“Species of Demonkin differ one from another, sometimes to the point of unrecognizability, but they all love fire and heat. When serving a meal to one, you can use various spices; use of open flames for food making is also preferred. They may even offer help in that regard. But be careful not to burn yourself. Those who play with Demonkin, tend to get burned.”
̶ How to Avoid Death on a Daily Basis, Alastor Moody, 900 AS
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The tables have been set, the guests have arrived, the Garden is perfect, and we are serving dinner to the Demon. Why does something not fit in this scenario? I look towards the main table, reserved for my sister and him, and I can’t help but wonder: Where does he fit all of that food?
He’s eating food for at least for 3 people, foodstuff just going into his mouth, disappearing through the endless hole of his stomach. He still manages to look dignified while eating; he’s even using utensils!
“This chicken you have is delicious! Can we get some live ones? How large do they get?”
And then he displays a lack of some basic knowledge. The things he mentions are completely new concepts to us, and he seems baffled by some ordinary things we have.
“Kozzok, is the Hellboar ready?”
The servant appears, out of nowhere again.
“Yes, master; would you like to announce it?”
“They have shown me such great foods today; it is only natural that we return the favor.”
At that the Demon stands up and everyone in the crowd is silenced. All plates are down, the chatting dies out, and even the animals don’t dare make noise. How does he manage to do that?
“Greetings, esteemed guests. You have shown me great hospitality today, and I would like to introduce you to one of my homeland’s delicacies in return. If you have been present at the ceremony” at which point there is a collective shudder “you know about the Sacrificial Beast I have brought. My cooks have prepared the meat and would like to serve it now.”
He makes a simple gesture with his fingers and out come trays of food pushed on carts by his servants – female Demons. How do I know they are female? Well it’s simple; I have yet to see a Human woman that is that well-endowed in the chest area. Is this the part of his tricks as well? Press the guests with some breasts then slaughter us all?
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He’s eating so much, he even compensated for my lost appetite. I just rummage through my food-filled plate trying to muster to eat; worrying excessively has been bad for my stomach.
“At least try the Hellboar. My cooks have prepared it many times, it always comes out great. Also, the meat is said to not fatten at all.” He winks cunningly. Is he trying to charm me, or calling me fat? I look completely normal for a girl my age. Sure, my training has brought out some muscles, but some men like that. I don’t suppose he would understand anyway. What can he possibly know about me?
The plate of food in front of me, a tender piece of meat served with some spices on top. At least it looks appetizing. I cut off a bite and slowly inch it to my mouth, as if it will come alive any second now.
The meat is flavourful, tender, juicy even. I get a glimpse of that feeling I had when drinking the blood at the Altar. That incredible warmth, vitality, security. It is almost addictive. I slowly take more bites of the meal, each piece bringing that feeling slowly, somehow replenishing my energy with every bite I take.
Before I know it, I’ve already eaten the whole portion. I almost feel sad that there isn’t any more. Maybe I can ask him for more? I bet he would want something in return. I can’t give in to him. I won’t give in. But that warmth; that embrace I felt when Mother would hold me to sleep; that happiness when I would pass a challenge given to me by my combat instructor.
“Can I… have more please?”
He looks at me like I have three heads. Wait, do Demons sometimes have three heads? Will I meet one in my life now? His surprised gaze drops and he answers plainly.
“Sure, just don’t have too many, you are overloading your channels with that meat.”
My what? Channels? Could he be talking about magical energy? Does this meat have mana in it?
“Wait, this meat has mana?”
“Of course. Oh, yours doesn’t. No wonder why the food feels unfulfilling.”
“Does every kind of food you eat have mana?”
“No, just some. Hellboars are especially rich in it. The farmers take very good care of their diet and environment for that.”
“That thing is… farmed? It’s livestock?”
“Yeah? You can find it almost anywhere, I brought a small one with me; an adult Hellboar would probably not fit through those doors in the Church anyway.”
They raise that at their farms? And that huge things is not even fully grown? How does that even work? Goddess protect me, I’m going to my death soon.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
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“And now, for the First Dance!”
Ooh, a dance. I’ve tried practicing those. Let’s see, they said something about a waltz, the onetwothree steps, the feet joining… Ugh I can’t remember. Whatever, let’s just try our best, today is the day for fun.
My bride seems worried about something. I can’t play these children’s guessing games with her now.
“Shall we?” I take of my gauntlets; it’s the only thing I can take off separately other than my helmet. Maybe some armour improvements are needed in the country.
She takes my hand sheepishly and we move towards what seems to the stage they set for the dance. The Garden looks too green for my liking, and the white tables don’t help. The plants didn’t try to eat me once, though!
The crowd around us makes way, only two of us standing. Maybe I shouldn’t have eaten that food. I accelerate my stomach working, I’ve remembered some moves are particularly nauseating.
Alright let’s prod a little for some help.
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The Demon looks directly in my eyes, as if he’s looking for something. A headache starts close to my eyes, surging pain crossing my sight, as if someone is poking my head with a knife. Suddenly, the pain goes as he came, with only a sliver of memory serving as proof of its existence.
The music starts.
He takes my hands, slowly, gently, as if he were holding a flower, his rough palms pressing against the entirety of my hands. Despite his large stature, his hooves are as small as my feet, the sight once again almost comical to me.
He takes the first step. I follow. The song moves, and we flow with the notes, both of us trembling with excitement, yet the peace of the tune steadying our steps, as we dance in unison. Suddenly he surges backwards, letting me fall without any support, his hands grabbing only thin air. Then, I am caught, his tail wrapping around my waist as he grants me balance again, and the cadence starts again.
We dance for what it seems to be hours, the slow pace of the song bringing sadness with it, slowly bringing me to the final realization. He is going to take me away from this place, from this life. He lives completely differently than I, and he is giving me this final experience. He is giving me this peace, this serenity, for the last time in my life. Am I ever going to see these people again? Will he let me go; or will he lock me up and use me as he pleases? Will I be reduced to nothing but a common ornament, to be used and presented at his whim?
The tears flow down my cheeks as we dance to the tune, the day slowly passing, the Sun ceasing to shine, the Moons already on the horizon. My wails reach no one but me, for he most likely won’t care. A Demon is a Demon. MY Demon.
Is he my Demon, or am I his Human?
What happens after the dance, does he take me in his arms, and carry me away? Where do I go? Do they practice First Night as well? Will he take me against my wishes and claim my innocence? Will he bother trying to be gentle, or will he play with me like with some gruesome toy? Will I be forced to carry his children, if I can even do so?
My Dear Goddess, help this ignorant child, guide her, and save her from the atrocities that await her.
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The Mind Link is working.
I can feel it all.
The fear, the uncertainty, the sadness, the helplessness, the prayers to her Goddess she so fervently tries to call.
Does she think so little of me? Do they all think so little of us? We are different, but we are not emotionless. We may be twisted, but we are not deformed. We have desires, we have needs, but we have empathy, we can feel so much as well.
Humans have fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear of the darkness, fear of death. Yet they crave war, they crave blood, they seek perfection that can never be, unity that can never happen. Their minds crave for knowledge, but they fear the consequences. Their bodies want lust, but fear pain. They train to get strong, but take pleasure in abusing the weak.
She fears her life, but it is only hers to control, only hers to guide, her own path to make. No Gods ever guide. They protect, they give, they take, they signal, but they don’t guide. You must not follow Gods; you’ll get devoured should you try. The Fallen have taught us that much.
Can I teach her? Can I guide her to happiness? Is this what I was meant to do? The series of events leading me to a fragile existence that needs me?
Will she let me? Will she try taking off her shell and showing what is deep inside? Am I worthy enough to know that? In all these many years, am I finally worthy for something? I was not worthy for the throne, they cast out my blood. I was not worthy for my wife, she sought for something I was not. I was not worthy for my children, I had to bury them already. Am I worthy of this lonely Human?
The Mind Link is working. It is working too well.