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
Empires implode from within due to their excesses.Llearth has heard these words repeatedly from the council of elite ghouls; his role as a Supreme Messenger grants him access to several places- risky, but worth it in the end. Although it hurts to admit it, the absolute reality is as glaring as the flames of Hell.Demons, the so-called chosen ones, who have been at the forefront of the forces of Hell have now become lax, complacent, and languorous. The legacy of the infamous Vládci světa of old stands the risk of falling into utter destruction and the irony is that no one seems to care. Everyone has become too invested in the present to see the bleakness of the future. Blinded by the cacophonies of the moment, they have failed to pay attention to the originally untainted melodies of the future that have now begun to warp into discordant sounds.A war is coming. And the demons will be a
Paying no heed to the conflicted look on the face of the lesser demon, Brandon pulls the bag towards himself, intending to resume his preparation. But Llearth does not let go of the bag, and the duo soon start to struggle for the bag, neither refusing to let go.I never realised that his eyes could be so beautiful. I know its just the human disguise he chose for himself, but I cannot help how I feel; it’s just too beautiful.Unknowingly, Brandon’s grip on the bag loosens. The force Llearth is exerting to hold on to the bag causes the half-demon to move towards him, crashing into the bag along the way. Unprepared for this, Llearth’s stance falters and the demonic duo tumbles to the floor quite clumsily.Brandon finds himself on top of Llearth, but one look at his eyes weakens his resolve to get off. Oddly enough, the lesser demon is looking at him with the same intensity and a bit of incredulity, as if he cannot imagine that this is act
Brandon Läwst is not the son of Lust in name alone. A century of self-reliance and being accountable to no one has given him more than enough time to discover himself, in and out. However, the arrival of Llearth makes him reconsider. Do I really know who I am?The life of a successful scientist cum business mogul entails utmost discipline and clear-headedness, as one must be able to separate business from pleasure. Yet Brandon suddenly feels a bit averse to this idea, and he finds himself wanting to experience both worlds at once. What would it feel like to enjoy absolute pleasure on one hand, whilst holding on tightly to true purpose at the same time?Brandon adds this question to his ever-growing list of questions. From the corner of his eye, he sees the lesser demon packing the supplies into the boot of the car. He notices the natural charisma that surrounds the latter, making it seems as if he is always glowing. And perhaps he is. He’s a dem