Demon

The tale of a fallen hero

My journey has come to an end, for I am now at my last vigil. There are no more quests to undertake, and no more villains to be slain. Nothing remained ahead of me but my final quest. Once, I had tirelessly fought to bring peace to the realm, but the fruits of my labour are bitter and empty.

Facing this grim task, I have tried to find meaning in my vigil, seeking purpose in my current existence. Sadly, nothing worked, much to my chagrin. Not even the solace the gods offered soothed me, for I would sooner try to kill one than ever bend my knee to any of them.

Perhaps it was this mentality towards life that brought me to my final quest, for I was one who longed for the thrill of great battles and even greater foes. At the height of my power, I had a dread god sealed away, imprisoned in a tomb high up in the mountains, away from the realm of man. I would have slain him at the scene of that grim battle, but even I lacked the power to destroy the body of a divine being. Still, little of him remained, for our battle had left him a mere obsidian husk of a once great dragon, trapped in a dreamless sleep.

Defeating such a great scourge came at no small cost. Merely the act of subduing him alone had left the world devoid of guardians, for many were devoured whole by his ebon maw or seared to ash by his black flames. Being the only one left that was capable of the monumental task that lay ahead, it was only fitting that I be anointed his jailor, bound to an eternal vigil.

It is ironic indeed, that the culmination of my hopes and dreams has amounted to this.  So says The Whisperer, constantly reminding me of my solitude at every waking hour with her silky, yet poisonous words.

My sole companion in this last vigil, she is a dark whisper of a phantom, a feminine voice that speaks only to me. Somehow, she knows everything about me, for she sings to me of my darkest secrets, and my deepest shame in an unending ballad of despair. A part of me wants to dismiss her words as little more than twisted fictions, designed solely to lure me into an inescapable web of deceit. Yet, she and I both know better, for I have done many things that I am not proud of, all in the name of the greater good.

Many times I have screamed and begged her, hoping that she would leave me alone. Still, her voice is unwavering and malevolent, steadfastly composing her viperous sonata, as though taking a sick delight in my suffering. She speaks to me when I am awake, taunting me in-between bouts of musical torment. Through her words, I hear the dying screams of my fallen comrades, whose mouths rasped with the names of their loved ones as I held them in their last moments. Was I ever good enough to be a hero? If I was, would they still be alive? It is a maddening rhapsody that tears at me from the inside.

Even in my dreams I am denied respite from her poisonous tongue, for she performs her envenomed sonatas even while I seek the solace of my dreams. Her words remind me of the bloodied heart of an innocent goddess, whose name eludes me in the mania of my dreams, whose blood I had used to temper my blade. It was a wicked sacrifice, done against her will, all in the accursed name of heroism. Back then, times were dire, and the only way to stop the dread god was to wound him with something cursed by the divines themselves. It was a shame too, for I loved her, even as she cursed my name with her last breaths.

Many nights were spent wishing for the peace of death, that it may somehow deliver me from my tormented existence. Alas, like my charge, I too could never die, for the gods themselves had rewarded me with life unending, that my vigil will remain steadfast for all time. Little do they know that what they consider their greatest boon is in fact their greatest curse, for immortality in a mortal realm was but an undying curse. I would have refused them this duty, but unwillingly, I had to accede to their request. After all, should the prisoner reawaken, I would have to be there, amidst the universal pandemonium that was sure to result. Such was my fate, to be a blade against the consuming darkness till the end of time.

Then again, perhaps they did know, and armed with this knowledge, they have used it to spite me. After all, the gods, curse them, have always resented my lack of faith in their divinity. Such an arrangement left me little more than an unwilling puppet to their grand design, forced to protect their creations from their greatest enemy.  I know this, for The Whisperer’s words remind me of it constantly, imploring me to break the net the gods have cast upon my fate. Perhaps, it is little more than toxic cajoling, yet with each passing season, her point became increasingly... valid.

Once, I took to my vigil with the conviction of prophecy, believing my task to be for the good of everyone. Since then, The Whisperer has serenaded her poison to me, and her vile words have become purer and sweeter with each passing moon. Through her sonatas, I know that the gods who set me upon this vigil have deceived me, the whole affair little more than a distraction meant to seal both their hated enemies away forever.

And she is right, for no longer shall I be a puppet for their cruel games. I say this because she has told me of the way to set things right. All I have to do is bathe my body in the inky blood of the dread god, and take his cursed essence into myself. So sayeth The Whisperer, and with her words guiding my steps, I shall finally be free of my predicament.

At her behest, I ventured down into the ancient catacombs, seeking my destiny, doom driven, like all heroes past, present and future. Following her cajoling words, I opened the forbidden chamber with the tongues of old, the very chamber I have guarded for countless centuries. Stepping upon its sacred ground, I laid eyes upon my ancient adversary, still trapped in his dreamless sleep, his draconic frame now a nightmarish fountain leaking an inky, black blood, much like a river of death.

Facing his terrible visage, I felt my footsteps slow to a crawl, for the sight of him alone set my mind awash with pangs of pure, unadulterated terror. However, The Whisperer is quick to intervene, her silky words allaying my apprehension like the silk sheets of a warm bed. Under her guiding words, I hesitated no longer, for I knew that my destiny was at hand.

By her command, I submerged myself into the shadowy mire. Waves of euphoria began to surge within me as his black blood seared my flesh into a charred husk. As if in tandem with her words, I felt my already considerable powers expand exponentially, as though my mind was being overloaded by an infinite multitude of thoughts and memories.

Was this the feeling of ascension? It was a truly divine sensation, for I could now feel the energies of the world surging through me, burning my veins as though I was set alight by a sacred flame. Yet, despite this euphoria, an overwhelming hunger now gnawed within the dark recesses of my soul, beckoning me to devour anything and everything before me. Thankfully, it was but a mere triviality, for I knew that there was now a whole world ahead of me, just waiting to be devoured.

As I revelled in my metamorphosis, I felt something materialize behind me. It embraced me with the cold sting of death as it whispered a single, dreadful phrase into my ear.

“Now... we are one!”

Silky and musical, it sent pangs of despair through every fibre of my being, like the whispers of an old enemy. Turning around, I caught sight of a red-haired lady, dressed in a white robe that was stained with black blood. Ignoring my shock at her presence, she embraced me, a wicked smile curled upon her blackened lips. Each passing second in her arms made me feel as though a chasm was being torn into my soul, as if to make way for something insidious and corrupt.

Fearing the worst, I wrapped my hands, now ebon claws, around her neck in a vice-like grip, the full extent of my fear and hatred thrust upon the enemy before me.

“No! We… I… was… to… be… reborn…” she gasped, staring at me with widened eyes, as though utterly surprised by the sudden turn of events. Even as I held her in my claws, she seemed desperate to speak, struggling fervently in between futile gasps of air. Unfortunately for her, my grip had rendered any words little more than incoherent rasps, denying her even the simple luxury of cursing of my name as she breathed her last.

Then again, what she had to say didn’t matter in the slightest, for I knew who she was, and what she had done to me. Smiling, I relaxed my grip, causing her body to fall lifelessly to the floor; her eyes still wide open.

“I serve no one now! Not the gods, and least of all you, Balthazar!” I bellowed, sneering at the lifeless puppet that held the soul of my ancient nemesis, thoroughly disgusted by his pathetic machinations. However, there was little time to gloat, for within seconds, the body had melted into a black, sticky ichor, much like the cursed blood that now coursed through my veins.

Armed with my newfound power, I departed the prison of my ancient foe, ready to devour the world under the shadow of my black wings. Bursting forth from the shattered rubble that was once the mountain of my last vigil, I let out a roar that resounded through the skies like a bell tolling the doom of all creation. Unfurling my wings in a swathe of sharpened scythes, I took flight towards my destiny, ready to devour it whole.

From this day forth, I swore no longer to be a plaything of the gods. Rather, I would take my place in the world, not as a god, but as someone who successfully undermined the gods and their grand design.

A demon, if you will.

Author's Note

Hi!

Do let me know what you think! If you've enjoyed this story, do check out my book on the Amazon Kindle Store, The Best of Aurafiex - A Short Story Collection.

Buy it now at https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01GX7EVLC

Have a nice day!

Reviews

[Cyndy Robinson]

Great read. Lots of thought process and characterization here. Some philosphy, loved it!

[Aurafiex]

Thanks! Haven't seen you in quite a while, so welcome back!

[Cyndy Robinson]

Thanks just been incredibly busy.

[Jacob Clifford]

I really liked the grim nature with which this story was told. It had my attention throughout. Don't be afraid to shake up your sentence structure once in a while to keep things from getting repetitive.

[Aurafiex]

Thanks! Which bits did you find repetitive?

[Jacob Clifford]

It wasn't that I found any story aspects repetitive, but you used to same sentence structure often, which wasn't visually appealing. Like the sentences "By her command..." "Facing this terrible visage..." "At her behest..." They all have the same style at the start of the sentence. It's just something to try to not have several times in a row, if that makes sense.

[David Margono]

It's very well written, with good use of vocabulary and the story flows pretty well and keeps the person reading. Keep up the good work :)

[Aurafiex]

Thank you!

[May]

This was a wonderful read. The story flowed so smooth and made me want to read on and on trying to get to the end to see how this would turn out. Thank you for writing this. Now I'm off to look for more stories from you. :)

[Aurafiex]

Thanks! I look forward to your continued patronage!