[https://i.imgur.com/wkfcm6h.png]
The only way this very moment could be more perfect is if Styx was by his side. Tiny details made it the most excellent moment ever.
A fresh bowl of chili lime popcorn, a new pack of pens, an untouched notebook with a pretty cover, and fluffy socks. It also helped that Styx visited him last night. They sat on the porch and had a fascinating discussion about ancient death and burial rituals.
It was hard to decide which was his favorite. Sky burials in Tibet sounded epic, but then Japanese Jizo statues were awesome as well. He’d never guessed that he’d be so connected to an immortal being who could answer all his questions.
Perhaps his next book should use Styx as its source. He scratched his chin. Titled: “Echoes of the Reaper: Unraveling the Threads of Mortality.” A giggle escaped his lips as he squirmed with excitement.
It was such a good idea! Because he was deathly afraid of forgetting great thoughts, he quickly jotted down the name on a paper.
“I’m so happy!” He sang. “Happy as a clam, sitting on a damn, wearing…uh, wham? No, that doesn’t work. Oh! Eating spam! Yes!!”
He bounced in his seat. “I’m so happy! Happy as a clam! Sitting on a damn! Eating spam!”
Grinning like a fool, Caleb’s delight was palpable, as if delight radiated from him. But, he did still have a deadline, so instead of bursting into yet another poorly sung song, he turned back to the manuscript he was studying.
This book wouldn’t write itself after all, and he’d wasted enough time. Wiggling his toes and shoving a handful of popcorn into his mouth, he jotted down a few notes.
It didn’t take long before the words consumed him, and the outside world became lost.
“This exploration of the occult is an expedition into the very soul of mystery…” He chewed on a pen. “No, that doesn’t sound right.” He scratched out the last few words. “Oh! A journey into the heart of mystery, where ancient wisdom and modern understanding coalesce into an intricate…”
An earsplitting CRACK shattered the idyllic calm, and Caleb jolted violently. He toppled from the chair, pens clattering across the floor.
“What in the hell?”
Intruders, they screamed. The ominous clinks and grinding pierced Caleb’s core like rusted daggers, flushing ice through his veins. Reeling upright from his toppled chair, he blinked into the chilling confirmation. Peril hadn’t come calling as a nebulous threat, but a snarling danger, laying siege just beyond these familiar walls.
Caleb’s knees dug into the unforgiving stones. His pulse roared as clammy sweat seeped through his shirt, terror taking root as the implications set in—protection charms wouldn’t forestall whatever ruthless horrors awaited. Bloodied steel and fathomless danger awaited him, scraping at his threshold.
With a sinking sensation, he knew this threat would tear life from fragile flesh and leave permanent scars. And all Caleb could do was await their merciless trespass.
“Keep calm. A sprite could be trapped in the wards. Everything’s fine.”
Ashamed of his cowardice, he stood on shaky legs, adjusted his rumpled shirt and blew out a breath. Yes, likely a false alarm. Nothing to see here. Move along, move along.
After a furtive glance to ensure no one witnessed his mini-freak out, he cleared his throat and sat again. Just as he’d picked up his pen, more grating clinks rolled forth.
The nerve-rending screech of metal on metal seemed to drown out everything else. Caleb’s back snapped rigid, eyes ballooning wide. Still, that horrible sound dominated the silence.
“Uh…this isn’t good.”
He calmed his breathing, willing the ragged gasps to slow into a normal rhythm. But when the alarm silenced, he shook himself.
“See, it was nothing.”
Perhaps a dog got loose, or a heavy gust of wind. Yeah, that was completely reasonable. Still, it was better safe than sorry. It would be a colossal disaster if he let this breech go and it turned out something bad happened.
Standing, he started toward the door when bells erupted, reverberating through the hallway above. Caleb froze mid-step, dread clenching feverish claws around his lurching heart.
Rowan placed those alarms in his hallway and etched them with intricate runes. Their shrill resonance meant someone, or something, tripped the magical wards lining that corridor.
Shit, things just got real. Because if they were going off, that meant… More bells sounded, a deadly melodic chime. The sound built on itself, climbing into a chaotic reverberating crash.
“Shit,” he rasped, numb feet rooted in place.
More bells ignited, their eerie sound building upon itself. A clamoring death knell that cleaved through mind and bone. The protective enchantments were failing. Evil crossed his threshold unchecked.
Now, deep inside his chest, the panic firmly rooted itself. This wasn’t a lost sprite or an errant gnome. It wasn’t a dog or child. There could be one reason for these protective charms singing their alert.
“Demons,” he choked, taking the stairs two at a time.
Movement caught his eye, and the shred of hope winked out in an instant. Dark magic bled down the walls in vicious streaks beside him, the sickly sweet stench flooding his senses. Ominous whispers echoed around him as he climbed ever upward, fingers trembling as they grazed the door.
A supernova detonated against his body. Splintered wood and stone fragments tore into vulnerable flesh as he hurtled backwards down the stairs. Agony bloomed from a thousand shrapnel lacerations and blows from the unforgiving stairs. The very air cracked with mystical energy, scouring his skin.
He hurtled backward, books crashing down to join his limp body. The unforgiving stairs collided against ribs and spine, momentum propelling his limp rag doll form down, down into unfathomable darkness.
Finally, the icy floor slammed the breath from his lungs in a brutal landing. Intense flames engulfed him entirely, their fiery tongues dancing and flickering over every inch.
Helpless before the onslaught, a ragged cry escaped his bleeding lips. Tears blurred his vision as he desperately tried to comprehend what hell had been unleashed.
Then, through the swimming haze, malformed silhouettes converged above, spectral faces hovered at the edge of madness and reality.
“The human is cute,” a feminine voice said from the darkness. “I want to squeeze the life out of him.”
Caleb tried to move, but just flopped about before a massive foot pressed down on his chest. He coughed and spluttered, trying desperately to remove the weight.
“Perhaps later, Lilith,” someone said. “Right now, we have plans.”
“But, Nyxen, you said I could play,” Lilith said, stepping into Caleb’s sight.
She was pretty, with a cute upturned nose and vibrant blue eyes. But Styx was way prettier, so he didn’t worry about turning into a bumbling fool.
But when a second demon approached, Caleb knew that wouldn’t be the case for him. Because that demon was devastatingly handsome.
[https://i.imgur.com/c2CPQek.png]
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
“Human, meet Nyxen, the strongest demon on Earth,” Lilith said. “His blood is from one of the oldest lines. You should consider yourself lucky to meet a demon prince.”
This Nyxen character could easily seduce any man or woman with that face. Big, ice-blue eyes, a perfectly shaped nose, perky cheeks, full lips, and a well-defined jawline. He was the epitome of masculine beauty.
“Ohhh,” Caleb stammered. “Can you have someone else do the threatening? Because you’re so attractive, I might not be able to respond.”
Nyxen smiled, making his face even more angelic. “Perhaps I should use that to my advantage.”
“I’m not sure how,” Caleb groaned as he struggled to sit up. Unable to muster the strength, he flopped back down. “Because I’ll just turn into a stuttering fool and we’ll be here all day.”
Nyxen chuckled, a sound that was closer to heavenly than Christmas bells. “You make a fair point, Asher.”
Another demon materialized from the darkness. He was completely average, normal nose, brow, and blue eyes. Well, his lips were rather luscious.
“I can work with him,” Caleb said. “I might stare at your lips. They look rather kissable.”
Lilith giggled. “They are.”
Asher shot her a chilling glare that sent shivers down Caleb’s spine. “You’ve never been, nor will you ever be, so lucky.”
“Oh, come on,” a fourth demon appeared. Like Asher, he was completely normal looking. Except his lips weren’t nearly as tempting. “Remember that Asher is always cantankerousness.”
“I know why,” Lilith giggled. “It’s because his blood isn’t as strong as our fearless leader.”
“It’s because.” Asher glared at them. “I’ve been stuck with you morons for the last thousand years.”
Lilith and Draven laughed, before a single look from Nyxen silenced them. Now that a few moments had passed, Caleb tried to rise again.
Thankfully, this time, he could get his muscles to work. Sitting up, he groaned and moaned as he rubbed the various sore spots across his body. Blood darkened his shirt in several places, and there were tears in his new pajama pants.
“Awwwwww! Come on!” He pulled at the rips. “I just got these last week, and they were so fluffy. Awwww!”
“I think destroyed clothes are the least of your worries,” Asher said.
“No, do you realize how hard it is to find really fluffy pants with a 38 waist?” Caleb stared at the demon. “Because it is. I’ll have to go back and see if they have more. All because of you!”
Asher chuckled. “Perhaps it’s because of you.”
Caleb shook his head, but stopped when it hurt too badly. “No, did I send a blast of magic through the door, sending myself crashing down the stairs? No. That was 100% you guys.”
“So sue us,” Draven said.
“Maybe I will!” Caleb crossed his arms across his chest.
Lilith and Draven laughed together as they wandered off into the basement. Caleb grunted and wheezed, but eventually stood. He limped over to his chair and flopped down.
“Touch nothing,” he said. “I’ve got some dangerous shit down here, and I won’t be held accountable if you dissolve your hand off.”
“You’re rather unique, aren’t you?” Nyxen said.
Caleb squeezed his eyes shut. “Fuck, the handsome guy said something to me. Shit, what do I say? What should I say? Something cool…no I can never pull that off…uh. Damn, it’s too late. Now I’ll think of a perfect response later. Ugh! This is the worst.”
“Not as pathetic as that relation of yours.” Nyxen picked up a vial of unicorn tears.
Electric rage sprouted inside Caleb. No one, demon, god, or spirit, could speak that way about his Emma. Caleb grabbed a pen from the desk and jumped at the demon leader.
“I wouldn’t say such things if I were you!” Caleb flew toward Nyxen, pen brandished like a sword. He’d stab the fucker.
Asher yanked him away before he could get close to the demon prince. Caleb thrashed for another second before the pain got too much and he slid back to the floor.
“Will you please tell me what you want?” Caleb said, rubbing his bruised ribs. “Because I’m now in a bad mood.”
Lilith snorted. “Awww, poor human.”
He glared at her. “Take a drink of that bottle you’re holding. It will make you so beautiful. Asher here will beg you to kiss him.”
Lilith’s eyes lit up. “Sounds good to me.”
Draven smacked it away. The vial fell and shattered on the floor. Little smoke skulls drifted up from the pooling liquid.
“See,” Asher said. “Moron. Who would drink an unknown liquid off the word of a human?”
Nyxen nodded. “Seriously, Lilith. If there is one thing to learn, it’s never to drink an unknown viscous material.”
Lilith shrugged. “It probably wouldn’t have killed me, anyway.”
“No,” Caleb said, grunting as he got to his feet again. “That was my Abyssal Oblivion. Unless your insides were stone, it would have melted them. Hence the little smoke skulls.”
Lilith grinned, a menacing and evil smile. “Maybe I’ll dribble that down your throat when we’re done with you.”
Caleb ignored her and turned to Asher. “Can we get this over with? I have a book to write.”
“Not anymore,” Nyxen said. “Once we’re done with you, I doubt you’ll be alive.”
“Crap, the handsome one is talking to me again.” Caleb bit his knuckle.
“I’m getting a little tired of this,” Draven said.
Lilith held up an enchanted hand mirror to examine herself. “Ditto.”
“Yes, Asher.” Nyxen motioned for him to continue. “Let’s get on with it.”
Asher turned to Caleb as he sat back down at his desk. “Tell us where the Creator’s spell is.”
Caleb rubbed his neck, trying to figure out what they were talking about. While there were still some Creator spells around, they weren’t exactly common.
“You’ll have to be more specific.” Caleb tapped his lips. “I think I have one about getting 8 hours of sleep, but I don’t know where it is.”
Asher slammed his fist down on Caleb’s leg, right where the knee met the thigh. Shooting agony spread up and down his leg, and Caleb wheezed, doubling over.
Asher came closer, his hot breath stinging Caleb’s cheek. “The spell you used to summon Death.”
Everything inside of Caleb clenched and seized. Thoughts raced frantically around his mind as he tried to process the words. No, no! It couldn’t be. No, it was a mistake, a joke. A cruel attempt at humor.
He had to play ignorant for as long as possible. Because he refused to do that to Styx. These demons could destroy everything, even an immortal like Styx, and he wouldn’t be complicit in her demise. They could tear him limb from limb before he’d cooperate.
“Death?” Caleb squeaked. “Yeah, no, sorry. I don’t have any spells that powerful. Sorry.”
A twisted grin spread over Asher’s lips. “Are you sure that’s your final answer?”
“Better think hard.” Lilith draped an arm around Draven’s shoulder.
“Think real hard,” Draven snickered.
“Because if you lie to me again,” Asher’s voice dipped low. “You won’t like the outcome.”
Caleb gulped. He knew that these evil creatures could hurt him. They probably had special super-duper horrible things that could make him talk.
Unable to stop himself, he rubbed the spot on his ribs where the heat of the soul bond simmered. If he could resist long enough, then Styx would come with the other horsewomen. They’d save him, and he’d thwart the terrible plans of these interlopers. That’s the only plan that he could think of.
“No,” Caleb said, struggling to keep his voice calm. “Sorry, that’s not ringing a bell. Perhaps you have the wrong human? I know Hector Cyr, he might have it. That crazy fucker flirts with death all the time, so you’d probably have some…”
[https://i.imgur.com/bDCM5Gg.png]
Asher flicked his fingers and a luminous azure sludge oozed forth, bisected with veins of midnight. Caleb recoiled as the vile substance splattered, sprouting hundreds of fibrous strands. The arachnoid legs skittered forth, ravenous and feeding off the demon’s magic.
“Run away! Run away!” He scrambled back before those bristling fibers overwhelmed him in a tide of flashing heat.
The arachnoid-like legs swarming Caleb’s flesh left no agony unexplored as the magic bored through tissue and bone. White hot lances of blistering torment exploded behind his eyes. Muscles shriveled and bowed in anguish under the ruthless onslaught, fibers writhing against cramping bones.
Bitter acid bubbled up his throat as nausea gripped his stomach, threatening to expel its meager contents as the virulent magic tunneled deeper. His thoughts scattered like panicked birds taking frenzied flight as the ruthless invader scraped away layers of sanity and self.
Caleb clawed at his arms, desperate to rip away the bristling, sharp-legged horror dominating every inch of his being. But his limbs flailed uselessly, nerves alight with relentless misery. The ruthless magic would not be displaced, intent on infiltrating every darkened recess of mind and soul to enthrall him into an obedient husk.
Asher cocked one eyebrow and flicked a finger. Caleb’s arm jerked and spasmed, moving of its own volition to expose his desperate attempt to save Styx.
“There.” The traitorous mouth shaped the word, but the voice was Asher’s, resonating from within his stolen instrument.
The four demons looked to the bookshelf, narrowing in on The Princess Bride. As the demons plucked the book from the shelf, Caleb’s fragile hope fell away.
He crumpled, no longer captain of his fate, stranded behind unresponsive eyes brimming with silent, broken tears. Styx would be at their mercy, and it was all his fault.
“No, please…” Caleb’s voice rasped, though only a pathetic mutter escaped his paralyzed vocal chords. His imagination spun out agonized visions of the horror about to befall Styx because of his weakness.
He saw her slammed down and shackled by demonic magic, scythe just out of reach, her beautiful eyes overflowing with shock and hurt as evil hands closed around her luminous form.
“Styx, I’m sorry!” he tried to scream. In his mind, she turned from the demons’ grasping claws to meet his gaze, lips forming his name in despair, before malevolent shadows overwhelmed her divine light.
Caleb pleaded with any power that would listen to rewind time, willing to endure endless torment if it meant averting this cataclysm.
But the demons’ icy laughter as they claimed their prize echoed immutable and eternal as any lord of Hell. Hope winked out like a crushed ember, leaving Caleb adrift in fathomless darkness.
Only sheer hatred lent Caleb the strength to resist the calling abyss. Not for himself, but the anguished knowledge he’d failed Styx when she needed him most.
In the end, even stubborn defiance proved too little, too late. Asher hefted his limp body effortlessly, discarding him atop the etched pentacle.
All Caleb could do was flop boneless on the cold, unyielding ground. The icy floor leached away remnants of will and strength as his shuddering mind replayed endless loops of what horrors awaited Styx.
He conjured her face again, obsidian eyes overflowing with shock and hurt, her divine form bound cruelly thanks to his failure.
The demons’ casual voices were dull knives driving remorse deeper as darkness encroached on his buckling confidence. Now the end he always feared lay before him. Silent and alone, he slipped into the abyss’s cold embrace.
[https://i.imgur.com/4zr7HbC.png]