“Throw a shield up or something to stop them from coming,” Emerie suggested frantically, darting her gaze between the three doorways they were slowly piling in from. Two on either side of the throne room, and the main double doors behind them.
“I can’t. We must wait for the Demon King,” Lindiwe quietly bit back. “He won’t be able to teleport in or out once I place it down. Not even a Phantom can escape it.”
Won’t be able to teleport in or out… Emerie swallowed thickly.
It was a trap, not only for him, but for them. There would be nowhere to run or hide.
One by one, more Demons came and joined the others to stare at them.
The air was thick and stale with tension, combined with a foulness that only permeated from Demons. Like tree rot and the sweetness that came from a decaying corpse. It wasn’t too bad, as if the smell had diluted over time with their growth – since she could tell most of these were medium and larger Demons – but it was still enough to singe her nostrils.
There were a few candles lit on a mostly darkened chandelier above. Spiders had made their cobweb homes on its inverted golden arches, but it did look as though someone attempted to half-heartedly maintain it.
The floor was clean except for right in the corners where the wall met the flagstones. A red carpet, worn down and faded in a wide strip down the middle, ran from the heavy timber double doors all the way up the podium steps and underneath the throne. The chair itself was made of varnished timber and adorned with red cushions. It was the only real furniture in the room, and the only thing well maintained.
The clear glass arching window behind it was… eerie. Although it was the middle of the day, black and purple swirling magic stopped any light from shining through. It made everything dim and ominous.
They’d only been here for a few minutes, and already Emerie wanted to run for the hills. The passage of time was drawn out, like the sand in an hourglass had slowed to a trickle in this agonising wait.
It allowed her to take in the whisper of her companions’ breaths, each one of them shallow and filled with anxiety. Her heartbeat was a pounding drum in her ears, so loud she worried its secretive pulsing was heard by all. Even her hair trailing down her shoulder was scratchy and distinct.
Most of the Demons had turned into grinning statues made of mixed flesh. Patchy sections that, instead of skin, looked like the night sky, threatening to twinkle with stars throughout the human brown, fawny, and white skin. They almost appeared to have vitiligo, which was separated by the human-like parts of them and the obviously inhuman animal parts.
Most had tails of some form, yet only a few had snouts and muzzles. Some had horns and fur. All had claws.
Emerie avoided looking at the two with wings, but her curious gaze had checked to make sure they weren’t the ones who had tried to steal her. To make sure they weren’t the ones who had ruined her life and killed Gideon.
They weren’t.
There were a few on all fours who strutted between their brethren, never taking their fierce red eyes off them. They snickered and whooped like wild dogs or hissed like feral cats. They wanted to lunge, they wanted to attack, they wanted to… eat.
One almost poked itself in the eye when it licked across its muzzle while giving a disgusting slurp.
She took in a deep breath when she swore there was an echo of one or two stomachs gurgling.
Wrong. All of this was wrong.
She should not be here. No human should be here.
Emerie had gone to the Veil, the most dangerous place in Austrális, and decided to go… fuck it! Why not toss herself into the very middle of the cesspool of death?!
Fright had completely dried her tears. Yes, she thought of Ingram – it was the only thing stopping her from screaming and bolting. Her determination to know he would be safe, and that she could, somehow, be a step towards him and his kindred reuniting, was the only thing keeping her feet firmly placed where they were.
She was choosing to believe in his dream, even if it made no sense. Even if it was pointless.
It was what he wanted.
With an arrow nocked but not foolishly pointing at an enemy, Delora’s quiet voice trembled through the silence. “W-why are they just standing there?”
“Because they are not mindless Demons,” Lindiwe answered, her head lowering so she could glare. “These are his guards. They will wait for his command.”
The Demons within the room either snickered or remained silent but oppressing.
“Where the fuck is he?” Reia snapped out as she rotated back and forth on the balls of her feet, pointing her sword at multiple monsters.
“He’s either taunting us” – Lindiwe stepped closer to Emerie – “or waiting for more Demons to arrive.”
“Well, fuck that,” Reia muttered under her breath before stepping forward. “Knock knock, you fucking bastard!”
The laughter that reverberated against the walls echoed throughout the room, diabolical and sinister. It was soft and sane, which made it all the more bone-chilling.
Emerie only had enough time to turn her head and gasp as the Demon King appeared and picked Reia up by the throat. Then he was gone, taking her to the podium where his throne was.
Lindiwe threw her hand against the ground and the doors sealed shut with a thunderous bang, causing Emerie to jump in surprise. Black glittering sand blocked any more enemies from entering the room.
“Reia!” Delora screamed, lifting her bow and arrow in their direction.
“I have a fucking bone to pick with you,” Jabez snarled, rotating the hand not around her throat like a wave until his claws were facing upwards towards Reia’s abdomen.
She kicked at first, one of her hands grabbing at the clawed one he had wrapped tightly around her throat. In the next moment, she turned incorporeal, eyes narrowed and a sneer marring her features.
She flittered back as she hovered in her ghostly form.
His shark-toothed grin brightened at the woman, as if he knew she’d escape him all along.
Emerie took in his side profile and tried not to gawk at the oddity of him.
His skin was dark brown but made utterly inhuman by the grey undertone to it that only became obvious when shaded from the candles above. His ears were long, pointed, and appeared Elvish, whereas the black horns curling up and back over his head were Demonic. He was tall, perhaps not taller than a Duskwalker, but he still towered over Reia’s tiny form.
Although he wore long, genie-like dark pants that had a layer of loose material draping over them like a skirt, he was shirtless. It revealed he had strong but lean muscles, as well as void-like, thick black streaks – that almost appeared like claw marks – over his sides, neck, shoulders, and down his biceps.
Red eyes flicked to Lindiwe, and his long white hair, coming to the base of his spine, flowed in a glossy straight curtain when he turned.
His lips were full, his nose straight and thin, and his cheekbones were high, framed by a sharp jaw. His large, grinning mouth widened even further to reveal more sharp fangs. He had a chomp that would be devastating.
His features were handsome, despite the strangeness that came from the Elvish and Demon mix of him.
A multitude of jewellery glinted from him in the form of gold bands. Three pliable ones hung around his neck, whereas the other seven were hard. Two dug into the meaty flesh of his left biceps, versus only one on his right. Four more were in pairs around his ankles, and they jingled when he moved.