Canedge, The Serpent Isles - 12th day of the Sardonyx Moon, Year 24 AH
Regis lunged, thrusting his sword into the nearest guard. The man only had enough time to widen his eyes before the metal pierced through his chest. Not stopping, he yanked his blade out and brought it in an arcing slash towards another enemy nearby.
Around him, the sounds of ringing metal and yells mixed into a deafening roar as the villagers pounced on the group. Most of them, Regis noted, were in guard uniforms and hastily drawing their weapons as the reality of their situation dawned on them. Some carried no weapons at all, having rushed outside too quickly to grab any. They were the first ones to fall.
[You have gained experience!]
“Get in formation!” a voice boomed. Regis tugged his blade out of his most recent target and glanced over at the source of the yell. Near the back of the crowd, a tall middle-aged man stood gripping a long spear. His uniform had a few additional embellishments on it, the demon noted. That must be Hendrick.
A few feet away, a villager screamed and fell backwards as one of the guards managed to land a blow on him. Lora released a furious yell and immediately cut the guard down in retaliation.
Regis brought his sword up to block an incoming blow. By now the initial shock was wearing off, and the guards were beginning to fight back in earnest. He aimed a kick at the man’s stomach, sending him stumbling backwards, guard wide open. A quick, precise swing was all it took to slice his throat.
The demon turned to assess the rest of the battle. Hendrick’s group had pulled back closer to the town hall, using the walls of the building to protect their backs while they focused on fending off the ambush in a line formation. A few arrows flew out of the neighboring alleyways from the second group, but the current angle made it difficult to hit any of their targets. Despite their group’s initial advantage, the difference in combat experience was beginning to show.
Regis danced around another swing and activated [Thaumaturgy], focusing his attention on one of the guards near the center of the formation. A small flame burst to life on the collar of his uniform. A second use of the ability was enough for the flame to reach the skin of his neck. The man yelped and hurried to put it out. In the process, he knocked into one of the guards beside him, breaking the formation.
Regis swept his blade in a wide arc, forcing more guards to dodge and break position. The other villagers seemed to realize what he was doing as they quickly followed suit, furiously attacking until they’d managed to separate the guards from each other.
Pounding footsteps sounded from behind. Regis caught a flash of silver hair before a dull thud rang throughout the street and one of the guards released a piercing scream. Hal’s group had arrived.
Regis cut down another guard nearby, then spun around in time to block a second. That one he took down with two swings, knocking the human unconscious. Lora, he could tell, was trying not to kill anyone, and several other villagers appeared similarly hesitant. He would leave a few people alive but unconscious for Lora’s group to handle later; killing everyone he encountered might draw a bit too much attention.
[You have gained experience!]
Regis slipped through the crowd of shifting bodies and swinging blades, searching for Hendrick. By now the villagers had regained control of the battle. The tides were in their favor; they would win soon, provided they defeated Hendrick.
He quickly spotted the man across the road, fending off three villagers at once with wide sweeps of his spear. His eyes were hard, his movements steady and sure. He didn’t seem at all discouraged by his comrades’ losses, holding strong against the ambush. Another villager lay bloodied on the ground nearby, and the current group didn’t seem to be faring much better. Regis blocked a nearby guard’s blow and cut her down as he made his way towards Hendrick.
[You have gained experience!]
[You have leveled up! 15 —> 16]
[The [Demonic Possession] ability has leveled up! 1 —> 2]
[[Demonic Possession] is now off cooldown]
[You have gained the [Rot] ability]
[Strength +3, Agility +4, Constitution +2, Mana +4, Will +5]
A flurry of notifications flew past Regis’s vision, but he kept his attention on the battle at hand, dodging another strike. Based on the name, he already had an idea of what the [Rot] ability was.
Across the street, Lora released a furious yell. Regis glanced over, following the woman’s gaze to the other end of the road. There, a new group of villagers had arrived, shining weapons in hand. In front of them stood Ryker. He’d found a new spear, and his hand had been bandaged and likely healed with some sort of System ability. He pointed his weapon at the battling groups.
“Charge!”
With loud yells and whoops, the new arrivals raced forward to join the fray. A number of villagers and guards alike cursed, taken off guard by the appearance of the new group. One of Ryker’s people ran at Regis, axe raised. He grabbed one of the guards nearby and shoved him at the man, knocking both of them off balance.
An arrow whizzed past him, embedding itself into one of Hendrick’s men. He saw Lora cut down her current opponent and run towards Ryker, weapon raised in fury. Though their group had taken them by surprise, this was not necessarily a bad thing, the demon thought. The villagers had managed to recollect themselves, and now they would be able to wipe out both issues at once. If he’d been smarter, Ryker would’ve waited for one of them to win, then attacked them while they were weary. Regis turned away. The circumstances had shifted, but his own target remained the same.
The demon finally reached the area Hendrick was in. The three villagers he’d seen earlier now lay sprawled on the road, blood seeping into the ground around them. Hendrick yanked his spear out of the nearest one and turned to eye the ongoing battle with disgust. Dark eyes landed on Regis as he approached.
“Another one?” he scoffed. He took a step back and shifted into a proper fighting stance. Stray rocks crunched beneath his feet. He seemed quite experienced, Regis noted. He raised his own sword in response.
In one smooth motion, Hendrick lunged and thrust his spear forward. Regis dodged to the side and quickly closed the space between them, aiming a swing at the man’s neck. He jumped back, but not before the very tip of the sword nicked his skin, leaving a thin line of red where it had touched. Hendrick’s eyes narrowed.
He surged forward with a burst of speed. He was good, Regis thought, constantly using the length of his weapon to his advantage to keep the demon from getting close. He was clearly well trained, more so than he would’ve expected for someone in a place so remote. It was easy to see how he’d managed to take control of Canedge initially.
Regis, however, had quite a bit of experience sparring spear users.
He twisted past an incoming blow and raised his sword, locking the blade against the spear’s shaft. He pushed the weapon back as he ran towards the human. Sparks rose from the metal, and Hendrick’s eyes widened. He cursed and clumsily dodged Regis’s next swing, retaliating with a punch that the demon easily ducked under. Now facing the human’s wide-open torso, he reached out a hand and activated [Rot].
Curling wisps of black smoke bloomed out from the tips of his fingers. Hendrick’s armor blackened and began to crumble and disintegrate. The man stumbled back. In that brief instant of distraction, Regis lashed out with his blade and sliced the man’s throat.
[You have gained experience!]
Hendrick collapsed backwards onto the street, a cloud of dust rising around him from the impact. Regis stared down at the human’s dead body. The area affected by [Rot] was fairly small, he noted, and the smoke had already dissipated. A few additional cracks bloomed outwards from the damaged section. The ability was exactly what he thought it was, then. The demon was almost a bit disappointed. He’d known the System would draw from his past powers, but he’d been looking forward to something new.
Regis bent down and flicked the rotted area until it crumbled away entirely, the disintegrated pieces mixing into the dirt. Like this, it would simply appear that the man’s armor had been cracked. Regis straightened.
Around him, the sounds of battle were beginning to fade. A quick sweep of the area revealed several more bodies on the ground, some dead, some wounded, and some merely unconscious. An arrow flew past, hitting one of the few members of Ryker’s group remaining. He could see Hal across the street pulling his axe out of a downed enemy, several fallen foes sprawled around him. Lora’s group had fought well. Victory was near.
Clashing metal rang out from the front of the town hall. There, Lora and Ryker traded blows, weapons moving in a furious rhythm. Both of them were panting, faces covered in sweat and grime. One of Ryker’s swings nicked Lora’s shoulder, but she gritted her teeth and battled on, knocking his spear aside and aiming a blow of her own at his torso.
Regis studied them for a moment, tracing their movements with his eyes. Ryker did seem stronger on a physical level, likely due to the level disparity, but Lora was clearly a more skilled fighter. He narrowed his eyes. More than once, Ryker would accidentally leave an opening and Lora would hesitate. Something was preventing her from dealing the final blow, and in her distraction, the man was beginning to gain the upperhand.
The demon stepped around the fallen bodies towards the fight. Most of the villagers were finishing their own battles, and he was able to reach the town hall just as a hard punch from Ryker sent Lora flying into the building wall. She groaned and attempted to stand back up. Regis bent down to help her.
“Thank you,” she managed to gasp out. Regis nodded, eyes briefly flitting over to Ryker. He could kill him easily—he was a much weaker fighter than Hendrick. At the same time, he could feel the watchful gazes of the villagers nearby. Lora needed to be the one to deal the final blow in order to cement her status as their future leader, but her own hesitation was impeding her. It seemed a bit of intervention was necessary.
Just before Regis let go, he activated [Amplify Vice] and selected wrath. Lora’s eyes widened. Her fingers tightened around her sword as the ability took hold. Without another glance at the demon, she released a cry of fury and charged forward.
Ryker barely brought his spear up in time to block her swing. Lora didn’t stop, reeling her arm back and aiming another attack at his exposed side. She pushed him back with relentless pressure, and Ryker was clearly struggling to keep up, taken off guard by the sudden animosity. With a sweep of her leg, Lora knocked the man to the ground. He landed on his back with a hard thump. When he looked up, Lora had stepped forward, eyes still flashing with anger.
She stabbed the sword down into his chest. Just like that, it was over.
Ryker fell limp, and all at once, the fury seemed to leave Lora in a rush. Her eyes widened. She stumbled back, staring in horror at the man’s unmoving form. Her hands shook a little as realization settled in. Regis stepped forward and tapped her shoulder.
“It’s done,” he said calmly. “You’ve taken back the village.”
He spoke the latter words loud enough to be heard by the other survivors in the group. Someone cheered, pumping their fist into the air, and it set off a wave of hollers and shouts. A few villagers sobbed and hugged each other in relief. Others laughed and whooped.
Slowly, the shock in Lora’s eyes faded. She swallowed, took one more look at Ryker’s dead body, then turned away to face the villagers. She raised her bloody sword to the sky, and only Regis was close enough to see how it shook slightly even as she yelled out in a strong, ringing voice.
“Victory is ours!”
The general store was bursting with life. Without the fear of Hendrick or Ryker looming over them, the villagers now freely utilized both floors of the building. They’d shoved tables together to form one long area covered in a wide spread of food. The windows were thrown open, welcoming in the warm hues of the setting sun, and they’d opened several barrels of ale. Now the people of Canedge clinked together full glasses with cheers. Regis sat at the main table watching the festivities with amusement. His own glass sat in front of him, untouched.
The sound of screeching wood reached his ears as someone drew a chair beside him. “Not gonna drink that?” Hal asked, pointing to his cup. In response, Regis pushed the glass over to the angel, who happily took it and chugged it down. Humans had limits when it came to alcohol, and seeing as he did not yet know how Cyrus would fare, he’d rather not risk reducing his own mental capacities. Drinking did not have much appeal to him to begin with.
He glanced out the window. It would be dark soon, and he suspected the festivities would last long into the night. Their purpose here was done. It was time to leave.
Regis rose from his seat and navigated through the crowd towards Lora. A number of villagers cheered as he passed, a few attempting to shake his hand. He held them off with a polite smile. As expected, news of his victory over Hendrick had quickly spread.
Finally, he managed to reach where Lora sat nursing a drink of her own in the corner of the room. She was similarly swarmed, but the villagers around her parted way for the demon as he approached. He took a seat beside her.
“How are you faring?” he asked. His voice was quiet compared to the raucous cheers around them, but it was still loud enough to be heard. Lora stared at the swirling liquid in her cup, her fingers wrapped around the glass.
“Better than I thought,” she admitted. “I think it’s finally starting to feel real.”
Regis nodded. “That’s understandable. Canedge has gone through much in the past week.”
“You can say that again.” Lora paused to take a sip of her ale, then set the cup back down. “There’s still so much to do,” she murmured. “Rounding up survivors, rebuilding…” She sighed and shook her head.
“I certainly don’t envy your position,” Regis said. Lora laughed.
“Well, I won’t be doing it by myself.” She nodded at the chattering villagers, a soft smile spreading across her face. A few beats of silence passed, and she took another sip of her drink and set the cup back down.
“Ryker was my brother, you know.” Her voice sounded distant, dark blue eyes cloudy with past memories. Regis remained silent, sensing that the human simply needed someone to speak to.
“Our parents were separated, so we didn’t grow up together or anything,” Lora continued. “The times we did meet, we couldn’t stand each other.” The corners of her mouth curled in a sardonic smile. “I don’t know what came over me. We were fighting, and I was suddenly so angry, I—” She cut herself off and stared down at her lap, quiet for a moment. Finally, she looked up again. “It’s funny. I was so shocked—I still am. But mostly I just feel relieved. I keep thinking I should be sadder, but I’m not. Maybe I’m just a terrible person.”
Regis hummed in acknowledgement. “I can’t comment on the nature of your relationship with your brother, but I do not think you should feel guilty for having emotions outside of your control. We cannot help how we instinctively feel.”
“…Maybe you’re right about that.”
The two sat in silence for a few moments, simply watching the villagers talk and laugh and dance around each other. The warm evening light filtering through the windows made the space feel larger and softer.
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“Are you and your friend leaving?” Lora finally asked.
Regis nodded. “We still have quite a ways to travel,” he explained. “We plan to leave tonight.”
“I see.” Lora turned to him. “I can’t thank you enough for your help. We couldn’t have won—no, I don’t think we even would’ve considered fighting if not for you.” She smiled. “If you’re ever in the area again, or if there’s anything we can do for you, please just let us know. Canedge will always welcome you with open arms.”
The demon smiled. “Thank you.”
Regis carefully opened his bag, scanning its contents to ensure all supplies and potions were present. He could still hear the festivities continuing upstairs; the villagers did not seem intent on stopping anytime soon.
“Hey, you’re bleeding.”
The demon glanced over at Hal, following the angel’s gaze to his arm. The sleeve there had been torn during battle, and when he shifted it aside, he saw that the cut he’d received during the fight in the prison had reopened. The bandages were soaked red, the color beginning to stain the fabric of his shirt. He carefully unwound the wrappings and tossed them aside. It seemed he hadn’t been cautious enough.
Regis moved to grab some new bandages, but Hal stopped him. The angel raised a hand, and an icy blue light emitted from the center of his palm. When he held it over the wound, it traveled down to the cut and seeped into the surrounding skin. The injured flesh trembled slightly. Then, in front of their eyes, it began to warp and fold over itself until there was no trace of the wound left. The glow faded. Regis raised an eyebrow in silent question.
“System ability,” was the explanation. Hal dropped his arm, looking rather put out, and Regis couldn’t help but chuckle.
“A healing ability? You?”
“Don’t laugh.” Hal groaned and fell back onto the mattress dramatically. “Seriously, what’s that thing doing,” he complained. “Where the fuck did it pull healing from?” He waved at himself in demonstration.
“Your species, most likely. I received an ability during my last level that’s quite similar to my old demonic rot.” Regis adjusted his sleeve again and moved to continue packing their supplies. “Don’t fret. I’m sure you’ll find a way to use it to kill.”
“Aw Reg, you’ve got so much faith in me.”
The demon laughed at that. “Perhaps. But truly, healing is a very useful power to have. I would be quite happy if I were to gain an ability like it.” Despite his innate aptitude with the Ark and his knowledge of the Pulse, he’d never managed to leverage either magic source for healing purposes. The myths claimed that demons couldn’t heal as a result of their demonic rot negating the effects. That was most likely true, but it hadn’t prevented him from trying.
“Well, if we’re ever allowed to swap abilities, I’d do it in a heartbeat.” Hal kicked himself back up and grabbed his axe. “We ready to go?”
“Yes, I believe so.” Regis double checked that his bag’s ties were secure, then swung it over his shoulder. After a final sweep of the room, the two exited into the hallway and climbed the stairs.
By the time they reached the ground floor, the villagers’ festivities hadn’t lessened at all. If anything, it seemed time and alcohol had only increased their energy. Several candles and lamps had been placed around the room, casting it in a warm glow, and the people of Canedge had begun dancing. Regis carefully navigated around the crowd, keeping close to the edges of the space as he made his way towards the exit. As drunk as they were, most of the villagers didn’t notice him.
“You’re leaving now?” Lora asked as they approached the door. He nodded.
“Thank you again for your hospitality,” he said. She shook her head.
“I’m the one who should be thanking you.” She smiled and raised her glass. “Safe travels.”
With a final wave, they exited the store and shut the door behind them, immediately muffling the sounds of the festivities.
Outside, the sun had fully set. The round moon glowed above, a soft night breeze whistling through the empty streets. Regis took a moment to assess their location in relation to the White Cliffs, then stepped into the neighboring forest. There, the last few sounds of the store were entirely drowned out, instead replaced with the distant calls of birds.
“Rowdy bunch, huh?” Hal said as they navigated around the trees. “Ale was good though.”
“They have reason to be celebratory. I suspect this day will be well recorded in Canedge’s history.”
“Nice for you,” the angel said with a grin. Regis returned the smile. Before he could respond, however, a rustle sounded from behind them.
Several things happened at once.
A shadow stepped out from the bushes, moving towards them. Hal spun around and brought his axe slamming down at the figure’s head just as Regis opened his mouth to speak.
“Hal.”
With one word, the angel immediately stopped mid-swing. The blade of his axe came to a standstill a hair’s breadth away from the cowering form of Callan. The boy stumbled and fell backwards, trembling as he stared up at that gleaming blade.
Regis waved, gesturing for the angel to step back. Hal looked disgruntled, but he lowered his axe and did as instructed—though he didn’t take his eyes off the half-elf. Regis frowned.
“Callan, what are you doing here?” he asked, his voice calm and steady. Callan just shook his head, green eyes flitting between the angel and demon over and over again.
“Y—you have wings,” he stuttered out. He was looking directly at the white feathers. “He called you Hal. That means you’re really—which means you—” Those wide eyes shifted over to Regis, pupils dilated in fear.
The demon listened as the boy rambled. By the end, it seemed words escaped him entirely. All he could do was stare up at the two, frozen in place. Regis took a slow step forward. The boy yelped and attempted to scramble backwards, but he was stopped by the thick bush behind him.
“Calm down,” Regis said in a soothing voice. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“You’re the demon king!”
“You’re correct. I will not deny that.” He cocked his head. “When did you realize?” he asked, genuinely curious.
Callan swallowed. The demon could practically see the boy’s mind churning as he weighed his options. He still hadn’t stopped shaking.
“…I saw you at the square,” he finally got out. “I—I thought it was a coincidence and maybe you accidentally knocked into that guy before the riot started. But then at the fight after you helped Lora up…” his voice trailed. He coughed, desperately trying to steady himself. “I—I went to the newsroom on the way back. It said Markus died.” He swallowed. “You killed him,” he whispered, horror and realization dawning in his voice. “That’s why you wanted to know where he was. Oh Ark, I helped you kill him.”
Regis listened silently to the boy’s words. It seemed seeing Hal’s wings had been the final evidence he’d needed to prove his suspicions. This suggested the angel’s [Beyond Perception] trait stopped working upon a certain degree of conjecture, at least at its current level. That was useful knowledge for the future.
“I see,” the demon said. He smiled. “You’re really quite smart.”
Callan looked like he didn’t know how to respond to that. Regis stepped forward, and the half-elf winced and squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them again, however, he found the demon simply sitting down on the grass beside him. There was no anger or malice in his expression. He looked exactly the same as he had that day he’d stepped into the bookstore—nothing more than a friendly, amicable young man.
“What have you heard about me?” Regis said conversationally. He was aware of Hal watching the interaction closely in the corner of his eye, the angel’s axe still in hand and ready to intervene as soon as the demon gave the word.
Callan’s gaze darted about. His fingers dug tightly into the soft earth beneath them, and he shook his head in disbelief.
“You—you were a tyrant! You tried to destroy the world!”
“Is that what you were taught?”
Callan’s next words died before they could escape his mouth. His jaw clicked shut, and Regis smiled patiently.
“Do you know how strong I was at the height of my power?” A breeze blew past them, rustling the leaves and brushing against the grasses until they rippled like a shadowy ocean. “I know there are stories of my battles with the fomorians in your history books. If I had truly wished to ‘destroy the world,’ as you so put it, it would have been remarkably easy to do so. I could’ve frozen over the oceans. Rotted away every last inch of flora. Tore the earth apart. But I did not, because that was never my intention.”
Callan didn’t interrupt, so Regis continued.
“Tell me, do you know how demons are born?”
The boy’s voice was a mixture of confusion and unease. “ …the Flesh Fields.”
Regis nodded. “You’ve heard quite the stories, I imagine,” he said, chuckling a little. “The true place is likely far worse than any tale could convey. Demons at that stage are barely formed, little more than masses of flesh and instinct.” He tilted his head. “Those who make it out become full fledged demons, but the vast majority die in the Flesh Fields. Most of the demons who manage to crawl out are not there for more than a few years.”
He leaned back, resting his weight on his hands as he gazed up at the starry sky. The night air was cool against his skin.
“I was there for more than one thousand.”
Regis heard Callan suck in a breath beside him, but his gaze remained on the bright moon.
He closed his eyes. He could still remember those days vividly, every scent and sensation, every sound and sight engraved in his mind. In that quivering mass of souls, he’d fought and killed and bled out of nothing more than a deep, instinctive yearning to live. There were days when he’d wondered why he tried so hard to survive, if it might not be better to let go than continue that unending battle. He was not a person there. He was only another voice in the wailing choir.
Regis opened his eyes again. “Do you know what I thought when I finally made it out?” he asked. Callan didn’t respond, so he continued.
“I thought, ‘this world is beautiful.’” When he first breathed in the crisp air, took in the clear expanse of the sky, the shimmering grasses, the soft earth, the gentle tide—everything had snapped into focus. This was what he’d been reaching for for so long. This was why he’d survived.
The demon smiled to himself as he recalled that day. “All the suffering, all the pain was worth it just to be able to experience this,” he murmured. He turned to Callan and gestured to the forest around them. The soft moonlight beamed down from above, illuminating their surroundings. “I do not wish to destroy the world—quite the contrary. All I’ve ever wanted was to protect it.”
The half-elf opened his mouth, then closed it again. The trembling had stopped, but his shoulders remained tense. His brows furrowed.
“But…” he began uneasily, “why’d you try to take over, then?”
Regis raised an eyebrow. “Do humans not covet? Is it not natural to wish to possess that which you desire?” He nodded in the direction of Canedge. “There is so much wrong in this world, so much that threatens to destroy it. I can fix things. I will make it better.”
“...You really believe that,” Callan muttered, half to himself. He swallowed. “But what about Markus? Or, or everyone else you killed?”
The demon shook his head sadly. “Sometimes harsh actions are necessary to achieve one’s goals. I avoid violence when I can, but I’m afraid it tends to chase me.” Regis rose back to his feet and dusted off his pants. Callan watched him warily, muscles coiled and ready to spring away, but the demon simply nodded at him.
“Remember, Callan, I wasn’t the one who started the war. You’re a bright child. I’m sure you will understand one day. Until then, please take care.”
With a final nod, he turned away and continued further into the forest, leaving the dumbfounded boy sitting alone in the grasses behind them, his small figure soon vanishing behind layers of trees.
Regis heard footsteps and turned to see Hal behind him. The angel’s pale eyes were unreadable.
“You sure about leaving the kid?” he asked.
“He has potential,” the demon said simply. “If he does tell the villagers our identity, they likely will not believe it, considering their past distrust of him. Besides, if we wish to gain influence, we will eventually need to reveal our true identities. This is only the beginning. The first few seeds, if you will.”
Hal didn’t respond immediately, simply taking in the words. Finally, after a few beats of silence had passed, he grunted and shrugged his shoulders.
“If you say so,” he said. Regis smiled and turned back to the path ahead. It was already fully dark now, and they were deep enough into the forest that he did not need to worry about encountering other travelers.
“Now,” he said, “I believe it would be pertinent to find a place to rest for the night.”
It was cold. The wind had picked up, rattling branches and sending streams of leaves twisting and dancing through the dark sky. Callan could feel a chill creeping up from the ground below him, but he couldn’t bring himself to get up. He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting there since Cyrus—no, Regis—had left. Nothing felt real.
He should tell the villagers, he thought distantly. And yet, he still didn’t move. He couldn’t help but remember the demon’s words, his voice replaying in his mind. His soft smile when he’d claimed he wanted to protect the world. It had looked sincere. So sincere that he wondered how he’d ever thought any of the demon’s other expressions were real.
Demons lie, the half-elf reminded himself. Don’t make the same mistake again.
But this wasn’t the same, was it? That fae had killed his family, ravaged Canedge. Regis had saved it. He’d let him live even after he’d found out the truth.
Callan shuddered as another breeze blew past, hugging his bare arms. He didn’t know anymore. He didn’t know what to believe.
Slowly, he forced himself back to his feet. His legs were shaky, the blood rushing down the limbs all at once, and he had to grab onto a nearby tree to steady himself. He exhaled. It was late. He needed to get back to the village. Once he was there, he could think more about what to do.
Callan turned towards Canedge, but just as he was about to take a step forward, he froze.
There, leaning casually against a tall tree a few feet away, was a tall silver-haired man with bandaged white wings and an axe resting in one hand. The weapon was pointed downwards at the ground, his grip loose and hard muscles relaxed, but Callan remembered how quickly he’d swung it, how close that sharp blade had come to digging into his skull. His shoulders tensed, warning bells blaring in his mind.
“…Halcyon,” he breathed.
The angel smiled. The silver moonlight illuminated his features, highlighting them in an eerie glow. Callan had heard stories about angels, how they were supposedly so ethereal, so perfect that they didn’t look real. He understood them now, but he felt none of the awe presented in those tales as he faced the man. All he felt was danger.
“You know, Reg really likes thrills,” Halcyon drawled. Callan didn’t move or speak, terrified of doing the wrong thing. The angel continued. “You wouldn’t think it ‘cause he’s so logical all the time, but anything a little bit surprising or interesting and he’ll probably let it go just for curiosity’s sake. How’d you think the Hero survived at first?”
He raised his axe effortlessly, running a finger down the blade as he inspected it idly. “I just want to set the record straight, you know. Make sure you don’t get any ideas. You got me?” He grinned, the corners sharp. Callan swallowed. Slowly, he nodded.
“Good, good.” The angel pushed himself away from the trunk. “As long as you get it,” he said. He turned to leave.
“Wait!” Callan blurted out. Halcyon glanced back, an eyebrow raised. The half-elf swallowed, internally yelling at himself for not keeping his mouth shut, but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t stop thinking about what Regis had said. He had to know.
“Do you…do you believe the same thing? You joined the demon king to protect the world?”
The subject of the ‘traitor angel’ had long captivated historians and storytellers alike. Every angel had supported the Hero except for one, and that had long been the source of much theory and debate. Some said it was a case of corruption. Others claimed the demon king had used some sort of magic to sway him. Still others swore he was a double agent. Humans couldn’t help but be enamored with the mystery, so much so that even Avalon’s attempts to erase Halcyon from history hadn’t quelled the rumors and speculation.
Callan himself had never thought much about it. Not until he’d heard Regis talk about his goals.
Slowly, the angel turned around. His voice was low.
“You wanna know what I think?”
Callan nodded stiffly, forcing himself to remain in place as the man stepped forward until he was directly in front of him. He crouched down so that he was eye level with the half-elf, every movement slow and controlled, reminding Callan of a stalking predator.
“I think if you’re very, very lucky,” he began, voice barely louder than a breath and yet crystal clear in Callan’s ears, “maybe Regis’ll manage to turn this world into something worth saving.”
Without another word, the angel rose to his full height, easily looming over the boy. He turned around and disappeared into the thick shadows of the forest, vanishing as suddenly as he’d appeared.
It was only after his footsteps had completely faded that Callan finally dared let go of the breath he’d been holding. Another cold wind gusted past, but he barely noticed it, his mind still churning. By the time he looked up again, there was no trace of the angel anywhere. Both he and Regis were long gone.
Callan barely remembered the trip back to Canedge. His legs seemed to move of their own accord, his thoughts far away as though in a trance. He’d searched for answers, but he was left more confused than ever. He kept hearing their words in his head, remembering the way Regis had comforted him before the battle, how it had been the first time someone had shown him kindness in years.
He swallowed. Maybe he was a coward. Because no matter how much he tried to rationalize it, he realized he couldn’t bring himself to tell the villagers the truth. He didn’t know what the demon and angel were planning, where they were going, or what the future would bring. A storm was brewing with the two of them at its center, one that would likely envelop all of Elaren, and there was only one thing he knew for certain.
This was just the beginning.
Current stat sheet:
Name: Regis
Level: 16 (Tier 0)
Species: Demon
Titles: [The Once and Last Conqueror (Unique)], [Cold-Blooded (Rare)]
Major Aspect: [Locked]
Minor Aspect: [Locked]
Strength: 32
Agility: 45
Constitution: 28
Mana: 54 (+10)
Will: 62 (+25)
Species Traits: [Demonic Senses 1], [Fear 2], [Demon Skin 1]
Major Aspect Traits: [Locked]
Minor Aspect Traits: [Locked]
Abilities: [Demonic Possession 2], [Amplify Vice 1], [Thaumaturgy 2], [Silence 1], [Rot 1]
follow, a , and/or a . They help a ton with visibility. This story did manage to reach the Psychological, Action, and Adventure Rising Star sublists, which is very exciting. I doubt it'll reach the main Rising Stars page, but every bit counts!
How sincere/genuine do you think Regis and Hal are being to Callan in their respective conversations?
