The sound of rain drifted like fog into his consciousness. Feeling numb, Rosomil opened his eyes and blinked a few times. While there was daylight filtering in though the windows, it felt cold and distant. Confused, he took note of his surroundings and realised that he was back in Castle Gabáuan. In fact, he wasn’t just back in the castle but inside his bedchambers, wearing one of the soft nightgowns he owned.
The dream, more memory than nightly escape, was still floating through his mind like a cloud across the sky. It had been a long time since he had dreamt, let alone thought about his childhood. Most of it had become a blur with time, but this dream had forced a lot to resurface.
The dream of his childhood was pushed aside by the recent memories of his fight against Lodwin and the angel.
Panic and anxiety settled in.
His heart started to beat up his throat, forcing him to sit up with shaking hands.
Unbidden images forced themselves into the forefront of his thoughts and made his whole chest tighten as well his eyes burn.
Rosomil gasped for air as if he were about to drown. He had felt how his eyes had been burned out of their sockets. How they had molten and ran over his face. While it had been painless, he was certain that he shouldn’t be able to see but…
Without really wanting to, Rosomil breathed his demon's true name, which resulted in a groan right beside his bed. Startled, he turned towards it and found it sitting on a chair. Its shape looked chaotic and unstructured. As if someone had put tar on it and dumped load after load of black, iridescent feathers on it. The only parts free were the snow-white face and the grey scaled left arm, as well as the equally scaled bird-feet.
“You’re awake”, it said, its voice raspy and strained. “How are you?”
“Tense…”, he answered, and didn’t know what else to say.
The silence was suffocating.
“I see”, it said after a few moments. “I do hope you don’t mind me ignoring your order to keep out of your bedchambers.”
“What has happened in Eldebourg?”, he asked, and moved into a proper sitting position.
“A Divine Intervention”, it answered after a moment. “It seems the angel was interfering without the Lord’s blessing, so to speak, and they got punished for it. I was able to heal your damage by using a considerable amount of the life-force you’ve gathered so far. I do apologies about this as well.”
“What about Lodwin?”
“I don’t know but, judging by the nature of his contract, the blast must’ve injured him gravely despite him not being as close as we were. Perhaps he and the goat demon were killed.”
“Are you certain?”
“No”, replied the demon after an agonisingly long moment and shifted on the chair, which resulted in a pained hiss.
“What about you?”, Rosomil asked and pushed the blanket away to stand up.
“Nothing, master”, it replied in a whisper. “You needn’t concern yourself with me. I do only wish to request a few more days of rest.”
“Show me your arm”, he said harsher than he had intended to, right in front of it.
“You can see my arm plain and simple or have your eyes not healed properly?”, the demon replied in a weak attempt at mockery.
“Please, show me your right arm”, he insisted softer.
“Well, I doubt you’ll enjoy the sight.”
“Cease your jabs at me and what you consider clever remarks, I want to help you.”
At this, the demon perked up a bit and looked at him for the first time since he had woken up. If it were a human, he was certain, it would die sooner rather than later. There was almost no colour in its face beyond its crimson eyes, which seemed duller than usual.
“This won’t be pretty”, it said, and reached its arm out from underneath the mountain of feathers.
Rosomil took a step away out of pure instinct.
The arm looked like it was rotting. Sinew, flesh, and bone were on display and discoloured. The flaky grey skin, where still present, seemed like it had been boiled off the arm. The only positive was the lack of smell such a wound would usually emit. But it did weep and oozed a dark, foul looking liquid.
“By God!”, he gasped involuntary and stepped closer again. “Can’t you heal it?”
“It heals on its own”, the demon replied, and pulled the arm back with some difficulty — it couldn’t even move the mangled fingers. “In this world, I can’t heal such a wound faster with my magic without wasting more precious energy.”
Rosomil turned away and headed to a wooden chest right next to his writing desk. He opened it and after rummaging around it, he pulled some ointments and bandages out of it. All the while, he could feel the demon’s eyes on his back, following his every movement.
“This won’t be necessary”, it said, with gentle amusement in its voice.
“Can you be certain about that?”, he asked thoughtful and stood up. “Perhaps it’ll help.”
The demon remained silent and its face unreadable. Still, as he approached it, it reached its mangled arm without further question once more towards him. Rosomil examined the wound, silent and methodical. Once he felt confident enough to touch parts of it, the demon held him back.
“My blood acts corrosive”, it said and pulled the arm back a bit despite being clearly in pain.
“Then I won’t be able to bandage you”, he said, slightly annoyed that it hadn’t told him sooner.
“Not if you put some of my feathers between the bandage and the wound”, it explained, and ripped a fistful of them out.
Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.
Rosomil was less than enthused about this but took the feathers nonetheless. Immediately he started to spread the ointment on them, which was a staple among the medicine the Order always used. It not only kept wounds from festering, it also cooled the areas and helped heal open injuries caused by magic.
Once he had coated a feather, he sticked it under the demon’s watchful albeit tired gaze to the wound until he had covered everything. Then he warped the bandage around the arm and fastened it with a special knot, which had been one of the first things he had learned in the Order.
“Thank you”, the demon mumbled and lost consciousness a heartbeat later.
On one hand, Rosomil was happy it didn’t see his blushing face, on the other, this sudden slip of consciousness startled him. Slow, he placed its injured arm back on what he suspected to be its lap, then he stepped closer and looked at it for a moment.
Involuntary, he reached for the pallid face until his fingertips touched cold soft skin. With a gentle movement, he brushed a loose strand of hair between the demon’s pointed ear and some of the feathers growing closer to its head. Despite the clear inhuman features, he saw it for a moment not as it. Since it was wearing its seemingly true feminine looking face, he felt that “she” would be appropriate, but before he could truly accept this change in perspective, someone knocked at the door.
“What is it?!”, he asked angry and stepped towards it to unlock it.
Behind the massive wooden door stood Offilo. He looked rattled and barely managed to keep the plates with a simple breakfast on the tray he was carrying.
“What are you doing here?”, asked Rosomil, the boy with narrowed eyes.
“G-good morning, my Lord”, he replied timid. “I bring you the breakfast as instructed by your demon.”
“Come in and place it on the nightstand”, he said, and stepped aside. “Once you’ve done this, I need your help.”
“My help?”, asked Offilo confused and looked at him with big blue eyes.
“Don’t just stand there”, ordered Rosomil with a stern look. “Do as I say, and then you’ll see.”
“Y-yes, my Lord!”, he replied and entered the bedchamber.
Rosomil did notice how he stopped a moment in front of the sleeping demon before he hastily placed the plate on the nightstand. Tired of this, he closed the door and stepped beside the boy.
“You’ll help me carry it into the bed”, he told Offilo, who flinched at either the prospect of touching the demon or carrying it alongside Rosomil.
“Is she badly hurt?”, he asked, mumbling.
“Her… right arm got burned badly”, he answered without thinking. “I bandaged it.”
Without further holds ups, Offilo went to the demon’s feet, while Rosomil stepped beside it.
“Take its legs”, he told Offilo, while carefully pushing his hands under the demon’s upper arms. “Stay mindful of the claws. On the count of three, we lift at the same time. Understood?”
“Yes, my Lord”, he replied concentrated, which made Rosomil smile despite himself.
“One… Two… Three!”
The demon was surprisingly lightweight, which Rosomil was grateful for. He also hadn’t pulled the covers back down, so it wasn’t too difficult to get it into the bed. To his surprise, the demon just let out a soft sigh once they had placed it down. At the same time, Offilo made a step backwards and watched Rosomil with a tense expression.
“Wait outside, while I get dressed”, he told him.
“Yes, my Lord”, the boy replied and went out the door without another question.
Rosomil watched the closed door for a few moments, then he took a deep breath and looked once more at the demon. It seemed to be in such a deep sleep, it almost appeared dead. The bandages around its arm looked like a beacon amidst the sea of black feathers. But what drew Rosomil’s attention in the most was the serine pale face.
“Her…”, he murmured, thinking about the ease with which Offilo had used this word.
A heartbeat later, his mind wandered back to the memory of the dream he had about the demon some nights ago. The ghost of it still lingered on his skin, along a deep-seated desire. As if sleepwalking, he moved closer, his hand outstretched, reaching for the demon's porcelain face. Hasty, he pulled his hand back and turned his gaze away.
“What am I thinking?”, he asked himself, murmuring.
This was going too far for his liking. With a rather rough movement, he threw the covers over the demon and closed a few of the curtains of the bed. With jittery motions, he got himself dressed and left the room without looking back.
Outside, just as he had ordered, stood Offilo. The boy flinched as Rosomil approached him with a stern expression.
“Sire?”, said Offilo reluctant.
“What’s the matter, boy?”, he replied, as he didn’t continue. “Speak up.”
“It’s not my place to ask but… What has exactly happened three days ago?”
“Three days?”, said Rosomil shocked and started to move towards the throne room. “Three whole days?”
“Y-yes, my Lord. Your demon arrived three days ago in the morning with you unconscious and gravely… wounded in her arms. She didn’t look too well either, but before Primus or Duodecum could assist, she healed you and brought you into your chambers. While she had asked me to bring breakfast every day, she hadn’t let me or anyone else in for the matter. She just instructed me to knock and leave the food in front of the door, and return an hour later to take the empty plates back.”
For a moment, Rosomil considered his words.
“Has the demon eaten it?”, he asked, thoughtful.
“I guess she has”, replied Offilo uncertain. “I never asked her if she needed something.”
“Then continue to bring it food”, he replied and stopped for a moment.
“Yes, my Lord”, Offilo replied and half bowed. “Is there anything else, I can do for you?”
Rosomil considered his question while looking out of a nearby window. Rain was still running along the glass. The landscape beyond it was only visible as a greenish-grey mass.
“What about Eldebourg?”, he asked in a low voice.
“Duodecum has sent a few Dark Priests to take care of everything there until further notice”, answered Offilo, tense. “As far as I know, they haven’t found anything beyond the molten stone in the castle courtyard.”
“Molten stone…”, he murmured and felt a shiver run down his spine.
“Is something wrong, my Lord?”
“Everything’s wrong”, he said, and looked with a stern expression at the boy, who grew smaller beneath his gaze. “I need to survey the damage. Best I… No. I can’t…”
“My Lord?”, asked Offilo timidly.
Rosomil ignored him for the moment and continued to look outside. Many conflicting feelings rose their head within his heart.
On one had, he needed to investigate what exactly happened and, if he could manage, to find out about Lodwin’s fate. Despite the witch who accompanied him and her harsh but true words as well as Lodwin’s more than clear killing intend, a part of Rosomil didn’t want to admit defeat. This part of him still longed to convince his former brother in arms to reconsider.
On the other hand, Rosomil felt indebted to his demon. It had saved his life. While he was aware that this was part of their agreement, he couldn’t shake the feeling that it had saved him because of more than some measly contract. I’m making a fool of myself, he thought, and hated himself for what the demon so distinctly called sentimentality. Yet, he was unable to leave it in the castle with a good conscience.
“My Lord?”, asked Offilo once more, this time firmer and clearly worried. “Aren’t you feeling well? Shall I help you back to your room?”
“I… am alright, boy”, he replied and took a deep breath. “I just reconsidered my and therefore your next steps. You will go with Duodecum to Castle Eldebourg and investigate what has happened there after my demon has brought me back here. You’ll especially keep an eye out for a very tall man with long red hair named Lodwin. Should you find him or anything about his whereabouts, you won’t approach him or cause him or anyone in his company to notice you. You’ll immediately report back to Duodecum. Once that’s done, you’ll immediately return to me and inform me personally. Did you understand what I just ordered you?”
“Y-yes, my Lord!”, Offilo replied alarmed and pale as snow. “Shall I set out immediately?”
“Yes, but only once you’ve taken the necessary preparations for such a mission. Although Duodecum will take you to Eldebourg by using some magic, you’ve to conduct the investigation I ask of you without any of his magic. He might assist you with his knowledge and any ordinary ability of his, but it’s important for you to remain as innocuous as possible.”
“Yes, Sire, I shall immediately go and pack all necessities and report back once I’m done.”
“Very well, boy. Now go and do as I said.”
Visibly relieved, Offilo left him alone in the corridor. Rosomil didn’t bother to look after him and turned back towards the window.
“I feel empty…”, he murmured and took a deep breath.
He still needed to get his bearings. He still needed to take up his work once more. With a sigh and running his hand across his face, Rosomil went towards the throne room to speak with Primus.