8
I hate being in the spotlight, and if a whole world knows who I am, that’s definitely too much exposure. A new threat, the meaning of which I don’t yet understand.
The cave is like a labyrinth, filled with dark corridors. They all look the same, and I lose my sense of space. I should have been paying attention from the beginning to know where we’re going, but obviously, it only occurs to me now.
The corridors widen, and instinctively, I draw closer to Lizander as demons emerge from the cave craters.
The walls are made of rock, marble, and columns of stone.
It seems like this is an underground castle.
A demon in front of me descends from the wall, and as it approaches, human skin covers its black flesh.
By the time it reaches the ground, it stands before me in human form.
He smiles at me, licks his lips, then turns to a female who I can only assume is a demon as well.
So, are they only alike in their monster forms?
Other demons appear, but they remain black, sharpening their long claws on the ground, making deep cuts in the soil.
As we pass by them, their teeth flash like vicious blades.
The light source changes as the space expands, allowing sunlight to filter in.
Okay, so they don’t burn in the sun. I was starting to think that’s why they live in caves.
I blink against the light. I’ve been underground for too long. Tiny spikes form on the ceiling, becoming sharper as we move forward.
“Don’t worry,” Lizander says as I anxiously clutch my head. “Only Darya can manipulate the spikes.”
“He has power over the entire cave?” I ask.
“Over a portion of it,” he replies, but he seems uncertain about it himself.
The horde of monsters thickens behind us, and all I can think of is how they might carry me like a roasted reindeer on a spit at a village celebration.
The space expands, the lights grow stronger, and as we pass through an arched entrance built of rocks, I come to a halt.
The grand hall is horrifyingly large, accommodating hundreds of demons.
Guards in thick, green uniforms, and with bold tattoos, help us carve a path through the demon crowd.
I’m not tall enough to see to the end of the hall, but I’m certain every demon is stretching to catch a glimpse of me.
I raise my hand as one of them flies over me before settling on a protruding rock.
Sharp teeth chatter near my ear, the air is heavy with the smell of blood and decay, and I taste the filth on my tongue. Fear is not the first thing I feel – it’s shock.
I can’t move.
I hear a growl, and one demon breaks from the crowd, charging straight at me. Lizander steps in front, pulling two knives from the sheaths attached to his thighs. He twirls them in the air, keeping the nightmares at bay.
I hear a voice behind me, saying, “Mine,” and all I sense is falling face-first to the ground. The air escapes me. A long, black tongue wraps around my ankle. A zombie-like creature with red eyes gazes at me. The blood rushes back into my frozen muscles. I scream.
Everything happens so fast.
The spike comes from the sky. With a massive impact, it tears the creature’s chest apart. The demon’s slimy tongue slides off me like a loose rope.
Strong hands grab me.
“Get up!” Lizander whispers forcefully, but I shake my head. I’ll never wake up from this nightmare. “Get up!” he whispers again, more gently. “Don’t let them see you so weak! You won’t last a day among them.” He leans closer to me and says, “Think about what your brother would see now.”
I stare at him in astonishment. How does he know about Bengt?
His mentioning my brother dispels the panic. It all began then, with my brother when I was five. They didn’t believe me. And now, an imagined demon has attacked me.
I want answers.
With Lizander’s help, I manage to stand up. It’s interesting how the dead give us reasons to live.
I don’t look at the corpse. I only look forward, in the direction where Lizander is pulling me.
The crowd falls silent; they no longer want to attack.
I spot Darya at the top of an ivory-colored staircase.
He sits in a chair with a backrest adorned with snakes winding towards the ceiling.
The staircase is built of stone, supporting the Demon King above everyone.
On his right arm, a snow-white raven screeches, and Darya gently strokes the bird’s neck.
I can see the demon’s gray eyes better as we approach the stairs.
He casually holds his chin in one hand, his legs merging into the dark stone throne.
Around him, poison-green vines hang, their grape clusters in orchid hues.
He plays with a grape in his hand. A few steps down, Sylla stands with her eerie gaze fixed on me.
The sky-blue snake still rests on her head.
Next to the woman, there’s a tall, blue-skinned, bald, muscular giant.
His elongated face is stern and joyless.
On the other side of Darya, a few steps further down, there’s a gnome-like, horribly ugly, green figure.
Its repulsive teeth flash sharply at me.
Its hair is messy and spiky, barely covering its wrinkled scalp.
It smiles at me, nodding its head eagerly.
Its whole body trembles as if constantly in motion.
I draw closer to Lizander, and the green imp laughs. Its voice is as thin as its body.
“Funny, funny!” it shouts at me as we approach, pointing at Lizander. “That you feel safe with this—”
“Shut up, Hépotis!” Lizander hisses at him, but the gnome continues singing the word funny while hopping.
When we stop, he falls silent, and like Lizander next to me and every demon in the room, he also kneels before Darya.
I’m not sure what I should do. I feel like I should kneel too, but Darya is not my king. I look into the eyes of the Kraldem.
He visibly enjoys my discomfort and stretches out on the throne like a cat, exuding a presence that makes me feel much smaller. But I withstand his gaze.
“Rise,” Darya commands gently with a wave of his hand. He tosses a grape into his mouth. As I glance back at the dark mass, I see that the impaled monster hasn’t yet been removed. Nausea creeps in. Will they eat it?
“Come closer, Lotte,” Darya calls in a soft but authoritative tone. I gulp, taking slow steps forward. A thousand hungry demon eyes follow.
“Closer,” the Kraldem instructs, and whispers unfold in the background. My eyes flash to the raven on the armrest and I feel a bead of sweat runs down my neck. The bird’s three blood-red eyes stare.
I reach Darya, standing before him. The tattoos flowing from inner corners of the demon’s eyes make it seem as if he’s shedding tears of blood.
His dark leather jacket stops at his elbows, leaving the thin tattoos on his forearms exposed.
They appear to me incomprehensible scribbles.
He supports his head with a hand covered in sleeveless black gloves.
The other arm rests on the throne, tapping the stone with dark claws.
His silver hair and pale skin glow like the moon at night.
Darya is terribly beautiful.
The demon slowly scans me, and I feel naked again. I cross my arms in front of my chest. I should have guessed this would amuse him. A hidden smile plays on his face, much like Sylla’s. Perhaps they are siblings?
Placing both hands on the armrest, he gracefully rises and regards the room commandingly. Everyone pales in comparison to him, including me. I don’t even reach his shoulders with my one hundred and sixty centimeters.
He steps towards me, fingers gripping my chin. His pointed claws perform a threatening dance on my neck. His scent reminds me of a damp cave. My skin warms under his touch.
He slides his dark claws down to my shoulders, placing his other hand on my waist. I shiver at the touch, my chest moving faster. Darya turns towards the crowd.
Until now, I had excluded their voices, but it’s as if I’m waking up from a daze. I hear them again, snarling. The Demon King raises his hand.
A hush falls over the room.
“Nosoik,” he says. Demons – I understand his words again.
“I acknowledge your hunger. This human here,” he continues, pointing to me with one hand, while subtly sinking the claws of his other into my waist, “will become one of us. She is the one who will find the ultimate hope.” He looks at me tellingly.
“The hope we’ve been searching for, for so long. All of us.”
His last words are so soft I’m not sure if anyone else heard them. His eyes narrow as he speaks, his voice threatening, as if he’s holding a knife to each demon’s throat.
“But you already knew this, didn’t you? You knew I needed her.
And yet, among you, someone disobeyed my command.
Someone approached her, though I said it was forbidden.
Someone touched her, even when I declared you cannot.
Someone wanted to kill her,” he says, squeezing the last sentence through his teeth, approaching the final explosion, “even though I ordered that she remain unharmed.”
He pauses, giving everyone a moment to ponder, causing me to understand that they may not be as brainless as they appear.
“I said,” Darya continues, “that whoever rebels would wish they had killed themselves. Bring him in,” he instructs, his gaze on two guards.
They nod and drop a demon’s head in front of the throne stairs.
The stench of decay hits my nose. It was the demon who attacked me in the barn after the angels kidnapped me.
“Kiriem,” he says, pointing to the dead demon’s head, “thought he could defy my orders.”
The crowd begins to stir, some demons nervously raising their eyes to the sky.
“What’s more,” the Demon King continues, his eyes darkening, “so too did his squad and companions.”