Yara stood in the plaza outside of a large skyscraper, beside it was the half constructed Forister building. The 42nd floor, that’s where she needed to go. It was dusk, the sky was getting darker and the streets were becoming less crowded. Yara had no doubt she had already been spotted and they were preparing for her inside. Yara had her staff out and ready to go. She didn’t come here not expecting a fight after all.
“Holy shit, what are you doing here?” A vaguely familiar voice said from behind.
Yara’s gaze snapped to the one who spoke as she turned around. She did not recognize him, yet she knew his voice. It took only seconds for her to recognize the strange energies emanating from him. He wasn’t hostile, he knew how dangerous she was yet he’s approaching her in person.
“You’re that necromancer from the club.” Yara said.
“Yeah. Wasn’t expecting to run into you again. You looked like you were brooding or something, standing there staring up at this building.” Vaughn said.
“Someone I need to kill is up there.” Yara said.
“I got similar business in that building too. Who are you after?” Vaughn asked.
“The most vile woman to ever walk this world.” Yara said.
“Ah, we’re after different people then, good. Really didn’t want to fight you.” Vaughn said.
“Understandable. May we both find our targets…. Before we go in, can I ask you something?” Yara asked.
“Sure.” Vaughn said.
“You are a necromancer, you know more about death than most. Is there any way to destroy someone’s soul?” Yara asked.
“Want to make sure there’s no way she’s coming back from whatever you’re going to do to her?” Vaughn asked.
“Yes.” Yara said.
“Well you can’t exactly do anything to a soul, but I actually recently discovered how to resurrect people.” Vaughn said.
“You’re serious about this?” Yara asked.
“Oh yeah it’s true. Did it myself last night. Only works if the body is still fresh and mostly intact. Shred her to bits or burn her, you’ll remove that possibility entirely.” Vaughn said.
“Very good to know.” Yara said as she looked back up at the building.
“Is your thing the kind of thing where I should stay out here until you finish, or can we go in at the same time?” Vaughn asked.
An idea suddenly came to Yara. “We can both go in. I have to get to the 42nd floor. I imagine you need to use the elevator too?”
Vaughn confirmed this was the case and they both walked to the building together. Yara knew Clarita must have set up some kind of trap by now. However, she wouldn't dare spring it when there was a witness present. Otherwise someone might report what happened and then all of the effort put into staying hidden would be put in jeopardy. They could cover up something happening to Yara, but Vaughn was too infamous to cover up.
They both walked into the lobby, it was entirely vacant save for the receptionist at her desk. She started to say the greeting she gave all guests, but then stopped after recognizing one or both of them. Yara passed by her without a word, while Vaughn commented that she may want to take the night off. She left the building not long after.
Yara and Vaughn silently rode the elevator up into the building. Yara noticed the tip of a small hose just barely visible behind a vent in the elevator. Nothing was coming out, a trap must have been set but they can’t spring it. They reached the 42nd floor and Yara stepped out.
“Good luck.” Vaughn said before the doors closed.
This floor was home to larger apartments for the more rich tenants. The penthouse was too exposed, Clarita instead chose to stay here during her time in Grict. Yara looked down the hallway and towards a particular door. The only one she needed to walk through.
The hallway was uncomfortably quiet, every step she made silent thanks to the carpeted floor. No sound from any of the rooms, no creaking of floorboards, nothing. Yara saw the door but did not stand in front of it, instead she crouched down and held out her staff towards the handle. She ever so slightly managed to nudge the handle down to try and open the door.
Instantly a barrage of enchanted arrows and spells ripped through the door and some of the walls beside it. Clarita must have gotten the floors above and below to be vacant for a while, otherwise she wouldn't dare make this much commotion. Thankfully by crouching down and using her staff, Yara had managed to avoid the trap they set. She then stood up and kicked down the damaged door.
In the room were four large men not unlike the one she had killed on her first day in this city. They were trying to reload their crossbows and prepare spells as fast as they could. Yara didn’t waste any time charging in. Despite her efforts to stay calm and focused during this night, she found herself too fixated on the final obstacles in her way to notice the device mounted on the wall beside the door.
Yara was hit with a bolt of energy from the trap, the exact same kind of trap she used against the time stopper. The shock was supposed to leave her stunned, but once again her resistance to electricity saved her. However, she felt her magic get completely drained. That was the biggest issue she now had.
Fae are inherently magical beings. Most magic users need some way to draw out the magic energy they need, or simply need to wait a good while for their energy to recharge naturally. For fae though, they recharge rather quick. That’s why Clarita used them as the basis for her new species, domination through magic was the plan. For Yara, it meant that she would recharge in mere minutes. However, she wouldn’t have the chance to wait that long. It’s for situations like these why she trained tirelessly with her staff. After the few seconds it took for her to shake off the lingering effects of the shock, she readied her staff and glanced at her opponents.
Only one was a magic user, the others had crossbows. They were all standing in what looked like the living room, lavishly decorated too. Yara wasted no time, she charged straight for the magic user since she deemed him the biggest threat. In only a few quick steps she jumped onto and then off of the table towards the man with her staff already being swung in his direction. The clubbed end of the staff slammed down on his shoulder, breaking bones to make him unable to use that arm for casting. She kicked him in the gut before swinging the staff down onto his back to knock him to the floor.
The closest man to her charged at Yara with a knife. She swung her staff upwards to slam it into his chin. He fell to the side and Yara quickly jumped away from the two arrows that were quickly shot at her. The goon she had just hit was not out of the fight yet, he grabbed the other end of Yara’s staff with one hand and slashed at her arm with the other. Yara’s grip loosened from the newly made wound and the goon yanked the staff from her other hand.
One of the other goons tossed away their crossbow and charged at her with his bare hands. Yara knew now that she’s disarmed, they will probably try to incapacitate her. The goon on the floor tossed her staff to the other side of the room. Yara managed to jump back to avoid his grab and returned with a kick to the side of the head.
The man was much larger than Yara, all that hit did was disorient him. She ran to the goon on the floor and stomped on the arm holding the knife, it loosened his grip enough to let her pry it from his hands. She then stepped away to avoid him trying to grab her legs.
A pair of large muscular arms wrapped around her from behind, pinning her arms to her sides. Yara held onto the knife tightly and with the limited amount of movement she had, stabbed into the large man’s torso. He shouted in pain and slammed her into a wall, Yara struggled to maintain a grip on the blade and continued stabbing into the man. The fourth goon shouted to let him get a good shot at her.
Before the goon could turn to face his comrade, Yara had stabbed one too many times for him. He let her out of his bear hug, but quickly grabbed her by the shoulders and tossed her against the wall. The goon then fell to the floor clutching the multiple stab wounds on his side as he writhed on the floor. Yara dropped the blade on impact and was trying to recover from the disorientation.
She managed to get to her feet, only to see a bolt flying towards her face. The bolt hit her mask at such an angle that it flew off of her head, sending her hat and mask flying. This however, did not stop Yara. She managed to stand up straight and look the goon in the eyes. From his reaction, he must not have known about Clarita's experiments, these guys were likely just hired muscle.
Her face was snow-white like the rest of her body, completely black eyes with almost pinprick white pupils, pointed teeth resembling something one would see on an animal, something resembling a perfectly straight scar running horizontally across her face with two vertical scars going parallel across her eyes, a symbol on her forehead not branded or tattooed but more resembling a perfectly shaped birthmark in a shape resembling the symbol for the very magic she used, and leaking from her mouth was luminescent teal blood. Yara ripped an arrow out from the wall and charged at the man with it. He panicked and tried to quickly reload his crossbow. Though he wasn’t fast enough to avoid Yara as she stabbed the arrow into his throat.
Yara calmly let him bleed out as she picked her staff up from the floor and finished off each of the goons with a well placed strike. She then picked up and put back on her mask and hat. She waved her staff at the front door and caused three large spikes to erupt and block off the only exit from this apartment. Her magic was still low, but she was getting it back fast.
There was a sound from one of the side rooms, like someone had accidentally bumped into something. Yara wasted no time investigating, her heart pounding faster than it had during the fight a mere minute before. Clarita barely registered as a threat on her own, always relied on other people to fight instead. Yara threw open the door, glancing at the walls nearby for any traps.
Clarita was there, in what Yara only assumed was her office. She was standing beside her desk, a lamp laying on the floor she was about to put back where it was. Clarita and Yara froze in place for a few seconds as their gazes met. Then Clarita stood up straight and crossed her arms like a mother catching her child misbehaving.
“Are you happy now you ungrateful slut? You found me!” Clarita said in a tone conveying as much disgust as the language could allow.
Yara said nothing, she had nothing to say at all. Clarita was the kind of person who only saw things the way she wanted and refused to even acknowledge other viewpoints. Words of anything but agreement were pointless to someone like that. Yara’s final message to Clarita was not one she could say with her mouth. Yara stepped forward and used her free hand to punch Clarita in the face as hard as she could.
She recoiled and looked at the blood dripping from her nose and mouth before talking again. “Oh, real civilized of you. That punch wouldn't have done anything if you weren’t brought to me. You should be thanking me!”
Yara punched her again, knocking her against the wall.
“Dammit I AM YOUR QUEEN!” Clarita said as she was clearly having trouble staying on her feet.
Yara shrunk her staff to the size of a small club and swung it into her chest.
“AGH! YOU’RE ACTING LIKE A CHILD THROWING A TANTRUM! BE AN ADULT FOR ONCE!” She said as she fell back to the floor.
With every word that came from her mouth came a new insult. With each blow, Yara eventually tuned it out. Hearing only her own heartbeat and a high pitched ringing in her ears. At that moment, nothing else existed in the world to her. All her life consisted of was battering the object of hatred and torment that has haunted her for every waking moment of her life. Yara did not so much as grunt as she delivered every ounce of aggression onto the depraved being she saw before her.
Eventually, Clarita lied in the middle of the room. Battered, nearly every bone broken, and bloodied, yet she was still breathing. Yara grabbed Clarita by her shirt collar to hold her upright. Then while gripping her staff the hardest she ever has before, drew her magic into the ground below Clarita.
A single crystal spike erupted from the floor, impaling Clarita through her body. Yara let go and stood back as she focused her magic once more. Hundreds of needle-like spikes shot out from the sides of the main crystal, piercing every inch of her still twitching body. Then Yara caused the numerous rows of spikes to segment and begin spinning, half of them in a different direction than the other. Her body was torn to shreds as if thrown into a massive blender. What was once someone was now a pile of crystal needles and viscera. With that, Yara let out the longest breath of her life.
Without a word, or even much of a thought. She walked out of that bloodied apartment and towards the elevator. Her clothes splattered with blood, her staff looking like the murder weapon it was, and the adrenaline wearing off were all making walking back seem like a bad idea. The lobby was vacant, as was the outside. She looked up at the night sky and saw some kind of strange light coming from the top of the building, nothing she was concerned about. A car parked nearby opened a window, Yara recognized the one inside, she had been driven there and ordered them to wait for her. All of her belongings she took with her into this city were in the trunk. Yara stepped into the car’s back seat and buckled herself up.
“Holy shit, no wonder you want to get out of the city tonight. Best to do that before someone finds the crime scene you just left huh?” the driver said as the car drove away from the building.
“Yeah, that’s why I hired you. I trust you’ll do your job?” Yara said.
“I’ve had to drive bank robbers to safety. This is a piece of cake. Me and my associates have everything set up to bring you back across the sea. Not to mention you’re paying us way more than we asked.” the driver said as they held up the envelope containing the remainder of Frances’s money.
“The money has bad memories, I just want it gone.” Yara said as she took off her mask and tossed it out of the window.
“You okay lady?” the driver asked.
Yara reached into a small bag she had left in the car prior and pulled out a hand carved wooden mask she then put on. “No, but now I can hope I will be.”
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Saminedd was in his workshop, idly polishing and maintaining his tools. It had been a while since he had much to do down here, so he figured to use this time to perform some much needed cleaning. He much preferred to be down here at the moment anyway. Something had Deinia on edge, Saminedd believed it had something to do with what Jortam said when he arrived not long ago.
He must have been desperate to flee through the portal. Considering the injury he had when he was found down here writhing on the floor trying to stop his wound’s bleeding, Saminedd believed he may have done the same. After he was patched up, he told us his entire witch hunter group had been killed by an unknown geomancer. The main issue being that he had to leave the portal scroll behind.
The demonic contacts that were originally meant to meet up with them had instead spied on his campsite. As expected, witches came quickly to reclaim stolen treasures from past raids. The scroll was looted, but they could not tell where it was taken after. Jortam had no doubt Cyreen had some part to play in the slaughter, but covens don’t usually work together so none of them had any concrete reason for the scroll to end up in Lavor’s possession. That being said, Deinia placed a lock on it just in case.
Saminedd also heard of Deinia’s attempt to detain a specific tiefling. When he asked Deinia why this one was so important, she claimed that the tiefling was a relative of a political rival that knew too many things she shouldn’t. Lavor and Cyreen reportedly liberated her and now she’s under too much security to go after her again. The tiefling may have shared some kind of royal secret that had Deinia all worried.
That was why Saminedd was down in his workshop, he understandably did not want to deal with the drama unfolding upstairs. He mainly found moments of calm through interrogating or experimenting, which he has had a lack of lately. Deinia still hasn't forgiven him for Lavor and Cyreen escaping after all. He suspected this lack of prisoners sent down here was either because of her own ruthlessness or simply out of spite for him.
Then he heard the sound of a portal opening. It took him a few seconds to realize he shouldn’t be hearing it at all. Saminedd quickly turned around just in time to see Lavor thrusting the spiked top of his lantern into Saminedd’s chest. Pinned to the wall against a rack of sharp tools digging into his back and the holy metal burning his flesh with a pain he felt in his very soul, Saminedd let out a scream of anguish.
Lavor pulled the lantern away. Saminedd fell to his knees, his back bloodied and his front practically sizzling around the stab wound. He looked up to see Lavor prepare a strike with the lantern. Like hitting a baseball, Lavor swung the lantern at Saminedd’s head. Demonic blood splattered against the wall quickly burning away with purple flames. Saminedd’s head was already charred by holy fire by the time he hit the ground, the ashen skull crumbled as the rest of his body soon followed suit.
“We could have interrogated him.” Surraid said.
“If I didn’t do it, Cyreen would have.” Lavor said.
“And I still wish I did. As long as I get Jortam, I’ll be happy.” Cyreen said.
An alarm began to ring throughout the palace. Deinia would be able to sense them here, security would be on their way soon. Lavor insisted that the palace guards were not to be killed. They were sworn to protect whoever controls the throne, it would be cruel to kill them for simply doing their job.
The dungeon was intentionally designed with only one obvious entrance and exit. Cyreen stood in the hallway leading to the entrance and began weaving spells. She placed them on the walls, ceiling, and floor. Scattered through the hall and invisible to the untrained eye. Then she stood at the end of the hall to weave another spell as they heard the impending sounds of the palace guards approaching.
Cyreen projected a barrier at the end of the hall just as the guards burst in on the other side. The guards were wearing some of the sturdiest armor one can find in Deepworld, fighting them was out of the question. They ran towards Cyreen, shouting at her to surrender. The one in front pulled out a sword and stabbed into the barrier, the tip managing to poke through.
At that moment, Cyreen activated the spells in the hall. The entire length was filled with a green energy, sapping their strength. They all fell to the ground, feeling like they had just run several marathons and barely able to support their own weight with all the armor on. The spell should last for a while, they won’t have the energy to even crawl out of that hallway.
Cyreen dispelled the barrier. The three gently stepped over the hallway full of collapsed guards. Lavor could see one look at him with surprise, they had no idea he was alive either. There were going to be more guards elsewhere, they had to be ready.
Lavor pulled down his hood so any guards they face can see he has returned. Cyreen had spells ready to go and Lavor held his lantern at the ready. The three walked through the palace, heading towards the throne room. Most guards drew their swords on sight, but hesitated when they recognized Lavor. It was their duty to protect the demon prince once, and that duty remained even if they lost their title. Other guards still attacked, only to be incapacitated by Cyreen’s spells.
The door to the throne room was in sight, the two massive guards at the door looked at Lavor with confusion. These two had guarded the palace since not long after the first princess took the throne, amassing power few demons could even dream of. But the sight of the former prince with the holy lantern in his hands made them unsure on how to act. Even with their considerable power, that lantern was still as lethal to them as any other demon.
“How are you here?” one guard asked.
“Deinia tried to have me killed, she waited too long so I escaped. Now I intend to face her myself.” Lavor said.
“Depriving the demons of an unfit ruler is far more beneficial than depriving all future rulers of our services. Out of respect for your title and your deeds, we allow you entry.” the guard said.
They both pushed open the throne room doors. Though it was more of a throne balcony than a room, one of the massive walls was absent and instead let them gaze out onto the landscape of Deepworld. Most people imagine Deepworld to look similar to what many envisioned Hell as. Fire and brimstone and oceans of lava, things like that. Deepworld was not Hell. It was the inside of a massive hallowed out corpse, the corpse of the demon queen. She shed her mortal form upon becoming a god, and left her body to her subjects. The palace is built on top of the massive calcified heart of the queen. Her flesh has long since hardened, her blood dried, and most of her organs gone. In their place were massive cities and landscapes for all of demonkind to enjoy.
Lavor missed this sight, but his gaze was drawn towards his throne on which sat Deinia. More surprising though, was who was standing near the throne. A being with glowing light green skin, regal blue robes, six wings on their back, and a golden halo on their head. Floringnag, the angel prince. The angelic counterpart to the position Lavor seeked to reclaim.
“Now I see why you called me here. I never considered a demon would resort to such measures to use one of the holy weapons.” Floringnag said.
“How else am I supposed to reclaim my throne?” Lavor said.
“The mere notion that the former prince robbed one of our establishments and has been wielding an artifact such as that would cause immense controversy in both our worlds. Have you any idea how many of your kind are inscribed upon that weapon?” Floringnag said.
“I may have added a few more. Why are you here?” Lavor demanded.
“I called him here.” Deinia said.
She stood up from the throne, she was easily the same height as Lavor. Though she did not have the same physical power. She looked at them both with a smug expression that neither of them could stand. She knew if anyone could kill Lavor, it would be an angel like Floringnag.
“She informed me the one who stole the lantern was besieging her palace. Getting here was quick and easy for someone like me.” Floringnag said.
“I have no quarrel with you. I’ll return the lantern once I take back my throne.” Lavor said.
“The mere act of you using that lantern is enough to force me to act.” Floringnag said as he reached into his robe.
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He pulled out an average sized sword, except this one looked like it was made from the same material as the lantern. The blade ignited with holy purple flame, just standing in its light made Cyreen’s arms feel like they’re too close to a fire. If so much as a spark touches Lavor, he’s dead.
Cyreen looked at her friend. Lavor was scared and so was Surraid. Demons they could handle, but an angel of this caliber was far beyond the power of any one demon in Deepworld. Cyreen knew that if she didn’t stop the impending fight, they would all be doomed.
“LAVOR CHALLENGES DEINIA TO A RICKCHAC TARLL!!!!” Cyreen shouted.
Floringnag’s sword suddenly extinguished its flames as he looked at Cyreen. Deinia had a look of confusion on her face too, Cyreen doubted she even knew what it was. Deinia stepped forward as she tried to find the words to express her thoughts. Lavor seemed to calm down a bit once he realized he may not have to fight an angel.
“Wh…. What!?” Deinia asked.
“Lavor, is this true?” Floringnag asked.
“Y-yes. I invoke the ancient ritual of the Rickchac Tarll to challenge Deinia for my place on the throne!” Lavor said.
“The hell does that mean?” Deinia asked.
“It means I cannot interfere.” Floringnag said as he put away his sword.
“Why the fuck not!?” Deinia asked.
“It is an ancient demonic ritual. For someone like me to interfere would be an attack on the demon queen herself.” Floringnag said.
“Well she’s not here! She’s been dead for ages and she’s never even acknowledged me so I don’t think she’ll notice if you kill these traitors real quick!” Deinia said.
“That’s where you’re wrong. It is an ancient contest with only one of all demonkind worthy to judge it.” Floringnag said.
“That’s right.” someone said from behind Deinia.
She turned around to see none other than the demon queen herself sitting on the throne. A red and ghostly version of Deinia with orange eyes glowing so brightly Cyreen could barely look. The demon queen took the form of the current owner of the throne, she hasn’t needed her original body for a very long time. Everyone was awestruck at the sight of her, but who wouldn't do the same upon meeting a god?
“It has been a searing hot minute since I was last called to judge one of these. I was looking forward to this ever since I felt Lavor regain a bit of my power again.” the queen said.
“My queen, it is the highest honor.” Lavor said as he and Surraid bowed towards her.
“I must say, swapping arms with a witch to wield a holy weapon was a truly crazy but fun idea. Though that whole warlock keeping that fraction of power thing even after your dethroning is something I didn’t know could happen until now. Might have to fix that for when the next one comes along. But for now, let’s deal with this.” the queen said as she stood up from the throne.
“Deal with it how?” Deinia asked.
“The Rickchac Tarll has a couple parts. First I must know the reasons why it is being called in the first place. Lavor, explain your side.” The queen said.
“I was a beloved and great leader of demonkind. Deinia deposed me with a false story and tried to criminalize all I had accomplished. Were Floringnag not here, I would have already slain her and taken my throne back. So now this remains my only option.” Lavor said.
“I gave you those marks on your hands for a reason. The demons have not had someone like you in a long time and they’re past due for it. Deinia, your turn.” The queen said as she turned to her.
“I had trained my entire life for my shot at the throne, Lavor only got it because of those marks! He was making demonkind soft! Under his rule, we would have never survived another war with the angels!” Deinia said.
“I assure you, we do not wish to have any more war. Those days are long past us.” Floringnag said.
“As I’ve come to expect from you Deinia. Always worried about being perceived badly in history. You want to be known as the one who returned the strength robbed from your people. Instead of a bitter schemer who didn’t even care for her own daughter.” The queen said.
“So you disagree with her! Couldn’t you just get rid of her now?” Cyreen asked.
“No, despite my own personal opinions. I am forbidden from directly performing actions such as that, this ritual being an exception. Such is the role of the demon queen. But what about you witch?” the queen said as she stepped over to Cyreen.
“Me?” Cyreen asked.
“You’re the only one here not an angel or a demon. What do you make of this conflict? Are you merely helping Lavor because of a debt and the promise of your magic being restored to you?” the queen asked.
Cyreen was surprised she was acknowledged at all. The queen was right, she had no actual stake in this conflict. No matter the outcome, her life would be the same. Sure, Lavor promised her new arms. But there really wasn’t anything stopping her from finding another pair to use instead. Lavor gave her the chance to leave but she didn’t take it. Her friendship with him aside, the queen wanted to know why she stuck around.
“The truth is. The life debt and the arms are merely a bonus to why I’m here. Like Lavor, I too was forced out of what was once my home and left to fend for myself in the world. My family didn’t survive but I did. Then that witch hunter Jortam tried to take it away from me and sent me here. I’m helping Lavor because the throne is all he has left in his life and I know what that’s like.” Cyreen said.
“And what do you make of Deinia?” the queen asked.
“I don’t know enough about Deepworld politics to truly know who is better. But considering how she was working with those witch hunters and the other horrible things that have been done on her orders. I’d gladly take her down myself.” Cyreen said.
“Good to hear! Because specifics may just force you to!” The queen said.
“What!?” Lavor asked.
“You called the Rickchac Tarll without fully understanding what it meant. Not like I can blame you since it’s been so long and the records are inconsistent. The ritual is meant specifically for any demon bearing the marks to challenge the current ruler. And the only one here with marks is Cyreen.” The queen said.
“But she isn't a demon!” Lavor said.
“This ritual was made long before those surgeries were even invented. They only work if the rules are followed. The flesh those marks are attached to is still demonic, so therefore Cyreen is the one to face Deinia.” The queen said.
Deinia was suddenly feeling more confident. If she were a normal demon, she might have had a reason to be afraid. A fully fledged demon princess such as herself however, that’s a tough foe for any wizard. Killing Cyreen and destroying those marks would solidify her position as the rightful ruler. Lavor couldn’t overthrow her then.
“Is there anything I can do to trade places with Lavor?” Cyreen asked.
“Unless we get a doctor in here and you’re willing to lose those arms, no. The challenge has been set, there is no way to back out of it now.” The queen said.
“Let’s go witch, see what you’re made of.” Deinia said to mock Cyreen.
“You both get five minutes of prep time starting now. Then the fight begins.” The queen said before walking back to the throne.
Five minutes wasn’t much, but it would allow Cyreen to prepare somewhat. She immediately ran to Surraid, who was carrying a backpack full of supplies he gathered. He immediately opened the pack and showed Cyreen what he had brought, an assortment of various enhancing substances not all of which were legal. Cyreen was no stranger to drugs, there are things her coven brewed up that would make all the junkies in Grict envious. As she sorted through what she found, she talked to Lavor.
“What can she do? She’s the princess right, what kind of powers does that give her?” Cyreen asked.
“A lot of it is meant to be used against angels or demons, I don’t know how it would affect someone like you.” Lavor said.
“Just tell me what I should be worried about.” Cyreen said as she mixed two bottles and shook the contents.
“Lots of fire-based magic as well as a magic repelling shield, it’s powerful but history has shown it's not indestructible. She may also have some other spells, I really don’t know since we really don’t get in many fights when we’re in charge. Oh, and the queen’s hammer.” Lavor said.
“What’s the hammer?” Cyreen asked as she examined a small plastic tube filled with some kind of gas.
“The demon queen’s personal weapon. Anyone who holds the throne can call it to their side. It’s like the demon equivalent of the lantern. Don’t get hit by it. You’re not an angel but it will still mess you up.” Lavor said.
“Alright, thanks.” Cyreen said as she picked out the final item from the backpack.
Lavor watched as Cyreen prepared for the fight. Such an assortment of substances could not be healthy for her and she knew it. She was willing to deal with it if it meant winning this one fight. Lavor felt guilty that she was inflicting this on herself because of some technicality he couldn’t see coming. He wanted to do something, he knew he had to do something.
The day Lavor was dethroned, he had a dream. Prophetic visions were no stranger to anyone who holds the throne. He saw himself in this exact room, in this situation, holding the lantern. He had no way to interpret the vision then, he only had a vague idea of what was to come. That’s why he insisted on stealing the lantern instead of any other holy weapon. The one thing he knew for sure was that it was key to getting his throne back.
But it wasn’t making sense now. This entire situation would make Deinia’s dethroning at his hands unachievable. Either Cyreen wins the fight and Deinia is forced to give up the throne, or Deinia wins and Floringnag ends him right there since there wasn’t any other way that fight could go. The visions never steered him wrong, he tried to think about what he was missing. Then the idea popped into his head.
“My queen, where is this fight supposed to take place?” Lavor asked.
“It cannot extend past this room.” The queen said.
“Then, is it okay if I do this?” Lavor said as he walked to the center of the room.
He held up the lantern, the holy metals now burning his palms. He slammed the bottom of the lantern into the floor, cracking the brick floor and creating a shallow hole. Lavor let go of the lantern and it stayed upright, the purple flame shining off of the bladed corners. Lavor looked at his burned hands as Deinia glared at him.
“Can he do that?” Deinia demanded.
“Outside help is forbidden when the fight starts, but it hasn’t started yet. The lantern is now merely a hazard to this arena. Should be interesting.” The queen said.
“I for one, object to such a crude usage of a holy weapon.” Floringnag said.
“Don’t worry. Your king did far worse with far better weapons than that. Though some of them were my idea in the first place.” The queen said.
Lavor walked back over to Cyreen, who was shaking from the now emerging effects of what she just consumed. He recognized a few, most were magic enhancing drugs and stamina boosters. Her eyes were glowing green with her witch magic practically bursting at the seams from within her. Cyreen was trying to keep focus when Lavor wished her good luck.
With their time now up, Cyreen and Deinia stepped forward while everyone else gathered by the throne. The queen summoned a circular barrier of magic to ensure no one interfered. She then stated the fight will be until surrender, knockout, or death, whichever one happened first. With everything set up, the queen declared the fight to begin.
Cyreen immediately cast a bolt of lightning at Deinia, barely even having to weave the spell in her heightened state. As expected, a slightly visible barrier around Deinia deflected the spell into the floor. Cyreen debated on sticking with magic or trying to get in close with her hands. Deinia had no physical features that she needed to worry about save for the pair of horns on her head, but she was also a good deal larger than Cyreen. Even if she wasn't stronger than Lavor, she’s certainly stronger than most non-demons.
“I may not even need to use my magic to defeat you. Let’s see how you handle this!” Deinia said as she held her hand up in the air.
In a burst of infernal green flame, a weapon the size of a sledgehammer appeared in her hand. It was the queen’s hammer, a design that looked more simple than the elegance one would expect from such a weapon. The metal looked like it was made of layered scales, the head was decorated with broken angel halos that were black and fused with the metal, on the back of the head was a spike resembling one of the horns that once rested upon the demon queen’s head, and both the striking end of the head and the spike were glowing a bright green.
“It has been too long since I’ve used that hammer. I wonder if she knows what it’s like?” The queen said to herself.
The weight suddenly hit Deinia and the hammer fell to the ground. She was struggling to lift it, Deinia had clearly never used this before. With both hands she managed to lift the weapon, she did not have the skill or strength to use it properly. Yet, she did not drop it. Deinia knew the demon queen didn’t like her, refusing to use the queen’s weapon would be an even further insult to her. The demons wouldn’t trust a leader who’s very god disagrees with how they were doing. Deinia wanted to earn the queen’s respect, her reign depended on it.
Cyreen continued to throw all manner of magic spells at Deinia, every single one being effortlessly blocked by the barrier. Deinia got close enough to attempt a swing with the hammer, Cyreen blasted it with a spell to knock it back before the hit could connect. She may not be able to use it well, but the hammer was still plenty deadly. Deinia stumbled from the blast and retaliated with a stream of orange fire from her mouth.
Cyreen emitted a layered wall of barriers, the fire stream was managing to burn through them even in her enhanced state. Deinia suddenly stopped her attack and shook her head before coughing up some sparks. She’s not used to using these powers in combat, nor can her body withstand it for long. One barrier managed to hold, protecting Cyreen. She looked at the floor which was smoking and almost melted from the flames.
Cyreen then decided to try something different. She weaved the energy beam spell she used on the time stopper, a proper version of the spell instead of the brief tiny one she used then. A tight beam of yellow light fired from her hand and into Deinia. The shield was still holding strong, but Deinia was feeling the force of the beam. She was being pushed back by the strength of the spell. Deinia dropped the hammer, being forced to focus all of her strength on not being blown back.
The shield was mostly passive, but she could focus power into it to increase its effectiveness. The bright light from the beam was making it impossible for her to see in front of her as she steadily began to feel less and less of the force pushing on her. Soon she was able to stand up without much worry. Then the beam suddenly stopped and she saw Cyreen standing right in front of her.
Cyreen had blinded her to get in close without worry. This left Deinia briefly stunned, which Cyreen had hoped would happen. Cyreen then swung her fist as hard as she could into Deinia’s face. The impact made her stumble, while it was not as strong as one from Lavor, it was strong enough to make her briefly dazed.
Cyreen then used her other hand which already had a spell ready to go and placed her palm flat against Deinia’s torso. In her heightened state, Cyreen noticed the shield seemed to start an inch away from her body. Cyreen hoped that this close, a spell won’t be blocked. A burst of spectral fire erupted from her palm, launching Deinia back against the wall set up by the queen.
Deinia wasted no time retaliating by running forward and shoving Cyreen, which sent her quite a distance back thanks to Deinia’s increased strength. Cyreen ended up slamming her back into the long handle of the lantern, which thankfully did not touch her arms. The teal fire was still burning, spectral fire being one of the few forms of fire that demons cannot be resistant to. Deinia’s hand glowed green as she slammed it onto her burning flesh. The fire was extinguished and the pain was reduced, though Cyreen could still see she was still feeling the pain of it.
Deinia now had adrenaline flowing through her and managed to pick the hammer back up with a bit more ease. Cyreen, who was still a bit dizzy from the impact, saw Deinia charge at her with the hammer. She swung at Cyreen with a low horizontal swing, Cyreen managed to scramble away to avoid the hit. However, the hammer slammed against the lantern and caused an interesting reaction.
The lantern was designed to destroy all things demonic, the hammer was designed to destroy all things angelic. The hammer seemed to stick to the handle of the lantern upon impact, sparks began to fly from where they touched and a ringing was being emitted from both weapons. Deinia tried to pull the hammer away, but it refused to move almost like it was the will of a god. She let go of the hammer and quickly stepped away, Cyreen also stood up and backed away.
“OOH! Been a long while since this happened!” The queen said as she eagerly leaned forward on the throne.
“What’s happening!?” Lavor asked.
“The result of two conflicting absolutes coming in contact! It’s gonna get bright so look away unless you’re a god!” The queen shouted as she stood up.
A blinding flash burst out from both weapons, Cyreen felt alternating waves of burning and soothing on her arms as she shielded her eyes. Then there was a shockwave followed by a sound similar to hearing a solid block of metal from high up being dropped onto the ground. Cyreen felt herself thrown back, like every inch of her body facing the flash was kicked by a horse. The flash subsided and Cyreen opened her eyes while she was unable to move much due to the pain.
The lantern was intact but looked like it had been shot out of a cannon into the floor. The hammer was intact too, it was resting on top of Deinia as she was barely able to breathe. Deinia was also unconscious, the hammer was always drawn towards its owner and it flew right at her when the weapons separated. Seeing Cyreen still moving, The queen removed the barrier and declared Cyreen the winner.
“Cyreen is victorious! My new child on the throne shall be her! Then Lavor once he gets those arms back.” The queen said.
“That’s it, Nothing more to the ritual?” Floringnag said.
“It was from a simpler time, I’d personally add a few more steps and revise some things. But for now, we’ll go with this.” The queen said as she instantly morphed to mimic Lavor.
“Anything more? Any kind of procedure I need to do?” Lavor asked.
“Aside from a surgery to get those grabbers back, nothing as far as this ritual is concerned. The actual legal process I will leave up to you. Thank you my son, this was quite exciting!” The queen said.
Then, the queen vanished. Lavor looked at the unconscious Deinia and the wounded Cyreen. He ran over to make sure she was okay and demanded that Surraid find the palace doctor. The imp flew away into the palace as Floringnag floated over to the lantern and yanked it out of the ground. He inspected it for any damage before turning to Lavor, who was looking over Cyreen.
“We will settle the matter of your theft later, once things have stabilized. Anyway, I wish you luck prince.” Floringnag said as he vanished into a golden portal.
Cyreen was now feeling the side effects of the drugs. That in addition to feeling like most of her bones were broken, had left her in a very unwell state. She looked up at Lavor and smiled. Then she turned over and threw up.
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Hictor stood on the edge of the helipad on the roof and looked down at the city below. This was one of the tallest buildings in Grict and so few people would see a view like this. The wind was blowing hard enough to make Hictor cautious about being closer to the edge of the building itself. He didn’t want to go through all of that just to die to a gust of wind and a massive drop. Every summon he had was out, keeping watch as the machine warmed up.
“Anything we need to worry about?” Hictor asked as he continued to look down at the city.
“Aside from the very obvious drop, no present threats in the building.” Torrid said.
“Good, I need to make sure this works.” Hictor said.
“I still feel that we should issue a warning to the city.” Torrid said.
“A warning will just attract attention and increase the chance of someone ruining the plan! I don’t like it any more than you do, but this is the only path I have left.” Hictor said as he walked over to the machine.
The silver column was now covered in etchings resembling magic runes unlike those seen by any school of magic and arranged to look somewhat like a mathematical formula. Hictor looked at the exposed insides of the machine so complex it could make a watch blush. The crystal was mounted in the center, getting brighter and brighter.
With this machine, Hictor would cease to be. Hictor Lindstrum was a wanted man, shunned in every nation, has a bounty equal to the annual budget of a country, and has committed enough crimes to get him the death sentence in most places. He had no desire to be that person anymore, he had no desire to be a person either. It wasn’t until recently he realized how much he despises being flesh and blood. The constant need to eat, drink, shit, sleep, all of it were just obstacles in completing his work to him.
Hictor always worked his hardest. He remembered having to be hospitalized more than once because of his focus. He originally just considered it a fact of life, something he would have had to deal with no matter what he was born as. All he could do was learn to live with it. Then he found out there was another way.
The being he originally summoned, it told him how to become like it. They too had become tired of their organic form and the ever present lingering threat of disease, injury, and despair. They told Hictor how the crystal could help them achieve it too. Ascend beyond the confines of this world, beyond the physical realm. Find a new mode of existence that those longing for his crystal could never hope to tamper with.
The recoil of such a transformation would affect the surrounding area of course. Interdimensional bleed through, copy universe destabilization, and a burst of energy equivalent to a solar flare. All are possible and at least something like it was certain once it finished. Hictor stood back from the machine so he could bask in its glory.
“Yes! Yes! It’s not far now!” Hictor said.
The wind was blowing around him, making it hard to hear anything behind him. He felt a hand grab his shoulder and turn him around. He found himself looking into the crimson tinted glasses of a man wearing all black. Vaughn punched Hictor in the head with all he had, shattering the lenses on one of his goggles.
Hictor fell to the floor and clutched the eye under the shattered lens as he shouted in pain. Hictor then threw off his goggles and veil before standing up and backing away. Vaughn saw Hictor’s eyes were completely black, looking almost charred as if he had been burned from right inside his eye socket. The flesh around his eyes were charred as well. Hictor took his hand away from his injured eye to reveal not blood, but white flames were flickering from the wound.
“Dear gods, what happened to you?” Vaughn asked.
“No no no. You don’t come interrupt my damn magnum opus and start asking ME questions!” Hictor turned to his summons. “The hell guys!? Didn’t you try to stop him!?”
“They can’t. I’m here to put an end to this.” Vaughn said.
“You fucking bounty hunters have been hounding me for years! I can’t get away from you even all the way up here!” Hictor said.
“I’m no bounty hunter. I’m here to return a favor.” Vaughn said.
“A favor to wh- wait….” Hictor said as he turned around to look at his summons.
“I called him. Hictor, you’re not yourself! You’ve been turning into something else ever since that thing came back! The Hictor I first met would never do something like this!” Torrid said.
“I am your master! And I command you all to attack him!” Hictor said as he pointed at Vaughn.
“They can’t. The death energy I possess is concentrated enough to be deadly to them. And it’s one of the basic summon contract rules that any summon has the right to refuse an order that threatens their life.” Vaughn said.
“I…. why don’t I know that?” Hictor said as he seemed to simmer down. “I had the rules memorized, why have I forgotten?”
Vaughn had forgotten to get someone ready for this, Torrid and Eso assured him that without the help of his summons, Hictor would be no match for Vaughn alone. Despite that, Vaughn wished it wasn’t so windy on top of this building. He wouldn’t be able to get a cigarette lit long enough to bring someone out. He reached into his coat and pulled out his baton, but he didn’t extend it just yet.
“Why did I…. NO! No, fuckin’ stop it! This is the kind of thing I’m trying to get rid of! I can’t exist as a person anymore!” Hictor shouted.
“I understand you’re having a bit of a crisis, I’m no stranger to those myself. But this machine could devastate this place. Simply stop it and I’ll let you go with no hassle. Go find a mountain or a desert or something to do this in instead.” Vaughn said.
“I can’t! It told me this is the only place where it will work! I have to do this! What awaits me if I give this up? A life of being hunted and on the run, shunned by all until I die alone!?” Hictor said.
“This was your own doing! You refused to give up the crystal and kept its power to yourself!” Eso shouted.
“You don’t know me! It was my chance to tap into forces no other had done before! I am a man of science, how could I refuse!?” Hictor said.
“Last chance Dr. Lindstrum. Shut it off before I do.” Vaughn said as he flicked open his baton.
“What stake do you even have in this? I’ve never even met you and this seems like quite a lot to do for a mere favor!” Hictor asked.
“The little bug fellow helped me get a vital component for my life’s work. I have achieved something historic and it would never be possible without their help. This is the least I can do to repay them.” Vaughn said.
“You were conspiring with him the whole time!?” Hictor yelled as he turned to Torrid.
“When I saw how you were changing, I felt like a contingency plan was in order. Eso agreed.” Torrid said.
“Shut. It. Off. Or I’m taking you down.” Vaughn said as he approached.
“Can you even use that thing?” Hictor said as he looked at Vaughn’s baton.
“Necromancy and Summoning are very similar, we both bring forth others to fight. I was taught early on that any wizard who relies on that too much is a pushover when all alone. I’m not one of those wizards.” Vaughn said.
Vaughn charged forward, Hictor pulled out his pocket knife. He tried to block Vaughn’s strikes, but found himself just barely able to keep up. Hictor hated to admit it, but Vaughn was right. Hictor had never actually used this knife on another person any more than pulling it out to threaten them. He had no chance of winning this fight.
Vaughn landed a hit right on Hictor’s arm, bruising the bone and making him drop his weapon. Vaughn kicked it away and tried to strike again, but Hictor managed to jump back and avoid the hit. The summons merely watched, all having mixed feelings on what they were witnessing. Every instinct of being a summon was telling them to interfere, but their own bodies were saying to stay away.
Vaughn had no current intention of killing Hictor, he merely wanted to stop his machine. Vaughn personally believed the oversized bounty to be a trick, he had no interest in the theoretical reward. He wanted to disable Hictor, knock him out maybe, or kill him if it came to that. Only issue was despite his lack of training, Hictor was deceptively durable.
The summons all felt differently on what to do. Eso just wanted this to be over, Torrid wanted Hictor to maybe realize what he was doing, the chitin covered brute was annoyed with Hictor and wanted him gone, the indestructible creature was thankful Vaughn didn’t target it out of revenge for earlier, the invisible being didn’t wish for harm to befall the city, the stone man was glad the silver gargoyle would be avenged, and the copy universe realtor just wanted to go home. Torrid was correct that Vaughn’s death energy could kill them easily, though mere contact with him would not be harmful. It was the threat of a reaniamted person that they were worried about. Despite that all of them knew Vaughn couldn’t summon someone with the wind like it was, they had no desire to jump into the fight.
Vaughn hit Hictor with all he had in every strike. He just wanted him to go down or stop fighting, something to let him get to that machine. Cuts bled fire, bruises glowed under his skin. He hadn’t been human in a long time, the machine was just the final step in the transformation.
Despite the beatings, Hictor continued to fight back. Throwing easily dodged punches and kicks before being knocked back again. Vaughn tried to break the bones in his legs but no matter how hard he hit, Hictor was still standing.
“Am I going to have to toss you off this roof to finally make you stop?” Vaughn asked as he was breathing hard from all the effort.
“My summon will have me back up here before I hit the ground. I’ll never stop!” Hictor shouted.
With the only remaining course of action obvious, Vaughn kicked Hictor in the chest. It sent him stumbling backwards into the mechanisms of his machine. Hictor didn’t say a word, not even a cry of pain or shock. The gears and moving pieces simply pulled him apart as all watched in horror. Hictor did not bleed, nor did he even leave behind a body. It was like he had simply popped in a burst of fire that coated the inside of the machine.
It slowed down as the flames melted the delicate silver components. The glow faded to nothing as the machine fell apart. All that remained was a smoldering pile of slag and a strange crystal untouched by the flames and melted metal. Vaughn looked around at the summons who were still there.
“I’m sorry it came to that. But I don’t think there was another way.” Vaughn said.
“There wasn’t.” Eso said.
“I…. I don’t know if it can dispel something like you guys.” Vaughn said.
“Pick up the crystal, use that.” Torrid said as it scuttled over to Hictor’s discarded goggles and veil.
Vaughn carefully reached out to grab the crystal, feeling the warmth from the flames through his gloves. The moment he touched it, he no longer saw the city around him. Only stars as if he was floating in space. Vaughn cautiously picked up the crystal and looked around until a voice spoke out.
“Will you return to us what is ours? Help us undo what the last has done?” A voice said from a direction Vaughn couldn’t determine.
“I have no idea what you are. But I can tell you are above someone like me. Take it and get these poor souls back to where they belong.” Vaughn said.
“Thank you, we shall nudge things in your favor as thanks.” the voice said.
With that, the crystal vanished from his hand. He found himself on the rooftop once again with no one nearby. The machine was still melting and the summons were nowhere to be found. Vaughn collapsed his baton and walked over to the stairs.
“People are going to think I made this up.” Vaughn said to himself.