Chapter 17
Chapter seventeen
Scorpio
The demon I’d captured last year ended up coming in useful.
He’d refused initially, but resistance was futile.
All I had to do was uncap the little vial of gas that was made from my blood, and he had the portal to Besmet opened up in the blink of an eye.
I grinned as I stepped through the swirling portal, the air around me crackling with energy.
The sensation was disorienting—like being pulled apart and reassembled molecule by molecule.
My stomach lurched as I was deposited onto unfamiliar ground, but I maintained my composure. Weakness wasn't an option.
Besmet. The demon realm.
The sky above me was a violent swirl of crimson and black, like blood mixing with ink. The air tasted metallic, charged with something primal that made my skin tingle. Power. Raw, unfiltered power pulsed through this place, and I could feel it calling to me, seeping into my veins like a drug.
"Fuck," I whispered, unable to contain my awe as I took in the landscape. Jagged mountains pierced the horizon, their peaks disappearing into roiling clouds. The ground beneath my feet was obsidian, gleaming like polished glass. Everything here felt ancient and dangerous.
I adjusted the new mask on my face—a sleek silver one covering only my eyes and the bridge of my nose, different from my usual leather face covering. The Exiled couldn't know I was here. Not yet.
A shadow passed overhead, and I looked up to see a massive creature soaring through the blood-red sky. A dragon—its scales glittering like black diamonds, wings spanning wider than any aircraft I'd ever seen. My breath caught in my throat.
"Now that," I murmured, watching the magnificent beast circle overhead, "is exactly what I need."
My mind raced with possibilities. Dragons. Creatures of immense power and intelligence. If I could harness that power, control them as I controlled humans... the thought sent a shiver of pleasure down my spine. I could build an army unlike anything either realm had ever seen.
Another dragon joined the first, then another. They were gathering, circling like vultures. Something was happening.
In the distance, a massive structure loomed against the horizon—a castle of black stone and twisted spires that seemed to have grown organically from the mountainside. It pulsed with an energy I could feel even from there, a beacon of power calling to me.
I started walking toward it, drawn like a moth to flame. My boots crunched on the volcanic soil, sending small puffs of ash into the air with each step. This place was primal, untamed—nothing like the sterile world I'd left behind.
"I could rule here," I said to myself, the words tasting sweet on my tongue. "This realm was made for someone like me."
The thought of Palmer flashed through my mind. She was here somewhere, with her ghost lover and those pathetic Exiled. But in this realm, surrounded by such raw power, they didn't stand a chance against what I was becoming.
A distant roar echoed across the landscape, followed by what sounded like an explosion. Smoke rose from one of the castle's towers. There was a battle happening—one I wasn't aware of. No matter. Chaos created opportunity.
I quickened my pace, moving with purpose toward the castle. More dragons circled overhead, some diving toward the structure. Their fire illuminated the sky in brilliant flashes of blue and gold. It was magnificent, terrifying, and I wanted to possess it all.
"Control the dragons, control the realm," I muttered, formulating plans as I walked. I'd need to study them, learn their weaknesses. Every creature had a breaking point—I just needed to find theirs.
A smaller dragon landed on a ridge not far from me, its scales a deep emerald green.
It hadn't noticed me yet, too focused on the battle ahead.
I crouched behind a boulder, watching, studying its movements.
Its eyes were intelligent, calculating. This wasn't some mindless beast—it was a thinking, feeling creature.
Perfect. The intelligent ones were always more satisfying to break.
I continued my approach to the castle, staying in the shadows. The closer I got, the more the energy of this place seeped into me. It was intoxicating, like nothing I'd ever felt before. This realm recognized power and respected it. And I had power in abundance.
"Besmet," I tasted the name on my tongue, savoring it like fine wine. "You and I are going to become very well acquainted."
As I neared the castle gates, I pulled my cloak tighter around me, ensuring my identity remained hidden. The silver mask glinted in the crimson light as I blended into the chaos of battle. No one noticed another shadow among so many.
This was just the beginning. Palmer thought she could escape me by coming here, but she'd only led me to my destiny. And when I found her—when I showed her what I was becoming in this realm of power—she'd finally understand.
We were always meant to rule together. Whether she wanted to or not.
The stench of smoke and blood hung heavy in the air, mingling with the acrid tang of scorched earth.
I stepped into the courtyard, surveying the devastation that lay before me.
The battle was over, but it felt like a wound that had yet to close.
Bodies sprawled across the cobblestones, some still in their last throes of agony, while others lay eerily still. A grim reminder of the chaos unleashed.
My heart raced as I walked through the carnage, the chaos whispering memories of what had just transpired.
Fire-blackened banners hung limply from their poles, and broken weapons littered the ground like discarded toys.
No one would dare touch this place for days—perhaps weeks—after such a brutal display.
I pushed deeper into the wreckage, feeling an unsettling sense of calm wash over me. This was my element: destruction and despair were my allies. I thrived in these moments when hope faltered and darkness reigned supreme.
If Asrael had been victorious, there would be signs. He'd be celebrating, publicly. Rubbing his enemies’ faces in it… which only meant…
I stepped onto the execution platform, boots crunching against discarded swords and weapons.
The ground was slick with blood, a vivid remnant of the chaos that had just unfolded.
My heart raced—not from fear, but from the thrill of power coursing through me.
I relished this moment, standing above the carnage like a god surveying his domain.
A glance to my left revealed a grotesque sight: a body, or what remained of one, riddled with blades protruding from every angle.
The corpse resembled a pincushion more than a human being, the glint of steel contrasting sharply against its pale skin.
It lay lifeless on the platform, headless and defiled.
“Now that’s quite the work of art,” I muttered, allowing myself a sardonic smile. A masterpiece created in the chaos I thrived upon.
My eyes followed a spray of crimson droplets trailing down toward an object resting just beyond the platform's edge.
My breath caught as I recognized it—Asrael's head.
It lay atop the stone like an offering, eyes wide in disbelief even in death.
Such arrogance had led him to this moment; he thought himself untouchable.
How poetic that he met his end at the hands of those he sought to control.
I stepped closer to inspect him further. The fresh blood painted the ground around his severed neck in grotesque patterns, and an involuntary chuckle escaped my lips at the sight.
“Such a shame,” I taunted his lifeless form. “You were so full of yourself right until the very end.”
It was a fitting conclusion for someone who had spun webs of deceit for centuries—a master exploiter finally undone by his own machinations.
With deliberate care, I reached down and grasped his head by the hair, lifting it higher as if to display my prize to anyone still lurking nearby—though I doubted there were many left alive after this battle. Asrael’s blue eyes stared blankly ahead, still brimming with defiance despite his demise.
“Look at what happens when you underestimate your enemies,” I sneered, raising it higher as if addressing an invisible crowd beneath me. “You thought you could control everything? That your twisted games would never catch up with you? You’ve always been too arrogant for your own good.”
I let go of Asrael’s hair and tossed his head aside like yesterday's news—useless now that he was no longer breathing life into his pathetic schemes.
The wind picked up then, swirling around me and carrying away the scent of blood as if trying to cleanse this cursed place. But there was no cleansing what had happened here today; it would linger in the air long after we were gone.
I stepped back from the platform's edge and scanned what remained—the bodies strewn about like discarded toys after playtime had ended. Their lives snuffed out like candles extinguished by an indifferent hand; yet here I stood, victorious amidst their ruins.
"Let them know," I declared into the stillness around me. "Let them all know who truly holds power here."
A low rumble echoed across the battlefield—a growl from one of Asrael's surviving beasts lurking in shadows nearby. It sensed weakness and fear now that its master was gone; it would soon realize how foolish it would be to challenge me.
With deliberate steps forward, I maneuvered through remnants of armor and weaponry—trophies from the battle—but found myself drawn back to where Asrael's body lay crumpled on the stone floor beneath me.
I kicked aside a jagged sword lodged between two bricks—its sharp edge gleaming dully—and leaned down for another look at my fallen, headless foe.
"You underestimated everything," I whispered as if he could hear me still—though deep down I knew he wouldn’t rise again to meet my words with indignation or scorn. “Your downfall has only begun. I'm better than you. I always fucking have been.”
The winds shifted once more, and the temperature surrounding me suddenly plummeted, sending chills down my spine as something crackled in my core.
Every strand of hair on my body bristled upright, causing me to whirl around, scanning for the unseen observer that I knew was there.
I could detect a presence nearby. I hadn't gotten this far in my life without trusting my gut.
“Who's there?” I called out, my voice dripping with arrogance. The shadows clung to me like a second skin, and I had no time for phantoms. My victory felt too palpable, too sweet, to be spoiled by some wandering specter.
A flicker caught my eye at the end of the platform—just a shimmer at first. I blinked, wondering if fatigue was finally catching up to me after all that chaos.
But as the figure solidified before me, I recognized it from Palmer’s ramblings about spirits—wispy forms with an ethereal glow that pulsed like a heartbeat in the dark.
“Seriously?” I scoffed, leaning against the stone railing, a cocky grin spreading across my face. “You think I'm afraid of you? Look around! Asrael is dead. So let you be the first to hear, this place, all of this, is mine.”
The spirit floated closer, and the glow emanating from it pulsed angrily, and I felt a strange shiver run down my spine.
“Pathetic,” I sneered, though deep down, something twisted in my gut as I watched him approach. “I can't imagine how weak you must feel right now.” I laughed as the figure vibrated violently with rage. I was familiar enough with the emotion to easily identify it in any form.
"I'll let you in on a little secret, you angry little spirit.
Asrael always thought he was better than everyone else.
That he was ten steps ahead. Now look at him!
" I pointed to the body. "He's certainly well decorated in death, but not with what matters.
To be the most powerful, you have to be the most powerful. Defeat isn't an option. He was weak."
The spirit moved a step closer to me, and energy crackled in the air between us. I didn't think it was possible, but the air got even colder. Wind picked up with ferocity. The confident grin on my face began to fall as my bravado wavered for just a moment, as realization struck me. "Fuck—"
Before I could react, the spirit slammed into me like a freight train, sending shockwaves through my body. Pain radiated outward from where we connected—a surge of power so fierce it stole the breath from my lungs and knocked me off balance.
I stumbled back against the railing, grasping at thin air as confusion clouded my mind. This wasn’t just some petty ghost seeking revenge; this was fury manifesting into raw energy—a culmination of everything that had been and everything that had been lost.
“You should have known better,” his voice echoed around us, deep and rumbling like thunder after lightning strikes.
I struggled to maintain my footing against this unexpected force pushing into every corner of my being—invading thoughts I thought were mine alone.
“Get out!” I gasped, teeth clenched as I fought against it.
But Asrael only pressed harder—remnants of his darkness consuming me whole in a whirlwind of fury and regret that spiraled toward oblivion.