Cain was born like most others of his kind, suddenly, without warning, and full of fear and curiosity. Like most others he simply opened his eyes inside a void. He couldn’t see, as much as he could feel things moving around him. Pale, slithering things that kept out of sight, but close enough to get a taste of him. It was unnerving in a way he couldn’t describe.
His thought were clear, despite the lack of experience. He might have floated there for hours, days, or seconds. The shapes kept moving. It was impossible to tell. After awhile it became comforting in a way, those distant yet claustrophobically close shapes. He felt the darkness around him, then emptiness, the company, the possibility. In time he grew eager. ‘
It waited until he was practically panting with the need for it, to feel, to touch, to breath and smell, to taste. To be. Only when he was clawing at his sides in frustration did it reveal itself to him, grinning and ugly, and so so very beautiful.
He couldn’t describe what he saw, as much as he could see it. It was something bigger than him, smaller, endless and determined. It had a voice, but no words.
Only laughter.
The second time he woke up he felt something new, something wet. Cold. It rained, and he was in an alley. Cold gravel clung to his skin, but with a force of will it fell to the ground with a faint patter of sound. Soft skin without a single flaw greeted him beneath that grime. Long fingers uncurled as he sat up in the cold. Red hair framed his face and fell past his shoulders, down to his waist. He felt at his face and found more soft skin, warm to the touch and tingling with something faint, like electricity playing around a area struck by lightning. Cain felt a shiver of pure pleasure run through him as sensation and awareness spread through his body. He was alive.
The feeling persisted, grew, and increased, until it changed from joy to need, just as sweet. He felt desire rise up in his chest, strong and raw, as if he was a starved man waking up from a long sleep. The feeling rose and grew, until something in his head clicked and sprung to life. A sweet herbal scent wafted into the air around him, as thick as his hunger. He let it rage through him like a storm on a lake, tearing through his limbs until he lay curled up again on the ground. A faint sound broke through the pitter patter of rain and gravel, and after a dizzy moment of thinking he realized he was the one making it. A low, mewling kind of sound something makes when hurt. A delirious sound. A sound that beckons.
He didn’t have to wait long. The crunch of boots on gravel approached unsteadily, the owner of said boots swaying back and forth like a drunken sleepwalker. That was what he was, drunk, if not asleep. Cain made another sound that set the man’s hairs standing straight up, but the herbal scent promised things too sweet to acknowledge the danger.
Cain felt the pull of prey from the man, felt the way his heart sped up when he inhaled his pheromones. When Cain sat up the drunk stumbled closer and nearly fell on him. A surprised yelp was enough for the man to sober up and steady himself. Cain’s green eyes held the man like a chain, drawing him closer. Strong, callused hands found soft and inviting skin to grab onto, wet rain dulling the sounds of the pair. Cain found himself pushed down onto his back, legs pushed apart as the man fumbled with his clothes, drunk on both alcohol and magic.
Cain felt new parts of his body wake up and unfold as the man rid himself of his pants, eyes too distant to take in the way the smaller man moved. He did not see the wings with too many joints unfold beneath them, did not see the tail with its frills and fins lash out and wrap around his waist. He was too focused on the scent, the sensation, the need. Cain moaned blissfully while the man had his way with him, far too taken in by the lure to notice the wings and fins folding around him like a cocoon. He didn’t feel the way the pheromones stung when they couldn’t spread past the confines of Cain’s wings. Quick, desperate movements had the pair rocking back and forth, breath caught up in the act and hearts hammering in sync. Cain gave in to the lust, the sensations, the need, and the scent grew stronger all around him.
Blood dripped onto his face, mixing with the sweat and saliva dribbling down from his prey’s face. He reveled in the wetness of it, the way his scent grew thick enough to be seen by the naked eye around his catch, the way it tore into his body like acid. Still their hips moved as Cain stripped him of everything he was, human and soul, all torn down for his pleasure alone. He didn’t know if the human felt any of it, or if he simply moved his hips and hands because Cain’s scent demanded it of him. It didn’t matter really. He would keep the man moving for as long as he existed, which wouldn’t be long now. Enjoy it to the very last.
The climax of the act came when the man’s clothes fell flat on Cain’s body, any trace of their owner consumed and gone. He was in a trance, the pleasure of his first kill was making his head spin in a way he couldn’t even have imagined while in the void. It took him several tries to regain his senses enough to unfold his wings and tail again. When he did it almost felt painful. The rain was cold and the air smelled bitter and stale without the salty scent of his prey and the sweetness of his magic. Cain stared up at the dawning sky blankly.
The clothes his prey wore still lay on his chest. Feeling new interest spark, Cain sat up and grabbed the discarded pair of pants. The clothes of the dead man were large, worn, and not that impressive. To a newly born demon they were perfect. Cain donned his new attire, noting that the cloak had a roomy hood he could pull all the way over his head if he tried. He did, but decided against keeping it that way. He left it hanging around his face in a more normal fashion, partly obscuring the view of face and thus giving him a sense of anonymity. Perfect. The pants and tunic fit relatively well, once he’d pulled his wings and tail back into his body and out of sight, and the belt kept them both in place enough that it didn’t look obvious that they’d belonged to a larger person. Just another poor soul on the streets late at night.
Cain looked up at the sky just past the tops of the closest houses. It was getting brighter. Early morning then. He stood there admiring the way the sun ate away at the darkness far in the distance, freeing the world from the dark he had grown so used to when he first came to. It was both disconcerting and thrilling to see something new. He felt a sense of awe as red trails of light split the dark sky slowly but surely. His admiration for the dawning sun was cut short when the most horrible sound he’d ever heard split the silence.
A shrill, coughing screech hacked apart the quiet morning with stunning efficiency. Cain stood stunned after the sound ended, then flinched as it repeated itself. In the distance he could hear a dog bark groggily at the offender. A third cry shut the dog up instantly. Cain shuddered. Whatever made that noise, he decided not to seek it out. Instead he walked out of the alley, took a left, and started making his way down a street in the opposite direction from where he heard the noise. On his way he noticed several people wearing arms and uniforms of some kind, guards, something told him. He had no idea where the knowledge came from, but he was grateful for it nonetheless. He kept his head down as he passed the guards lazing in front of a large building, and slipped out of sight down the corner of the street.
A oppressive presence ahead of him made him turn down another street, avoiding whatever it was to the best of his ability. Somewhere the rooster screamed again. There might have been a prettier word for the way a rooster cries at dawn, but Cain couldn’t imagine any other word than ‘scream’ to describe the racket he was hearing. Somewhere someone agreed with him, very verbally. The rooster smacked the complaint down just as easily as it had the dog. Cain sped up his pace.
A large, open area opened up past another line of houses. People milled about sluggishly, setting up stalls or chatting with other morning people, both voluntary ones and involuntary ones. Dawn spared no busy worker. He saw a lean, blond man open a door and set out a sign. Curious, Cain drew closer to read what it said.
‘Adrian Hendrickson. Blacksmith, whitesmith, and enchanter. Get your adventuring gear here!’
The sign was written with large, swirling letters that gave Cain a sense of elegance, and perhaps a little arrogance. The way the ink shimmered to catch the eye whenever the sun hit it spoke of more than just shiny paint. Who enchants a sign?
“Hello there! Fancy some equipment? You’re in luck then. As the first customer of the day I’ll give you a discount on any low tier gear.”
The smith, Adrian presumably, beamed a brilliant smile at Cain from the entrance to his shop. Cain blinked, then noted the way the blond man’s pupils were dilating and how his nostrils flared. The sweet scent that followed Cain was still clinging to the air around him, and Adrian was clearly affected. Before Cain could answer he found a hand on his back, a bit too far down, and soon he was pulled into the shop as Adrian babbled on about quality crafts and morning crowds.
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The inside of the shop was just as elegant and cleaned up as the sign outside. Carved shelves displayed weapons and armor of intricate design, a faint hum of magic clinging to the shinier pieces. Cain stared in awe at the pretty metals, at the plush red carpet covering the floor, the polished wood making up the furniture. A long counter stood at the back of the room, decorated with tools only placed there for looks, rings and jewelry shimmering with enchantments, and a stack of parchment lying next to a black ink pot with a feathered pen sticking out of it.
Adrian noticed the impressed stare, and took his time leading Cain around to see various objects. He babbled on like a merchant groveling for a noble, words quick and knowing and full of charisma. Cain found himself stumbling for words. His lack of knowledge and the new environment left him grasping for straws, completely at the mercy of the merchant’s experienced preaching.
“And if you look here, a fine gauntlet made of a silver alloy meant to ward of demons. Not changelings you might ask? No no, demons are a subspecies of them, just as powerful as your average monster, but twice as tricky to fight. Resistances and regeneration makes them a pain to handle for the new adventurer. Specialized equipment is a must if you wish to pursue the higher quests.”
Cain shied back from the gauntlet as soon as he saw it. The almost white metal had been polished to shine, and the fingers ended in pointed claws that made him want to cover his throat. Adrian blinked as Cain moved back and into him, mistaking the movement for something else judging by how his already wandering hand snaked its way around Cain’s waist. Cain could feel his magic dulling Adrian’s mind, despite his focus being entirely on the gauntlet and getting further away from it.
The smith smiled wolfishly and let Cain draw him away from the shelf with the gauntlet. When the redheaded man stopped moving Adrian pushed. Cain blinked as he found the counter meeting the back of his legs, not having registered how far they moved until now. Adrian’s unfocused eyes met his as the smith turned around to trap him against the counter, hands finding his sides with the trembling touch of an addict. He felt hot breaths hit his face as the smith leaned closer, one hand wandering along his side and up to his face to keep him in place. A pang of hunger hit Cain as the blond leaned in to kiss him, back aching with the desire to let his wings unfurl and envelop them both.
He was just about to give in to the instinct when the bell above the door chimed and a noisy group of people strolled in. They were all armed, but lacked the uniform of guards and were far too relaxed and rowdy to be army people. Cain pushed Adrian back, bitter frustration filling his head as the kiss was broken and the man stumbled back. The group at the door paused at the sight, then a few of them hooted and laughed. Adrian’s face colored as he straightened up and tried to blink the daze from his eyes.
While the smith attempted to shush the adventurers, Cain slipped past him towards the door. A woman with a bow gave him a thumbs up as he hurried past the group and back out of the shop. He could hear Adrian make an attempt at diverting their attention to his wares as he left.
The bright morning sun met him as he returned to the plaza, much brighter now that the sun had gotten some time to rise. Cain pulled his hood back in place and stalked down a random street to avoid the growing morning crowd. New sounds, smells, and sights rose all around him as he curiously drifted closer to the market place being set up. The morning crowd was a mix of tired, grumpy people, and the unnaturally energic creatures called morning people smiling at anyone catching their eye.
Cain watched coins changing hands and wares being traded back and forth all around, slowly filling in gaps in those memories he wasn’t entirely sure were his own. He had basic knowledge of many things, yet everything he saw he saw for the first time and the experience both amazed and disoriented him. It was like getting deja vú from seeing something someone had once told him about, except that no one had ever told him things before he woke up in the alley… Had they?
His head ached when he thought harder on in, as if the answer didn’t want to be found. He vaguely remembered drifting around in the void- no the Underground, that’s what it was called. Black and comforting darkness filled with barely seen moving things. The state of being stuck in a dream when your body starts waking up. Blind, but aware. And the shapes had told him things hadn’t they? Whispers and dreams of their own as they waited, sharing in what they knew, thought, and heard. One big, shared mind, stuck, incomplete and divided enough to feel. What a frightening place.
Cain felt the lull of that silent place dull his body, mind yearning to go back to that endless expanse just as much as it feared it. He was free now, and limited, but much closer to being complete. So far from comfort. His thoughts twisted around uncertainty, unable to make up its mind. Around him the eyes of the crowd grew distant as his magic seeped into the air. A hand reached out from a group, seemingly without its owner thinking much of it, and grabbed hold of Cain’s cloak. The sudden resistance made Cain nearly lose his balance. He blinked and turned around to see what grabbed him, and was met with a empty, yet intent and hungry stare. First now did he realize how sweet the air smelled, how much of his pheromones he’d been emitting while lost in thought.
The man that grabbed him made an attempt to pull him closer. Realizing that the people far away enough to not have been caught up by his scent were turning to look or already staring made images of shocked and angry crowds flood the demon’s mind. He saw fires, sharp sounds, and glimmering metal that would burn if he let it touch him in those eyes, promises of what revealing his true self out here would bring.
Startled, Cain jerked back and twisted his cloak out of the man’s hands. The stranger didn’t react for several seconds, then slowly he unclenched his fists and looked at them numbly. Further away Cain could her murmured questions. He made an effort to reign in his magic, stopping the flow of pheromones from reaching the crowd. The man that had grabbed him earlier blinked then frowned. Before the people closest to him could shake off the haze Cain made his escape. He pulled his hood down over his face and weaved past people as fast as he dared towards a random street. Behind him he could hear someone approach the man and ask “Who was that? Are you okay?” Cain walked faster.
His rushing heart didn’t slow down until he ducked into a street, away from the open plaza and the market. No one paid him much attention as he continued down the road and took turns seemingly at random just to make some distance. That had startled him. He didn’t know how easy it would be to slip up and get discovered. The things that could happen if he was… Cain pulled his cloak a bit closer around him. He would have to be careful from now on.
Nodding to himself in determination, Cain put some energy into his steps and smiled. He’d blend in and stay low, just another human in a human town doing human things. What sort of human things he was less sure of, but something normal and mundane for sure. Deep in thought once more, Cain accidently walked right into the person walking in front of him.
A much taller man yelped and turned around just in time for Cain to nearly fall on his ass. Embarrassed and still a bit worked up from earlier, Cain stuttered a apology and tried his best attempt at a friendly smile. What met him was bright yellow eyes staring at him like a wolf eyes a rabbit. He felt a shiver run up his spine as those eyes locked onto him, unblinking and intent. The dilated pupils and half open mouth was all the clue Cain needed that he’d snared another one without meaning to, and this one had gone from zero to a hundred almost instantly for some reason.
The taller man didn’t move, despite the almost crazed hunger shining in his eyes. Despite the warning bells in Cain’s head ringing louder than a rooster, the unexpected behaviour made a clear demand to Cain’s curiosity. He felt nearly as enthralled as the other looked, curious about the way the man’s eyes glowed and how his body shifted with both purpose and strength. This here was a predator, and something within the demon was absolutely thrilled with the idea of testing his might against it. What strength did this person hold? Could he devour it like he had the human this morning? How strong of a hold would his magic get, and what effect would it draw forth?
Unable to resist, Cain reached out to touch the man’s face, his fingers longing to close around the other’s neck and entwine themselves in those dark dreads. To get a hold of him and control him completely with his magic, dominating his every move and absorbing his strength slowly.
A sound of metal clirring against metal cut through the air like a drum in a silent room. Cain flinched back from the sound just before he could put his hands around Rowan’s face. The painfully loud sound rang out again, like coins on a string but with the volume of the sound turned up to the max. Cain stared wildly at both directions of the street for the source of the sound, cold fear gripping his heart as it rang out again.
Down one end of the street he spotted the source, a white haired man clad in silken robes and golden ornaments. Each sound the golden discs strung up on a belt around the man’s waist cut Cain’s ears like a knife. The sound was far too loud, and no one else on the street seemed aware of it, at least not the busy passerbys or the stunned Rowan. Cain let out a startled little hiss as the priest walked closer, still unaware of what was going on thanks to a passing cart partly blocking the view. The clirr of metal rung out again, and this time Cain felt it physically push his magic back. Rowan trembled as the pheromones lost its hold and stumbled back against the wall of a house. Cain looked back at him as Rowan blinked and put a hand to his head, frustration tying a knot in his chest as he realized he wouldn’t get to take this one here and now.
The demon made a angry sound and pulled his hood down, then hurried off in the opposite direction of the priest. Just in time too it seemed, because just as he rounded a corner and got out of sight he heard the man call out.
“Rowan?”
Cain felt anger coil in his chest as the clirring sound made him flinch again. How dare someone get in his way like that?! A small voice at the back of his head whispered a name. Katrina, the goddess of humanity and enemy of his kind. A priest then? The shrill sound of metal bumping against metal made Cain’s skin crawl, still loud and painful even as he got further away. A priest of Katrina, dangerous even when unaware just because of the blessed metal he wore. Cain remembered the silver gauntlet in Hendrickson’s shop and felt nausea build up. He didn’t know why, but both that gauntlet and the metal ornaments the priest wore disturbed him to the core. He could still feel the oppressive presence that forced back his magic back where he left it, bright and merciless. A shudder of disgust made Cain grimace as he turned down another street, finally feeling the sound of the priest’s trinkets grow less deafening.
The image of those bright yellow eyes flashed through his mind again. He didn’t know why, but that person had been someone strong, someone special, and he’d been so close to claiming them for himself. If only that priest hadn’t arrived… Cain felt the urge to spit and hiss at the mere memory of the priest.
“...Next time” he mumbled to himself, getting a few funny looks from a passing group. He might get another chance, actually, he probably would. After all, chances were the yellow eyed man lived in the settlement, which meant that if Cain could find where he lived or where he went during the day he would get plenty of chances to lure him off somewhere. Somewhere far away from any intervening priests with their terrible golden trinkets and oppressive auras. Yes, if only he bided his time and kept his eyes open, he would get another shot at the strange man, then he could find out what made that one unique. A greedy smile spread across Cain’s face as he thought of what he would do once he had a plan and pulled it through.
As he lost himself in thought the sweet scent of his magic returned to the air, making people passing him blink and pause. As a stray dog stood up and ran over with the intent to hump his leg, Cain decided that getting his magic under control would be the first thing to focus on.