Vol 2. Chapter 1
3 years later
A Moon Tower of my own in Uldaya is my oasis for chatter with my best friend, a ghost. Today’s chat? The usual. Practicing my oath to Lucifer, King of Hell.
“Dearest King of Uldaya, return to Hellfire, to save my friend, keep your conscious regardless of any consequence for embracing the devil, then when she’s alive, return to your precious Ash of Eden, it’s so simple,” I practice while sitting cross legged on the floor of my luxurious red velvet bedroom.
Everything was coloured violent red and putrid black; like my heart!
Andoll listens to me perform the speech while reclining on my bed and all my lush pillows that she can’t feel. She’s still wearing the clothes the day she died. Oversized soldier pants and oversized tunic, with sooty brown hair from when she was burning to the dirt in the war.
You sound like a poor haggler desperate for a feed, again.
Urgh, “Hi, Torrent, I don’t know if you remember me, but –”
Of course he remembers you, Chyronex, you daft demoness.
“Tor, most handsome sorcerer in the land, I need a small favour. Return to Hellfire.”
You just need to fuck him and then manipulate him into it. You know it’s the only way to crack apart a Mystifyer. Drown him in young pussy.
“I will not fuck anyone to manipulate them,” I hiss with a glint of a blatant lie in my eye.
Ha! Andoll bursts out laughing, you fuck almost every damn travelling warlock well enough!
“I like the sorcerer type, it’s my need, Andoll... you shouldn’t speak, you fuck the tavern ghosts! Anyone that will agree to spew blood afterwards.”
It’s horrendous. The entire sexual act feels like that moment before you need to vomit, but the spirit climax is worth it. Oh, but Moon Priestess, if I don’t quench my need to fuck something, I will start haunting married men. I enjoy haunting too much, I’m an addict. I need help.
“It’s okay. I’m addicted to ale... and easy, sad cocks... that need tender handling...” I scrunch up my nose, “Anything for that feeling of fullness.”
It’ll never be the same as a Mysti– cock. Never mind. I said nothing. I did not speak the M-word. I shall spend more days as a ghost. So, tavern. Shall we?
“Oh, yes, I think so,” I share a knowing look with Andoll as I jump to my feet and she floats off the bed, straight through me, sending shivers deep into my soul.
I hate that there are no demons to hunt in this city.
I sigh loudly as I turn around, “Relax. Let us drink... I may even spell some ugly tavern wenches with bigger breasts. To make them feel better. And we can gossip and laugh at everyone else.”
Andoll gives me a look that is slowly becoming fed up.
You should simply spell some cocks bigger.
I smile slowly, half-hearted. I ask a question that I don’t really want to ask, but must, to get it off my chest, “Where is Lixar nowadays? Do you know, Andoll?”
Working with Torrent, did you not hear the news of his ascension to second in command last month? He rivals Z –his cousin’s position along side R-... well, you know.
I pause as I slip on some sandals, simply because it was unwise to wear bare feet into a tavern that would eventually be littered in shattered glass.
With the indirect mention of Zarcar on Andoll’s blue lips, I feel a chill in my spine... or maybe it’s in the air. Or maybe it’s just my mind.
I look at Andoll once more, she seems weary and tired of everything.
She’s lost most of her passionate rage over the years.
“How long...” I gulp, “How long has it been, exactly?” I ask, flat and dry.
One year since the date he should have come back, that’s three years. Since... Swendula.
“Well. It’s a moot point. I’m going to fuck at least three men tonight,” I blurt, “All in the name of Lucifer.”
You like that meanie now?
“Heavens, no... but I have a better chance with the devil then I ever will with a Mystifyer. Maybe fucking the King of Hemon will grant me a favour to resurrect you?” I joke, but Andoll looks worried.
I’d rather die than have you be put through such hell, Chyronex.
“It was a joke.”
I don’t care. Be careful what you wish for. I’m a ghost, I know strange things. If you will something hard enough... you may just manifest your worst nightmare. Let’s go.
I ignore her warning, “To fuck a hundred men!” I call out loud, twirling in my overworn silver dress, “We’re such sluts, Andoll. Aren’t we?”
Yes. You are.
I gasp and I turn around to watch her Split Soul break through.
Her kindness warps into menace.
I had not seen this side of Andoll in a long while, but now she scowls, broadly.
“Just me, a slut? Liar,” I smirk, egging her on.
I have fucked five ghosts. You have fucked at least a new mortal every other night since last year.
“Don’t put figures in my head that don’t exist,” now I lie, “And don’t slut shame me, you... bitch...” I cringe as I let the insult slip.
Andoll hisses a breath and dissipates.
“Bitch!” I yell it out louder, hurting on the inside, but the word blurts past a loose tongue.
Sometimes I pushed our jokes too far. And I had lost most of my manners, what little amount I had, at least two years prior.
However, sometimes I felt I was only hanging on by a thread.
It was some effort, avoiding Torrent for 3 whole years.
All I had to do was seduce him. He said I was welcome to come to him at any time for assistance.
But to follow through with Lucifer’s deal... would mean... seducing... Zarcar’s brother.
I could not do it.
I had to, to save Andoll.
But I could not follow through.
I kept telling her I would do it to save her, but I didn’t have the guts.
I was a horrible friend, turning into a horrible Draconess.
Sometimes, I didn’t even like me anymore and I used to be so confident... and far kinder.
Andoll understood my pain but mostly tolerated me nowadays... however, we were in a tight place. In between hell and the normal realm.
While everyone around me lived with friends and family, without a worry in the world in Uldaya... as for me... without my Venatores... well...
Luckily, ale and men seemed to pass the time.
I call to Andoll repeatedly through my mind while I’m at the tavern, but she refuses to hunt men down with me.
She said, and I quote, you can bitch alone.
I’m at the bar itself, in a well off tavern that I’ve picked because it’s closer on the outskirts of the Uldaya palace, which sat high on raised ground, overlooking the city and barricaded in with huge thousand foot walls.
The bar has many new folk tonight. Some burly travellers who were merchants of their trade.
I notice many eyes on me, but one group holds my attention.
At this point, I may or may not care how dangerous men can be.
I could shift, after all, into a Dragon.
A Draconess had her advantages.
There was just one problem.
I could not shift, or use magic, when I was heavily intoxicated.
And right now, I could feel my connections to magic, dissipating, kind of like Andoll abandoning me for this nightly adventure.
“Oh, hello, handsome souls,” I lie straight to their faces as I take a seat on one burly lap.
The men speak loudly to one another, mostly ignoring me, but also laughing about some crude jokes I’ve heard about a thousand times by now. The problem is, they keep screaming over the music and noise of the other travellers. Really, really loudly.
At some point, while leaning into a shoulder, with a hand squeezing my ass too rough, I lose my temper.
“Stop screaming at one another right in my face –!” I yell it in someone’s ear.
And then? Retaliation. A hand smacks into my head.
I don’t know where from.
But I fall to the tavern floor, my head hits a felled cup – and I dive straight into the spirit plane.
I am unconscious, but I am lucid.
I’ve been hit. Damn it.
Andoll, I drawl, sheepishly and still too drunk, Andoll, please, help. I need you to kill some bad, bad men for me.
I can’t see her and even my vision in this state, feels misplaced.
Everything is a blur as I float outside my body. I watch, sickly amused at how stupid I am for getting into this situation. My ankles, feel dragged in my lucid state as I also watch my form getting pulled through the tavern. I’m picked up, hauled over a shoulder, and I’m taken to a stable out back.
It’s about as far as we get before a bucket of water splashes me awake and I come back to the land of the living.
My back is on scratchy, itchy hay. My limbs kick out as some man finishes undressing and launches at me with a happy sneer.
But, thankfully, he doesn’t get to touch me.
I watch as some shadowed figure jumps over a stable wall and grabs the merchant’s shoulder, jerking him away from me. I try to focus my gaze while fixing my crumpled dress, but I can only make out the size of this saviour... the movements... the speed... the ferociousness... the protectiveness.
Oh dearest Moon, please... did you answer my wishes?
I watch as the almost-rapist is slaughtered through with a sword.
Blood squirts out, guts spill and a last gurgle leaves the merchant’s mouth.
This saviour of mine, it had to be him. That speed and strength. Everything about what I was witnessing right now was perfect.
I remembered it all like yesterday!
I’m blinking through tears, holding up my hands, desperately, “Zar! Zarcar!”
The figure stands tall. The hood is pulled back and I take in familiar features that make me almost burst out into tears of relief.
Until the hood drops completely... and I see the stark difference.
I drop my arms.
He looks furious.
“Is this what the young Draconess has been doing for years whilst hiding from the world in her tower?” Torrent snaps, genuinely angry, but I just smile at my luck... it was so bad... it was so, so bad... ”Get up now!" The King of Uldaya snarls, consumed with fury at my state.
Selfishly, I think if I just close my eyes, I can pretend it’s Zar.
I turn slowly onto my side, into the hay. I don’t even have the energy to cry. I just want to die. I’m so drunk and everything hurts. My head, my guts, my heart.
“I said get up!” Torrent roars.
This time, the demand is too close to my sensitive ear drums.
I jerk back from the sound of it, it was so forceful and full of pure authority. My head smacks into an iron hook poking from the stable wall by accident.
I knock myself out.
My last thought is the same. Damn this city... and everyone in it.