A tragedy has befallen…

A wanderer in the demonlands in strange clothing, strands of platinum blonde hair and pointed ears poking out from the wrappings on her head, had encountered a strange scene. The sight of ruined, burned houses made for a stark contrast with the serene river and hills surrounding her.

This distinct trace of magic in the air would be the work of none other than the humans of the Church. What in the spirits’ name have they done this time?

Examining the destruction around her, she guessed the time frame in which this apparent massacre had occurred. At most, a week since then.

A week since these events. I can indeed call upon the spirits to recount them.

The wanderer began praying to the spirits, imploring them to show her how the incidents played out. She watched with sorrow as the memories of that night laid themselves out in front of her.

Taking demons captive… what could they be up to?

Her eyes were then drawn to a white-haired boy, with small black wings sprouting from his back, fleeing from the village.

White hair… Black wings… A boy of the Vasalic clan?

The events of that night concluded, leaving the wanderer back at the ruins of the village. A figure hunched over the pile of burnt corpses caught her eye. It was a woman with auburn hair, on her knees, her hand on the mutilated corpse of a man.

A human woman… was she living among these demons?

“Oh… Ersham…”

The wanderer walked up next to the grieving woman, who grew cautious at her arrival. She hoped to alleviate this woman’s sadness, perhaps by clarifying that tragic night’s events.

“Apologies, I wish you no harm. What’s your name, stranger?”

The human woman furrowed her brows before taking a close look at the wanderer’s golden eyes. The serene air and earnest words of the wanderer made the woman want to drop her guard.

“I’m Helena. I used to live in this village. Before I found it destroyed.”

“I see, Helena. Did you have a family?”

“…Yes. I had a husband as well as a daughter and nephew. There was also a close friend of mine, a human woman, and she had her own son here.”

The wanderer gazed briefly at the body Helena had wept over, recognizing it from the reconstructed memories despite the state of the corpse.

“I see. That human woman you called your friend is… unfortunately dead.”

Helena’s expression briefly crumbled into grief before hardening back again into a stone-cold neutral expression.

“But your daughter and nephew, the ones your husband had fought to protect, they live yet. But taken captive by those of the Church. And the son of your friend yet lives as well, though he has wandered deep into the north, beyond the mountains.”

A cautious hope made its way onto Helena’s face.

“How… just how do you know this?”

“I asked the spirits to show me so. See, I have good ears for listening to them.”

The wanderer gestured to her long, pointed ears.

“Truly? They’re alive?” Hopeful tears flowed down Helena’s face. “I… thank you for telling me this.”

“A pleasure, Helena. I wish you reunion in the near future with them.”

The wanderer walked away. The human woman knelt back beside the corpse of her husband. Weeping once more, she swore then and there to her husband that she would do anything to get them back, to wrest them from the bloody hands of that Church.

Even if she had to confront her past, kill her emotions and become the Goddess of Death once more.

***

The wanderer made her way north, traveling alone through the harsh wastelands. In the middle of her journey, a nine-headed serpent-like beast emerged, slithering in front of her. Its crimson eyes glared at her with intense hatred.

A hydra… These monsters continue yet to grow more and more powerful. This world is running out of time. And those eyes seem familiar.

Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

The elven woman pointed her left hand forwards. A magic circle appeared in front of her, its patterns active with the circulation of the wanderer’s potent mana. As the wanderer grasped her hand on the middle of the circle and twisted it, a spell activated.

Endless arrows of light came down from the heavens, descending upon the hydra. The monster collapsed onto the ground, pinned by thousands of arrows made up of pure energy. With her right hand, she activated another magic circle.

“[Annihilation]”

A pillar of light rose from the ground beneath the hydra, piercing the clouds in the sky, reducing the hydra’s body to pure ashes. As the wanderer finished her spell, she couldn’t help but notice some form of magical energy escaping the ashy remains of the hydra. As if a piece of its soul left its body, returning to wander for another vessel once more. She made to grab it, but it slipped away from her.

The wanderer continued her journey, eventually arriving at the Citadel. A massive walled city, bounded by mountains from the rear. Dry farmlands sprawled outside the walls. Up in the mountains, the upper district cut into the slope of the mountains, some houses being carved from the mountains themselves. And high above all else was the castle.

The elven wanderer walked up to the gates, guarded by demons with scaly wings, fully clad in armor. One of them came up to her, stopping her with a loud voice.

“Halt, foreigner! What is your purpose for entering the Citadel?”

The wanderer simply made to point to her ears while uttering a single phrase.

“To pay my old friend Tareh a visit.”

“Wait. Are you perhaps…”

“Mmm-hmm!”

The elf’s ears twitched affirmatively, having known what the guard’s question would ask.

“Apologies for my ignorance. Please enjoy your time here in the Citadel.”

The heavy gates of the stone walls opened, revealing the bustling city within. Midday markets were filled with merchants trying to sell their wares and crowds shopping from the stalls. Groups of demon children ran around with shrill, playful jeers and cries. In the tight streets lined with half-timbered buildings, various demons of different shapes and sizes walked about, with the occasional horse-drawn wagon amidst them.

The wanderer looked at the scenery around her with a sincere smile; she always enjoyed seeing the sights of this city Tareh had dedicated his life to. But she continued, climbing the staircases leading her to the middle district then the upper district and finally to the palace.

The palace guards, catching sight of the approaching elven wanderer, made to open the doors. The wanderer walked through the palace, completely familiar with its layout, dismissing attendants who came up to her with a firm but gentle no, before reaching the main hall.

On the throne at the end of the hall sat the Demon General Tareh, his still yet youthful face framed with long, white hair. The black wings at his back remained folded as he sat watching the wanderer approach.

“Yvette. Good to have you visit,” Tareh said.

“Likewise, old friend. You still haven’t aged in all this time,” Yvette said affably, standing not far before the Demon General.

“You’re one to say that. You’re as beautiful and fair as always!”

“Don’t push it, Tareh. I’m not looking to be added to your collection, you playboy.”

“Please, I could never. What brings you to visit? Judging by how you simply strolled in here, it must be important.”

“Yes. I’ve completed my studies and I believe I’ve managed to develop a successful way to circumvent miasma production in the casting of demonic arts.”

Tareh went silent, his playful smile breaking into a serious, pondering expression, his left hand absentmindedly scratching at his chin.

“…Truly?”

“I believe so. I can spend the next month or so teaching it to you as well as to others you trust here in your palace, though I believe it’ll be an arduous task. It’s quite the demanding technique.”

“That doesn’t matter, this alone changes everything, Yvette. I cannot truly thank you enough.”

The Demon General rose from his throne, approached the wanderer and bowed his head deeply.

“No need for such formal gratitude. This was always a goal of mine, and it made for fascinating research.”

“For the first time in centuries, demons might be able to use their magic once more. You might cause a war, you know that?”

“Please don’t. And in the case you do, I’ll have to take responsibility and wipe all of you out.”

“Hahaha! Of course! If I end up like that, feel free, old friend!”

Tareh paced around, laughing heartily in response to the elf’s words.

“Truly, the demons owe you endless gratitude. You may have saved the fate of my kind.”

“Well, if you go on to build an academy to create a new generation of demon mages, take care to make a place for me then. Nothing has infatuated me more than demonic magic.”

“Of course.”

The Demon General went up to sit on his throne once more.

“I’ll make preparations for you to stay here then. It’ll be nice having you here with us once more.”

“I have other news to bring as well, on a less joyful note.”

“Please, do tell.”

“It seems the Church has ravaged the horned demons’ village, taking captive most of its residents. Worse yet, there seems to be the existence of mages who can use divine magic yet again.”

Tareh closed his eyes, the fingers of his right hand massaging his forehead.

“Clara’s village…”

“Tareh?”

“…Yes. I heard you. That is indeed tragic news. I’ve sat here within my walls for too long, foreign to the outside world, nothing but a relic of a time long gone, unlike you.”

The demon craned his neck, looking upwards as if to gaze at the heavens.

“Ironic for Demon General Tareh himself to be left behind by time, no?” asked Yvette.

“With your new findings regarding demonic casting, that’ll change soon though,” the demon said with a smile. “So the Church has been scurrying around, then, huh? Perhaps it’s time for me to reunite the demons. Though, if I may be honest, I don’t see myself as fit for the task. And with most of the land we live on being harsh wastelands covered in miasma, that’ll be an uphill battle.”

“Regarding that, the next step of my research was to find a way to get rid of miasma completely.”

“Truly? I can only believe such an incredible claim from your lips. Hmph, at this rate, you are but just asking to be our messiah,” Tareh said, amused. “Are you familiar with the traditional beliefs of demons, Yvette?”

The elf shook her head.

“We believe the world is always in an eternal struggle between that which is good and that which is evil. But, in the final days, the one who brings good, the Saoschjant, shall bring an end to machinations of that which is evil,” Tareh locked eyes with the elf. “You have done too much for us for nothing in exchange.”

“It's my pleasure. But I’m no legendary savior,” the elven wanderer said firmly. “I am just someone repaying her debt, still letting herself be pulled along by the words of the dead.”

“I suppose. That would make the two of us.”

The two remained in a comfortable silence.

“Oh, and I almost forgot. Did you happen to bear a son with a human?” the elf asked suddenly.