Chapter Twelve
D ays are like sludge.
My body is always rigid and tense.
And Morfran, my fucking pathetic brother won’t fuck off.
Attacking a few witches for answers about Elswyth led to trades being cut off. Fuck them. We don’t need their shit. It’s probably all tainted anyway.
And I didn’t physically attack them really. I just sort of, prevented them from leaving before giving me the answers I was looking for. The hard part was, most of the village witches didn’t even know who Elswyth was. Not until I said she was an elf halfling. Then they would each make a face like they swallowed something sour.
Deep down I wanted to hate them for making that face about her. But the truth is, I was starting to make the face myself when talking about her.
At least our village isn’t suffering from the lack of trade. In fact, most demon villages don’t have a witch--or any other magickal sect--close enough to have a trade established. It was my father’s friendships with the witch village women that led to our trading in the first place. So we are more than capable of surviving without the trade. So what if we have to grow some extra patches or gardens? It’s not that big of a hardship.
Then comes Morfran, prattling on and on every day about how stories aren’t adding up.
But see... I know the truth.
I know the secret.
After I managed to peel Euyriale off me again last night, she told me the truth.
I have no interest in mating with her. I never have and she knows it. But that doesn’t stop her from pawing at me like a starving cat. And when she touches me, I can’t even manage to be aroused. She kisses like a pig snorting around in slop and her hands are rough and groping. There are no soft nibbles or caresses. There’s no... emotion in the actions she throws at me.
What she managed to tell me between her second and third attempts at undoing my pants, was that the only other demon who had ever been seen with that witch was none other than my piece of shit little brother.
I let her kiss me after and pretended to enjoy it when she managed to stick her hands down my pants. I even kept from gagging this time. But I didn’t do it for nothing. In exchange for the brief allowance of--can I even call it affection?--whatever it was, Euyriale provided me with a curse from one of her old books she brought with her when she came to our village. She gives it to me on a hand-written paper, and soon after I manage to get her out of my pants, my bed, and my house.
It only cost me to promise to spend time with her again. I just conveniently left out the ‘when’ part of that agreement.
The curse she gave me is one hell of a doozy. It’s one that you don’t cast lightly. One that will make my brother pay for his betrayal. Not forever. Just until he admits that he betrayed me.
Until then, he can... squawk all he likes.
Tomorrow is Lughnasadh and with our magicks heightened on the sacred days, I plan to use it to my advantage to place the spell on my brother.
Euyriale--my second in command--offered to lead the village celebrations, which I gladly agreed to. It’s one less thing I have to worry about right now. And to be honest, I have no interest in joining in any festivities.
Gods be damned.
My joy is long dead.
Lost to sapphire eyes and a smile that could brighten the darkest of days.
Instead, I feel nothing but dead and bitter inside.
If tears still fall from my tired eyes every night, I blame it on my endless pain and anger...
And not the aching organ that calls for the missing half of my soul.
Chaos.
That singular word describes the scene before me.
Lughnasadh was supposed to be a celebration of the harvest and when a lot of our youth would announce their courting for a mate. In the past years, it has been filled with foods of every color and drinks-a-plenty. We would dance and sing and enjoy life into the wee hours of the morning.
But that is not what this is.
I don’t know where I went wrong. Or what could have led this carnage to befall my people? Or worse, what could have possibly enticed my second in command to take us from celebrations of life to putrid death and destruction?
Our crops aren’t the only things now decimated.
But my shock and anguish will save no one from the mess I have led us to.
From the downfall of this demon faction.
I would give anything in the world for my brother’s counsel right now. Although I am not even sure that he could help me fix all of this. And he is long gone.
Just one more thing that is my fault.
Hours ago, Morfran and I argued. I never truly wanted to enact the curse I had gotten from Euyriale. My intent was merely to use it to scare the truth from his lips.
I loved my brother and while sharing a lover with him was not ideal, it was something that was openly done. But the secrecy of it all tore at me. They did it to hurt me. I just knew it.
But he continued to deny my accusations. He even tried to tell me that he discovered she was actually pregnant with my child. Of all the cruel games he could have played with me, that one was what broke me. I spat the foul-sounding spell at him and watched in horror as his body contorted and changed shape. Leaving behind a large raven with terrified eyes.
Before I could even try to fix what I had done, the bird launched into the air and flew out of sight.
And now...
Chaos.
Blood and mangled bodies of my faction lay everywhere in the village.
Fires burning the homes of my people to the ground.
Magickals in black robes move about and pull anyone they find out of hiding. I hear the screams of the men, women, and children I swore an oath to lay my life down for. The sights and sounds are too much to bear, but the Gods took my magick when I cursed my poor brother. And these beings have seen fit to secure me with bindings that prevent me from moving very far. I turn my head when they pull a pregnant woman out of her hiding spot. But my wretched eyes latch on to something far more horrid.
Mere feet away from me lies a baby long since gone cold in its swaddle blanket.
I scream and rage and rip at the ropes, but it’s no use. I cannot break free.
“Fuck you all! I hope the Gods rip you to pieces!”
One of the robed beings laughs and moves closer to me. Thankfully blocking my view as the woman’s sobs turn to screams.
“The old Gods are gone, Orobas. In their place, we have made one of our own.” The hollowed voice sounds vaguely familiar, but before I can place them the ground shakes with a resounding thump.
When the being steps to the side, I see the most grotesque creature I ever thought possible. It’s a creature of myth, and yet, here it is. Still, a thought nudges at me and when I look closely at the creature’s shoulder, I spot a familiar birthmark, before it fades into the sinewy white skin.
No. That’s crazy. That can be possible.
“Euyriale?”
“The warrior sacrificed her vessel to our new God. The God that will bring us all the power we truly deserve and bring an end to the blight of the humans!”
As one the beings around me call out together.
Colo Creatori
Dear Gods, what has my pain and neglect birthed into this world?
The monster of all magickals childhood nightmares has birthed into being.
The Creatori has risen.
And the world will fall.
Dear Gods, send help. For surely more than my decimated village will be lost.
No magickal sect is safe. Not even the fae.
The nightmare is of pure pain and suffering. Offering a death of the most finality. For anyone it consumes will be forever lost and unable to pass into the Ether.
And nothing will satiate its hunger for more.
Dear Gods, please forgive me.