“I never thought tuakana was stupid.”
Brandon halts in his tracks, unable to believe what he just heard. My mind must be playing tricks on me. Yes, it must be the sickening stench of death and decay clouding my mind.
He continues moving when he hears the voice again. This time, it is much louder, and the half-demon clenches his fists so hard that his nails cut into his flesh. Turning around ever so slowly, he regards the half-demon with hooded eyes. What’s his plan now?
The ever-dutiful Ultima reminds his absent-minded master of the dire situation of the subject and only then does the half-demon react.
“Are you ready to talk to me?”
“I w-was a-a-always ready…” Llearth erupts into a hacking fit. The sight is oddly reminiscent, and Brandon experiences a feeling of déjà vu. While it seems like there is no end to the lesser demon’s coughing bout, Brandon knows h
“What do you mean I changed? What are you talking about?” Brandon is once more stupefied by the lesser demon’s words. This had better not be another of his shenanigans.“As much as I would love to answer all of your questions, we, or should I say you, are yet to make your stand concerning the deal known. What say you?”“We’re not in the nineteenth century, man.”“I’m well aware of mortal age and time. I can speak in whatever tongue I please. Or is that prohibited too?”“That isn’t the point.”“Then what is? It sure as isn’t your Loubotinis though. You’ve been glancing at your feet since you came here, and I’m starting to think that they’re more important than what you need from me.” Noticing the skeptical glance the half-demon gives him, he snorts. “What? You think Hell is Backwater County, don’t you? I’
“What does tuakana mean? I tried searching for its meaning across several encyclopaedias, but got nothing tangible in return.”“First and foremost, it’s pronounced two-a-kana, and not that mortal slur emanating from that exotic piehole of yours. Secondly, what on Earth and everything mortal made you think of scouring human books for translations to demon lingua francas? You must be either too confident, or just plain stupid. And your recent actions prove to me that the latter is more probable.”Brandon tries to not let his irritation show. Quick breaths, Don. Quick breaths. When he has managed to put his erstwhile tendencies under control, he repeats the question, making sure to sound as unannoyed as possible.Ha! As if that could fool me. Your heritage may outclass mine by several tiers, but I’ve been a messenger far longer than you’ve been alive, boy. Llearth inwardly smirks at the half demon’s attempt to remain
He can’t go anywhere, not with how fortified this place is. Escaping from here is only a pipedream. With that conviction, Brandon pretends not to notice the lesser demon’s critical gaze. And so the barrage of questions continue, each one trying to outsmart the other, like a typical game of chess.“How can one go to Hell?”Llearth chokes on his non-existent saliva. “A-and why would you wanna go to Hell? Most humans want to go to Heaven!” he shutters and stares at the half demon like one would stare at an alien from outer space.“I think it’s been established that I’m not a normal human. As a matter of fact, I am anything but human.”“You’re not a demon either,” Llearth not so quietly murmurs. I don’t know what you are, but you’re certainly not just a demon.“What did you say?”“Nothing. I said nothing. What was your qu
For the past six months, Travis has struggled to do something he ordinarily would have no problems doing- opening a dilapidated, worm-infested gate which is about as heavy as his father’s quill. One might think the sight of a young demon sitting slightly above the ground, cross-legged with eyes squeezed shut and lips pursed in a thin line a normal occurrence, as it was common to see students lost in concentration. But that would be in a school, or within closed quarters. It will certainly not be in front of an atrophied, tatterdemalion structure that has surely seen better days, under the heat of the sweltering sun. That isn’t strange- it’s pure madness. Demons, being extremely strong supernatural beings, do not fall prey to mortal diseases like cancer. Their wounds are never infected, because they heal too fast to leave festering sores, and their immune system, or whatever demonic equivalent they have, is too powerful for the likes of sepsis or inflammation,
“Can I at least...”The restraints around his hands, torso, and feet tighten, conveying the Maestro’s response. Klade clenches his jaw, wincing at the pain that is worsened by that movement, a stark reminder of his overwhelming weakness and what could very well befall him if he tries to leave again. Justyou wait, you swaddled, cod-mouthed dollop head! There’s always a next time, and I’ll be damned if I let you play me like a fool again! If it wasn’t for your identity, I’d have taught you a lesson you’d never forget.If the Maestro hears Klade’s thoughts, he does a good job of ignoring it, like the cow would ignore the buzzing of flies on its tail. He cannot be bothered to assuage his doubts any more than he already has. As long as he plays his part, nothing else matters. After all, he was simply told to keep the young demon alive- there was no mention of coddling or convenience of any sort.&nb
A lot of things have changed since Lia’s failed (and near fatal) awakening. From the moment she regained consciousness, long before she gained enough strength to flutter her eyelids, she knew something was wrong. Horribly wrong.Every member of the supernatural world has the orifice of life essence, known in jezik besmrtnika,the generic language of the supernatural world, it is referred to as būtības atverei.It is a metaphysical aperture that exists in the innards of the mortal body of a supernatural being. Created by forces beyond the confines of logical reasoning, the orifice is what actually determines if you are a member of the supernatural race or not.From conception, up till the end of adolescence i.e the Awakening, the orifice of life essence remains dormant, allowing them live partially magic-free lives. Partially, because magic can never truly be confined. Thus, all applications of magic that require the use of life essen
Lia is filled with questions, but she knows she will not get an answer. Not anytime soon, at least.Sandara Harrison rarely ever expresses her feelings, most especially when it comes to filial piety. However, when she does, it’s overly effusive, like a deluge that overwhelms and nearly suffocates you, because your poor brain cannot make a connection between mushiness overload and the severe, heavy-handed image she normally portrays. They’re just too different to juxtapose, like two colors at opposite ends of the spectrum.After satisfying her curiosity, allaying her otherwise frayed nerves, and ensuring that her convalescent niece will not be returning to the depths of a dreamless slumber anytime soon, Sandara makes to deposit herself on her signature chair, only to realize halfway into the action that the wooden seat has been reduced to a jumble of woodpiles. This puts her in an awkward position, and she is caught in between the motions of standing and sit
“Gloves? Check. Lead smears? Check. Formaldehyde? Check. Books? Check. Solenoid? Check. Solomon’s gold bars? Check. Defibrillator? Check. Recorders? Check. Barbed wires? Check. Mutated daffodils? Check…”At this point, the rest of Brandon’s words are like white noise in Llearth’s ears. The messenger demon wonders, for the life of him, why he still puts up with the younger demon after all this time.Because he’s not just a worthy scion of your highly revered ancestor, but also your ticket to unprecedented glory, fame like no other, and most likely your saving grace, just in case you piss off someone you’re not supposed to, which is something you always do, his subconscious replies him.After reassuring himself- something he’s had to do from time to time to remain the clearheaded, bigger person amongst the two of them- he does a mental scan of the room to be sure that they haven’t missed out on an
The slaughter formation is triggered, and it reaps the lives of the opposition without delay.As the formation drains the blood from the witches, screams of varying pitches and intensities rend the air. The High Witch makes sure to seal the entire room within a bubble that prevents sound from escaping to the surroundings. Even though the office of the High Witch is in a secluded place, it is better to take no chances with something like this.The screams are a queer melody to Estelle’s ears, as she revels in their suffering. Finally, she can be at ease, knowing that there is one less hidden knife capable of stabbing her in the back. The opposition has overstayed their welcome; they have become a parasite that needs to be flushed out as quickly as possible.The redhead witch dies with her eyes opened, full of hate and loathing. Such venomous eyes would scare most people, but it only adds to the beauty of the pictures formed in her mind, the mental images sh
One became the High Witch, and the other is widely known as the Jade Witch. Two sisters with the ancient bloodline running in their veins.”At this revelation, everyone is shocked, and the sight of their eyes bulging like they are about to be ejected from their sockets gives the High Witch a twisted sense of joy. Now you know how it feels to be ‘shocked senseless’. You haven’t heard anything yet. By the time I am done with you, you will have to pick up those eyeballs, along with your jaws, from the floor before I end you.“Now, tell me,” Estelle cocked her head to the side, like a doctor trying to explain something simple to a mentally challenged individual, “why I would fear the likes of you. If not for her intervention, would you still be alive to spout nonsense?”Estelle does not need to categorically mention the ‘her’ in this context. Everyone knows that the only witch who wields power over
Once upon a time, there lived a powerful witch, with magic as powerful as time itself and a beauty that was beyond this world. Unable to completely break free of the psychological shackles that had bound her as a witchling, she chose to dwell in a cave, isolated from the rest of her kind. Perhaps, it was a good decision, for everyone else feared her as much as she feared herself, or even more. As they say, out of sight is out of mind. And thus, she was gradually forgotten.She had a rather queer relationship with her sister, for they were not friends, but they could not be said to be enemies either. They were as different as lard and cheese, yet they could trust each other a pinch.The horns of war beckoned once more, and her sister, alongside many other powerful witches and wizards, joined in the battle for supremacy against the spawns of Hell. This time, however, she was left with the last child of her sister, a witchling that had barely lived up to half a century.
“Stop beating about the bush and tell us what you have discovered, Heidi.” One of the older witches berates her, and she apologises with a pout. Her sullen expression makes he look all the more adorable.Heidi. A beautiful name for an equally beautiful woman.Estelle Vane is not so self-absorbed to think that she is the only beautiful witch in the world. And she does not mince words when it comes to admiring something that is deservedly worthy of the label ‘beautiful’.This does not affect her stance though. Heidi and the rest of her acquaintances will be reduced to corpses today, and the High Witch will make sure of that. nothing can threaten the safety of her daughter. Not at this time.She can only blame herself for being with the wrong people.“Awakening is a matter of joy and a cause for celebration, because at last, the children are becoming adults. More importantly, the Awakening of the so-call
Were Sandara here, she would notice the tell-tale signs of nervousness- a ticked jaw, slightly narrowed eyes and the twitching of the left little finger- on the High Witch’s face. But, she isn’t, and the ones who are here are none the wiser.“I do not recall making a formal announcement of an Awakening, so I would like to know the basis of this declaration.”“So you admit it, then.”“Admit what?”“Admit that you neglected to announce your daughter’s Awakening.”“I admit to nothing. I have no knowledge of the matters you speak of.”Estelle chooses to play dumb, and everyone in this room knows it. Since she refuses to admit to anything, there is no evidence against her. All they have are just allegations. Mere words that do not hold water before the council or any other regulatory body they can report her to.It's annoying when you know the truth but cannot pr
Natalia’s failed awakening has far-reaching consequences than she can ever imagine.When a child fails, he or she does not fail alone.Failure spreads out to its surroundings, like the butterfly effect. Everyone around you is as affected by your failure as they are by your success.And when your identity is special, the pressure you face is tougher than you can imagine. There is a lot at stake. Perfection is required of you, and this slowly but inevitably becomes the norm. Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown, true. But for the scion of the crown-wearer, things are worse.You cannot fail.You dare not fail.Estelle Vane is one of the most powerful witches to ever walk the Earth, but even she is not exempt from this convention.One of the motives behind the witches’ acceptance of a hybrid as their supreme ruler is due to the potential she possesses. Who cares if her blood is diluted? The power inherent in it is already
Realizing that his nonchalant words may have upset and somehow irked a certain highly-ranked demon, Maestro Baghül rephrases his sentence in a less detached manner. We want to poke the dear, but let’s not overdo it.“Prior to completing his first task, he wasn’t my student. But that is beside the point. Your scion decided to enter with a bang, and my beloved gate has to face the consequences of his flamboyant actions. As if that was not enough, his guard vomited all over my rug. My rug!For Lucifer’s sake! That rug is…”“a rare, exotic gift from the mortal realm. I know. I doubt you will let me hear the end of it though.” Pride does not let his former colleague finish. But can these words be enough to stop a disgruntled ghoul from airing his grievances? Highly unlikely.There is a reason ghouls are unforgiving, grudge-keeping creatures.“I am not particularly concerned with what y
Travis hangs limply in the air, blood continuously streaming from his orifices like water from a tap.At this rate, he’d be dead.Oh no! what have I done!The panic worsens Klade’s condition, and he struggles to breathe. He begins to choke on his vomit, and the chief ghoul knows that he has to intervene before things get out of hand. Grumbling to himself about being cheated by Pride, he drops Travis on a mattress he conjured out of air in an unceremonious fashion.Upon reaching Klade, he realizes that the whites of the guard’s eyes have begun showing.This is bad. Just what did Pride do to him to trigger this?Hitting Klade’s chest does little to quell the rising panic reflected in the guard’s eyes. Were this situation not so dire, Maestro Bahgül would’ve tried to capture this on a canvas. The lack of technology like the digital camera necessitated the use of painting or drawi
A loud crash rouses Klade from the depths of a restless, worry-filled slumber.It is said that when a body at a state of rest or in uniform motion is interrupted by a moving force, dissonance and chaos, the not-so-distant siblings of confusion, ensue.Klade springs up like a provoked python rearing to unleash a fatal strike, but the restraints around him remind him of the reality of his situation. Most binds would’ve loosened by now, if he didn’t manage to shred them apart. But this is not ‘most binds’.This are binds set in place by a chief ghoul in his prime. And if he doesn’t want you to move, you have no other choice. You must stay as you are.With his senses strengthened by his ancestor’s blessing, Klade can sense that his sudden, violent movement placed a great strain on his restraints. But he also senses that they are nowhere close to snapping.He would have broken into a flurry of colourful swear words, h