Page 7 of Her Demon Daddy
Besides, there is no telling how such a summons would go, even if Oltyx did deem to answer it. His wrath is not to be toyed with, and the god clearly no longer has an interest in entertaining me. He could expose everything, ruineverything, but instead the bastard seems content to toy with me.
Thunder claps in the distance, as if the god has sensed the direction of my thoughts and is issuing a warning. I gulp against the sudden tightness in my throat, shaking off my train of thought. There’s no use brooding- I know what must be done.
“Drar’ran!” I bark, shattering the silence of my room. Scuttling echoes outside my door before the knob turns, the blind demon appearing in the doorway.
“Yes, Hooded One?”
“Dress me. Immediately.”
Drar’ran springs into action, whispering hurried orders to the other blind servants lingering outside. Another two join him as he gathers up my armor and hood, the three of them working in tandem to robe me and settle the heavy armor over my shoulders.
I watch them work in the reflection of the large mirror on the wall, watching as everything that makes me a demon, or recognizable as something of this planet or any other, leeches away.
By the time the armor is strapped across my shoulders and the hood is placed and carefully arranged around my horns, I no longer bear any resemblance to something of this plane. I loosen my hold on my chaos, allowing it to pulse around the hooded figure I see in the reflection.
My horns spiral up and back from beneath the heavy hood, obscuring my face entirely save for the gleam of my eyes in the shadows. Every inch of my skin except for my hands is covered in a similar dark fabric, adding to the theatrical image and allowing my armor to take center stage.
The black armor resting from leather straps at my shoulders seems to swallow the light around it, the ornate gold edges gleaming subtly in the dancing firelight. Seeing the subtle indentation across the breastplate makes my throat constrict suddenly, and I have to push away the memories that try to rise to the forefront of my mind at the sight.
“My King?” Drar’ran intones from behind me. I’d all but forgotten he was here.
“Where is the woman?” I ask, anxious energy pooling at my fingertips. I do not relish this duty, but it must be done, as much for my people as for me.
“They are preparing her as we speak.”
“Good. You are dismissed.”
Drar’ran leaves with hardly a sound, but I don’t allow myself to fully exhale until the door shuts behind him. I’m on more uneven footing than I have ever been- not just because of everything that’s happening with Oltyx, but because of my own damn mind. Memories of home plague me, the events that led me here repeating in every quiet moment, robbing me of any semblance of peace.
It’s as if I’m still trapped in that godsdamned war, still fighting for my life any time I try to take a breath. I feel as though I’m battling the gods themselves, all just to eke out some semblance of life for myself and my people.
It is as exhausting as it is infuriating, but I have no time for rest, no time for weakness. I did my best, I tell myself. They would have all died were it not for me- there is no changing what has been done, and the memories will plague me for the rest of my life.
I collapse back into the chair by the fireplace, staring into the flames once more as I wait for the woman to be brought to me. A growing dread swirls in my stomach, as if in warning of something to come. I face too many unknowns, too many threats to my empire right now.
That must be why the memories have grown worse, harder to ignore.
As if summoned by my thoughts of them, another memory, one of my most frequent tormentors, surfaces and swallows me whole.
Ikoth stretches out around me in my mind, the earth black and rich and the sky a brilliant red, as if stuck in a permanent, glowing dusk. A sudden, burning longing fills me at the sight of my home, at the vivid smell of damp earth and constant wind that even my memory cannot dull.
There are many times that I wish for nothing more than to return to Ikoth, but even in the midst of my memory, I know I can never do that. For all my longing, Ikoth was as much hell as it was home. The terror of constant war, the powerlessness that permeated my life there, all begin to flood back as the memory surges forward.
The dazoneth mare beneath me flies like the wind, the roaring, constant hoofbeats behind me echoing across the plains like a war drum. Soil is kicked up with each of her hoofbeats, but I ride her harder, push her to go faster. The distress signal went up nearly an hour ago- with every second that passes, we will only lose more demons, and the xaphan’s victory becomes more imminent.
I glance over my shoulder, my battalion following closely behind. The Ikoth flag is raised, blacks and bloody crimsons fluttering in the wind. The grim, determined set of the faces of my soldiers pushes me harder.
“Faster! Stay on your guard! We’re nearly there!” I encourage over the din, returning my attention to the path ahead. It winds between two embankments, and hardly over half a mile ahead, we should reach the clearing the distress signal came from.
Black earth rises on either side of us as we ride faster, picking up speed as we near our destination. The embankments make it seem as though we are riding into the belly of Aerasak itself, deep into the planet’s core. As the waves of earth crest over us, I can’t help but remember the dread I felt in this moment, as if I knew it was all about to go wrong.
I try to steel myself against the inevitable gore waiting for us, but the anxiety of battle roils in my blood nonetheless. How many soldiers will I lose this time? How long until all of the demons under my care are claimed by this brutal war?
I’m so lost in thought that when I see the first glimmer of gold at the top of the steep embankments surrounding us, I don’t react. It’s not until the second flash of gold, contrasted by a snatch of white, soft feathers, that the panic overtakes me.
“XAPHAN!” I roar, yanking the reins of my dazoneth, but it’s too little too late. Countless xaphan, far more than the demons I have at my back, appear at the tops of the embankments.
We’re trapped.