you to remember that from now on, your fate is entirely in the High Priestess’s hands. You shall treat her as you would treat me. It is only by her patience and grace that you remain.”
“Of course!” he said, in a panic, bowing forward without dropping any of the other plates he carried. “Thank you for your mercy, High Priestess!”
“Go, then,” I said, as I waved him away.
He wasted no time running to another section of the gardens to be out of my sight as quickly as possible. Desdemona leaned towards me and whispered, “You did not need to do that.”
“I know, but did you enjoy it?”
A pause. Mona shook her head, but I saw her smile. “More than I should have, perhaps.”
“Good.”
“Also,” she said, leaning closer to me, “we are all waiting on you to start eating.”
“Oh,” I said, noticing now that many of the people who had received their food were looking at me expectantly, including Shatterbone.
I raised my metal ruby-encrusted goblet, which contained a red liquid I could only hope was wine, and shouted, “May the feast begin!”
Many in the crowd raised their glasses before slamming them on the table, causing their drinks to spill. I wondered if this was the demonic version of cheers. I took a long sip, the liquid burning my throat slightly, then did the same. A cheer resounded. From a nearby table, Princess Nymphyra watched me with hunger, as if she wanted me more than the food. At the far end of the gardens, I saw the “best imp,” Fitzpick, standing on top of a table holding his goblet above his head, doing a little dance.
The party had finally started.
As usual, the food was excellent, even if I had yet to learn what I was actually eating. I dug in, without a care in the world. The less I knew about its origins, the better, and for a while the time passed easily.
----------------------------------------
After our plates were empty, and our goblets dry, we filed into the large temple on the ground floor, the widest part of the tower. This temple was by far larger than the room where I’d been brought back to life, the sanctum which occupied one of the tower’s upper levels.
Thankfully, the ceremony we were about to perform was what Mona had spent the majority of the afternoon coaching me on. Though I felt some measure of nervousness, I knew all I could do now was try to perform as she had instructed. The thought occurred to me that if Mona had wanted to reveal me, all she would have had to do was teach me the ceremony slightly incorrectly, and that would be my end.
But then she would be doomed as well, and besides that, there was the manner of her reaction to the Princess. If she had intended to betray me, it would not have mattered nearly so much to her.
We walked past black stone pews towards a massive steel altar on a raised dais at the far end of the auditorium. Behind the altar, a large banner depicting a black circle surrounded by a gold, four-pointed crown hung from the vaulted ceiling. This was my symbol, I gathered. The black circle was the Void, which made me the crown. From up in the rafters, gargoyles in the shapes of demons stared down at us, keeping their silent vigil.
Looking at the banner, there was one thing I didn’t understand from the Book of Grievances. The Void-touched or “monstrous” races were born when beings such as humans or elves wandered too close to the Void at the bottom of the Voidlands.
Humans had decided, millennia ago, to build a city atop the fissure leading to the Void and name it Dreadthorn. Over time, their forms had changed, along with their very essence—and so the demon race was born.
In time, the influence of the Void spread over land and sea, changing the form of all it touched, birthing all manner of new beings. The Void created the monsters, and Greg-Theryx was merely the god who had decided to defend them.
So was the Void a “god,” too, in a way? Or was the Void more like a natural entity, and worshiping it was like honoring Mother Earth or a similar concept?
Simply put—was the creepy black hole under the tower actually alive? Or was it just there?
I had no idea, and that bothered me.
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We reached the altar, and Desdemona gave me a slight nod—here we go, I thought. I sat on a tall, spiky-looking throne, while Desdemona stood behind the altar and placed her hands flat upon it. Once the pews were full, she would begin the ceremony, a service in honor of Greg-Theryx’s return, the god who had come to deliver them all from damnation and suffering.
Well, we’ll see about that last part. I wasn’t exactly a miracle worker.
The feast-goers had begun to enter, filling the pews, jostling in some cases to get as close to the front of the auditorium as possible. It wasn’t every day, I supposed, that you got to attend a service with a god in attendance.
In the front row I saw many familiar faces—Shatterbone, the other Generals, and Ilmatar. There was also a demon I hadn’t seen before—in fact, I hadn’t seen any other demons like them. They were a large spherical being with wrinkled blue skin, and appeared to be floating slightly above the pew rather than resting on it. Their body had an oversized, one-eyed face, which was watching me attentively. How they looked at me creeped me out, as if they were staring into my soul.
Deciding I should stop staring back at them, I began to look at the rest of the audience. A few rows back sat Princess Nymphyra with her handmaidens, and on the opposite side of the auditorium, Minister Zxystar sat by himself. They seemed to be pointedly avoiding looking at each other.
Lucifron stood near the entrance to the temple, still standing at attention, his eyes watching the guests as they entered. When I briefly closed my eyes, I could sense other soldiers of the Winged Legion up in the temple rafters, crouching alongside the gargoyles. Knowing they were up there reassured me, somehow, even if we were all monsters here.
After a few minutes the steady stream of worshipers thinned, and guards swung closed the large double doors at the entrance to the temple. Desdemona cleared her throat at the dais. In unison, the magical light coming from the sconces in the aisle dimmed, and the temple was enshrouded in darkness other than the illumination around the altar, which covered Mona in a radiant orange light.
“My fellow demons and Void-touched,” Mona said. “It is a pleasure to see you here. Tonight is the night we celebrate the return of Greg-Theryx, our Dark Lord and Savior, our True God.” With a flourish, she extended her hand out towards me. “We have waited for over two hundred years.” As I looked back at her, I saw utter commitment in her eyes. Even I was almost convinced by what she was saying, and I knew it wasn’t true. “Our wait is over. At long last, he has returned, and he will lead us towards triumph and victory! Rise, now! All of you who serve our Dark God!” Her voice was loud, echoing within the hall.
Everyone rose to their feet until I was the only one still seated. Mona had been very careful to tutor me on this part. If I stood up now, I was dead. I was thankful that my faithfully devoted followers, for the most part, avoided looking directly at me.
Mona picked up the golden goblet that had been sitting on the altar, then raised it to her lips and sipped from it. Afterward, she continued, “Children of the Void, devoted faithful, the sight of you here today fills me with pride. Each of you is a cool shadow on a summer day. I am so pleased that you have joined me in paying tribute to our Master’s return. We will begin as always with the malediction. Please join me on page seventeen of the Book of Grievances, and recite with me as our Priestesses distribute the unholy draught.”
From the sides of the auditorium came two single-file lines of priestesses wearing their robes, hoods up, carrying trays of goblets in front of them just like the one Mona had drank from. The cups would be passed through the pews, and each person would take just one sip. Near the front of one of the lines, I thought I saw Phaedra, staring at me for a little too long before turning away and beginning to pass the cups.
When Mona and I had rehearsed this, I’d asked Mona what the “unholy draught” was, expecting something terrible—a virgin’s blood, perhaps. But in truth, the draught was concocted from watered-down mushroom wine, slightly hallucinogenic but not something I would have questioned if I’d been given it on Earth.
Mona began to recite the malediction, her voice ringing throughout the temple. “Children of dusk and shadow, who do we curse?” When she gave the answer, the entire hall responded with the same words, a chorus that thundered, “We curse the light of Sun’Domia that does not shine upon us. We curse the ones who have sought to drive us from our lands. We curse the wars that have taken our ancestors, and the knights and paladins who have butchered our kin…”
The priestesses were still distributing the cups, each person taking a sip before passing it on—hardly sanitary, I thought, but I guess that wasn’t much of a concern here. It would be my turn soon. Once they finished, I would approach the altar and take a drink myself. And then I would address them all—my worshipers, my followers, my people.
I took a deep breath and sighed. As I did so, my eyes drifted from priestess to priestess, looking at their eyes underneath their hoods as they filed past Mona and me. Their eyes were downcast, focused on the floor in front of them. In the hoods they all looked the same, as if they could have been anyone.
“Deliverance has not come easy to us,” Mona was saying, “but it will come soon! At last, we will be vindicated when Sun-Domia has been banished back to the so-called heaven she crawled from, and her host has run back to their light-scorched plains like cowards!”
Looking at Desdemona as she spoke, I saw the fire within her; even if she had lost faith in what she was saying, she still made me want to believe. I couldn’t help but smile at her briefly before I caught myself.
My focus was pulled away from her by a strange sensation within my forehead, a jolt of awareness. My third eye sensed something… I looked around, blinking rapidly, my eyes scanning over the auditorium. Everyone was standing, accepting the wine, chanting in unison…
My vision passed over the line of priestesses. The last of them were still filing into the auditorium. As my eyes flitted past them, I saw that one of the last ones in line—from talking to Mona, I knew this would be one of the most junior priestesses—wasn’t staring at the floor like the others. Instead, she had been staring at me with a strange and unsettling intensity.
I stared back at her, which caused her to look down and away. I slowly blinked, focusing on her, and realized she stood out from the rest. Her aura was a brilliant white light, almost as strong as Mona’s orange fire. There was something strange about her, I knew. I opened my eyes and looked at her again. I was frozen, uncertain of what to do, wondering if I could trust what I had seen. But if I couldn’t, then what was the point?
I rose to my feet, much too early for my part in the ceremony. Mona looked over at me with a raised eyebrow and a panicked look.
The suspicious priestess wasted no time—as I rose, her eyes sharpened their focus on me, and I realized these were not the eyes of a demon. They were a brilliant hazel, and her irises looked different than the other priestesses.
In one graceful movement, she placed her hand on the railing that separated me from the rest of the congregation, and leapt across it.
She was faster than me or anyone else I had seen so far in this world, my vision blurring as she leaped towards me, her arms in front of her and her body horizontal as if she were a quadruped. I realized with a shock that I had been mistaken. Lycanta had sent someone after all.
Her eyes closed as she dove towards me, and her lips mouthed words I couldn’t make out as her left hand emerged from her robe wielding a gleaming sword. Still in mid-air, brilliant white flames erupted from the blade, and a high-pitched ringing sounded in my ears, as if the bells of heaven were tolling for me.
I raised my hands in front of me, trying in vain to defend myself, though I doubted any part of my body would react well to a sword burning with holy radiance. Her feet touched the ground for only an instant before she leaped again, moving even faster with each step. This last bound, I realized, would take her right to me.
Disappointingly, she hadn’t even delivered a monologue before attacking me. Instead she’d drawn her sword without a single word, and when she killed me, I would never know why. But I suppose I could guess the reason. There must have been plenty of folk with vendettas against me, or against who they thought I was.
Time slowed to a crawl. I stared down her blade even as it drew closer, leaving a silvery glow in its wake, as I tried to think of anything I could do to defend myself, anything at all that might save me—
Until a chain of fire burst to life and sprung towards my attacker from off to my right. Flames curled around her sword arm and tightened, killing her momentum and jerking her to the side. I dodged to the left, away from my attacker. Her sword had cut the side of my throne, but little else.
It took me a heartbeat to process that Mona had saved my life, for the other end of that chain of fire was coiled around her hand.
My attacker’s hood had fallen back, and there was something that looked wrong about her tiny horns and red skin, as if they were made from shifting smoke.
The attacker stared at me in rage for one long heartbeat then turned towards Mona. She let out a scream, and I wasn’t sure if it was out of pain or zealous rage.
With blinding speed she ran, switching her sword from her left hand to her unbound right in one fluid motion, closing the distance between her and Mona in a flash, her sword cutting through the air. I saw Mona’s lips move, and she shifted to the side, but too late—a shout tore free of me when I saw the blade slash Mona’s shoulder. Mona fell behind the altar, her face wracked in pain.
As Mona fell, the attacker lifted her sword and twisted it in her hand as if she intended to thrust it down into Mona’s chest. I glanced upward at the rafters, and saw the Winged Legion swooping in, even now, to save us.
But they would be too late. I watched the sword fall as if everything were happening in slow motion, wondering if this was it, if it would all end so quickly, after only a day. Mona, I thought, if you die, it will be my fault, because your god would have been able to save you.
Then another thought came to me, a vision of the sword burning a hole in her chest, of her blood spilling upon the marble, of her death.
Stop thinking and do something!
But what?
There was only one thing I knew. Only one thing she had taught me.
I stretched my hands forward, imagining them closing around the attacker’s neck, pulling her back towards me before the sword could fall. And I felt something in my chest, some kind of energy, and I remembered what Mona had said about the rules of magic, about Will—you had to desire it, and the more you desire it, the better a chance you had. For the time being, I chose to ignore the rest of what she’d said—years to learn, decades to master, et cetera… All I needed was one spell, enough to buy her another second of life.
I didn’t have time for the full incantation, but Mona had said that if you knew the spell, you didn’t need to say it. I envisioned the spell, the feeling of when I’d tried to cast it, and the sound of the words in my mind. I imagined the flames leaping from my hands. I thought of how desperately I wanted it to be true, how I needed it to be.
After all, I just met you, and I don’t want this to end.
“From fire, bondage!” I shouted in the Old Tongue, and I could already feel this time was not like before. This time my voice boomed like thunder, as if a hundred other voices had joined me. When I spoke it was in the language of creation itself, and for one instant, it was as if time stood still, before the energy held within me erupted from my hands, and reality had no choice but to surrender.