A/N-1: this story, Demon Found, is a more complex companion tale to Angel Lost. It exists in the same world, merely a different side to the same coin. You don't have to have read the other story to understand this one. For Russia, I use the name Arkadi.
See the second A/N for more info, it is at the end of this chapter.
Enjoy.
-Demon Found-
"Uphold your promise." Cold claws scrambled over a surface even more bitter than they. "Don't take me for a fool!"
Skidding, sharp pitches tainted the otherwise silent pace. "I will not be overlooked. My side of the deal is to be upheld."
Murmurs like wind skipping across rock resounded in the bleak cavern. Snarling overtook this ancient voice. "I know what I did then was immature, stop pestering me so with my own actions! I know them better than you, and if it is not clear, they haunt me like a dark spirit. Now do as I say, and fulfill my desire, for the past is no excuse!"
A sudden movement scattered pebble and loose ice, a body pressed flush against a wall, fleeing. Terror flooded the air, but it soon died away. "Please! I have waited for so long, tormented by my self entrapment. All you know is freedom. You interpret others' pain as though they are birds in cages- you do not understand. I have completed the task given to me, and I have satisfied the demands. Give me the materials I need, and I will show you my true ability. I will carve wood, mold the shape, and produce an instrument fit for the gods. The melody that will come from my craft will bring men to their knees, weeping, if only you will give me the chance..."
A deep still consumed the dimly lit space, eating away at sanity and reality.
"...At the very least, give me your words, so I will know when the time has come."
A small laugh shattered the peace, creating a genuine melody in the air. Indifferent, but true, it continued.
"Your vengeance refuses to die. It is blind, but clever. Very well, Ukiuk. I will conduct your composition. Listen close. You wouldn't want to miss it..."
Wind will die, and snow will bleed.
Righteous blood tainted, ancient wrongs brought to life.
From the Royal womb, a bastard child will be birthed.
Fall will a kingdom's greatest heir; terror shall reign in his stead.
From the darkness shall come beauty, an artist's greatest work yet seen.
Scorching sands will spite bitter breath, and a blasphemous angel will rise.
Hell will crack through the ice as warriors clash.
Two will gnash teeth and shatter bones... Their honor at stake, it is only a matter of time.
But a fatal blow from a killer unknown will bring about a sudden end.
Revenge shall be had by all who hunger for her sweet taste.
All promises will have been fulfilled by the time that life lays silent.
All, except for one.
But by then, my deed is done.
...
...
...
Rhythms stroked the air, lulling it with syncopated beats. Soft eyes fluttered at the delicate noise, snapping open as the notes grew sharp, devastating, yet ever so gentle. It was sultry, gorgeous. The piece whirled around him, telling a story so fraught with emotion, that he could almost hear a voice rather than an instrument.
The chilling song died away like embers on a cold night. Exhaustion racked his body, the melody had stolen away his energy. The soloist bowed deeply, head dipped in the utmost respect.
"Rise." Arkadi uttered the words with a hoarse voice, but quickly cleared his throat of the annoyance. "... Excellent. You may leave now." Nodding, the musician walked curtly out of the small concert hall, violin tucked securely under her arm. Though her face gave nothing away, Arkadi could sense the thrill she felt, through the music, and in performing for him, the Prince.
Wiping at his brow, a soft sigh escaped Arkadi. He blinked sleep from his eyes, and stood, exiting the hall as well. The music still trilled through his mind, as he headed off to his new destination.
...
Standing before the door to what felt like an alternate dimension, Arkadi took one last glance around him, observing the way the light bounced across the decadent features of his home. The knob turned, and the door was open, soft steps entered the far darker room.
A bed, covered in fine sheets, held an old, weak body. Wheezes could be heard, small and frail. "Father?"
An inhale was made, deeper, a bit stronger, as the old king raised his head to look at his son. "My boy... You have come to visit me again, as I requested. Light some candles, I can't stand living like some vermin in the shadows." His voice was whispery, as though he had a hard time speaking at all.
Nodding, Arkadi stepped over to a dresser, being careful not to knock over any of the fine things in the room. He hummed the tune from earlier, struggling to reach some of the higher notes, but trying anyway.
Picking up a match box, he struck one against the side, producing a small flame. The young man went from sconce to sconce, lighting each, until the room was bathed in gossamer light.
"Ah, very good... Now come here, I didn't arrange this meeting to sit in silence." The old King tried to sit up, a wince creasing his face as he struggled. Arkadi rushed over, frowning as he saw his father's suffering. He helped the older man prop up, against luxuriously soft pillows.
Pulling up a chair, he sat across from his father, the small frown lingering on his face as the song faded off of his tongue.
"You've been indulging in the music again, eh?" A tiny laugh rolled through the bed-bound man as he glanced over at his only son. "And you didn't invite me? I should have your head!"
Arkadi scoffed, smile widening. The king may have been old, sick, and all else, but he still had his humor, and endearment for his beloved son. "You couldn't kill me if you tried, old man."
Shaking his head, the king replied, "You're young and cocky. Spite me again and you'll see that this man may be old, but he is not out." A devastating, wet cough shuddered out of weak lungs, startling the light emotions. "Ahem... As I have said, I called this engagement for a reason. My-"
Loud howling cut off the king, the window near him having slammed open as wind shoved roughly through. Several candles went out with a hiss. Arkadi jumped, but quickly regained his composure.
Arkadi's lips bent, annoyance sparking in his eyes. With a swift pace, he closed the window firmly, but did not bother to relight the candles, as light was still abundant from the other candles.
"You should keep your windows locked." He muttered, hardly loud enough for the King to hear. Sitting back down, Arkadi motioned for his father to continue.
"Before I was so rudely interrupted by the disastrous weather outside," the king grinned, and his son cocked a brow. "I was saying that... You and I both know that I will not be getting better." Arkadi made to interrupt, but the king silenced him with a daring glance. "Don't argue with me, Arkadi. You are my heir, and I must consult with you several things, before I go crazy from this condition I'm in."
Arkadi looked away, concern lining the soft features of his face. "You are not dying." He said, going against specific instructions.
"Arkadi. I am old, and I am tired. I do not want to rule anymore. If I ever hope to get better, I must pass on my crown to you. Besides that, I want to see my boy rule." A proud smile creased worn lips.
"Father... I am too young to rule, don't you understand? I don't..." Arkadi gingerly bit his lip, pushing dull silver locks of hair from his eyes.
A rough sigh crept through the room. "You don't want to rule, hmm? We have had this discussion many times, who will rule if not you? Surely not some hooligan off the streets? Arkadi, you are more than fit to rule, you are just scared. Please, my beloved son, it is your destiny to reign over this territory. Fulfill my final wish, and be the greatest king this land has ever known. Let me see you become great." The elder king outstretched a hand. It was rough, etched with years of living.
Deep violet orbs stared at the old man, sadness tainting the gaze. His father had always been jubilant, a dreamer almost. He was a strong leader, one who ruled by way of peace, but not without force. The kingdom had prospered beneath him, but as his death drew near, it was clear that tides were changing. Rumors of extremists, plague, and even harsher weather to come floated around the kingdom, stirring up trouble here and there. They were not without foundation, which was a chilling notion. Still, he could not look at his father and not see the genuine faith in him. The king believed in his son, perhaps more than anything, now.
Arkadi shut his eyes, fighting a useless battle. There was no way to get around this, not that he would betray his father anyway. His father was all that he had, in terms of family... In terms of anyone. It was the notion that, by taking the throne, Arkadi would lose the last person who truly cared for him, that sent tremors through his body.
Standing, Arkadi reached out and took his father's smaller hand, shaking it firmly. "I promise, I'll do all that I can to fulfill your wish. I... I will become king in your stead." The words were difficult to say, but the joyous smile on the king's face brought momentary peace.
"You don't know how much good that does for my heart." The king rested, laying his head back as he took deep, calming breaths. Arkadi nodded, forcing a smile on his face. Backing up a few paces, the young man planned to turn and leave his father to rest.
The air of peace was shattered like glass thrown against the wall, as Akardi's head was suddenly ripped backwards, hair entangled in a multitude of sharp fingers. A cool blade was rested against his throat, starving for the life that flowed beneath. It all happened within a moment, and by the time the victim had a chance to respond, all he could do was whimper tragically, his own hand floundering in some vain attempt to save himself. The king jerked upwards, crying out both in surprise and pain as his muscles shrieked at the sudden movement. The sick man stuttered, trying to find the words, trying to understand exactly what was going on. A vicious cough tore through his chest, and the king heaved his lungs to replace lost air.
The hooded assailant had come from what had seemed like nowhere, there was nothing to indicate that this to-be assassin was anywhere near them.
"Do you know of the Prophecy, dear King?" The hooded figure spoke, voice feminine. One did not need to see any features of this woman to know that a smirk lurked beneath the red hood. "For it has just been fulfilled."
With those words, the blade was ripped violently through Arkadi's throat, a spray of blood painting an image of disgusting tragedy across the room.
Arkadi fell to the floor, knife clattering to the ground near him. More blood surged from his fatal wound, staining his clothes and his skin. He felt entirely numb, almost as if his body had lost all substance. An eerie sensation of absence huddled in the back of his mind, like some sort of ghoul. His vision did not fade, however, nothing blanked out to white. In fact, he was fully aware of the going ons around him, though the floor offered little to view.
His father choked, nearly falling from his bed as devastation slammed into him. Of course he had heard of the prophecy. It had been his biggest fear, largest motivator, for some time.
The killer laughed, a deep chuckled that reverberated unnaturally. "Long live the king." The words rushed through the air, ironic and horrible.
The king felt a rage pulse through him, his weak body struggled terribly so to move, to do something, to-
The assassin shot forwards, nabbing the king by the collar. Pulling him close, the hooded figure said nothing, but tugged backwards, releasing the king. He fell without grace, smacking against the floor with a dull crack.
Stepping away without remorse, the marauder bent over Arkadi, studying him for but a moment. Then, without hesitation, she snatched her victim up, throwing Arkadi over a shoulder like some tiresome sack. Blood dribbled like a small river, blending in with the red of the cloak, before falling to the floor haphazardly.
From the room, the pair made their way. A red trail marked their path, and it was not long before they were confronted. No words were exchanged, as a guard rivaling even Arkadi in size stormed towards the assassin, weapon at the ready. Scoffing, a gloved hand shot out, stopping the guard in his tracks through his own weapon. Traveling along the metal and wood, crystals of solid ice. The guard had little time to react, as the small bits of frost contacted his skin. From there, he had no chance. As soon as the intense ice reached his skin, his entire blood system froze all at once. This caused massive expansion within his body, and his skin bulged, giving way. From under thin armor, bits of viscera among other things shoved their way out. The long dead man tumbled to the floor, landing with a solid thud, that only allowed more of his icy body to escape. With her free hand, the guard's weapon was snatched up. With the axe, the marauder swung down, severing the guard's head from his body. The disembodied head was quickly impaled, and brought along.
From there, the unknown figure left without challenge. Swift feet carried the small group far beyond the castle boundaries. Once they had reached a suitable distance, Arkadi was dropped to the snow, body sinking down despite his carrier's feet remaining on the top most layer without issue. The long handle of the axe was plunged deep into the snow, down into frozen earth. It was merely another cog in the massive machine that had been created so long ago, but only set into motion now.
Retrieving something from under their cloak, the killer turned back to Arkadi. A leather collar, of sorts, was fastened around his torn throat; it was pulled up to hug his chin. A thick tether sprung from the oddly well fitting piece, it use clear. Wrapping a firm hand around the end of the tether, the figure marched on, dragging her quarry behind her without so much as a glance backwards. She knew where she was going, for a path unseen guided her feet. Through thick forest they went, and into the deep, bitter night they continued. Howls and glowing eyes haunted their way, as starving creatures gazed upon them with greedy eyes. None dared to challenge them, however. No beasts were foolish enough to wish upon themselves death.
A whole week passed, made of none stop travel, until the desired destination was reached. It was an obscure cave, carved into the solid ice side of a dormant glacier hill.
Upon entering, Arkadi was brought in, deep into the cave. Surprisingly, light from unknown sources illuminated the space, but only just enough to see. Turning so that her back faced Arkadi, the cloaked woman spoke once more. "You are a brilliant actor." She commented, twirling her wrist in the air as if to prove something more. "But I am afraid the theater has closed for good, so there is no longer any need to stay in character." Walking away, she left the cave, left what she had worked so hard to get. She planned on returning, but when, she did not know.
Arkadi watched his killer leave. He could hardly form a thought in his head, everything was still so far from his reach, his body so cold. Clinging onto distant recollections, he desperately tried piece together what had gone so wrong. Half the journey he had endured, he truly believed life had left his body. But no, it returned to him, harsh and unforgiving, as it did now. Only, this time, it all throbbed. A heat returned to his limbs, feeling like blisters sprouting all across his body. Crying out, Arkadi forced his body to move, killing off the pins and needles that nipped his skin. He ran a hand across his throat, taken aback by the utter lack of deep gouges, the wound that had killed him did not exist. What did exist, however, were raw ruts, cut by the leather bound around his neck. A hiss escaped his mouth as the young man ran a hand right across a few of them, infuriating the wounds.
Arkadi managed to sit up, but only just. He had no choice but to lean against the wall of the cave, who's cold sank into his skin and weighed him down only further. Deep breaths coursed through Arkadi's young body, which was barely readjusting to functioning once more. Reaching a shaking hand to his belt, Arkadi could not tell if he was relieved, or horrified to find a solid object holstered at his side. A flintlock pistol, it had been a gift from his father. Only a few shots rested within the gun, meaning that if they were used at all, they would have to be used well.
Arkadi removed his hand from the weapon, wondering why he hadn't died from hypothermia yet. Only then did it occur to him that he should've died from the knife that ran through his jugular, causing a bitter sob to cut his thoughts short.
Hair sticky from blood that didn't even exist, Arkadi began to fight a long fight. He could not stop the thoughts that flooded his mind, but he relentlessly combatted them, twisting this way and that to escape his terror in the frigid cave that seemed to swallow all the sound and light that entered. Distantly, Arkadi prayed that it did not swallow him up the same.
...
...
Milky light sweetly coated the visible surroundings, shooing away the lurking shadows. Thoughts felt shallow, light, almost like freshly plucked cotton. Slumped and slanted, Arkadi was somewhere between sleep and consciousness. The previous hours he had lost count of. Time could not be told in this odd environment, isolated and constant as it was. During that time, the stolen Prince was still unable to quite grasp his situation. Arkadi had struggled with himself, tearing and pulling at the tight noose around his neck, or trying to shamble off to some distant thought. He had been in a perpetual, but oddly indirect, panic.
All his actions had earned him was a throbbing irritation, and disastrous exhaustion. The young man knew how deadly these lands were, especially now that winter had set in. Somehow, these ideas shoved through his madness. Arkadi had returned himself to his original position, protecting his extremities with his core warmth. This was where he now rested, like a drunkard lost in a blizzard.
Now, as he began to return to the world, his fogged mind and cloudy vision did little to aid him in his struggle to recall. In the same way, they dulled his confusion and panic significantly, as if they led the young man on to believe he as dreaming.
Ill tempered tapping pulled itself through the air of the cave, announcing that something approached. Arkadi hardly reacted, merely lifting his head up to see the intruder.
From around a bend in the cave, a cryptic beast continued its forward pace. Arkadi spent a few moments processing the image given by his deep eyes, trying to figure out what was coming ever closer. It had the body of a magnificent snow leopard, broad and thick furred. It's front paws were unnaturally wide, looking more feathery than furry. In fact, they were not paws at all. With matching sets of massive talons, feet akin to a snowy owl's replaced the feline's paws.
Terror quickly replaced fascination as Arkadi realized all at once what he was dealing with. The vicious curved beak gleaming threateningly, and the muscular wings folded neatly upon the back of the spliced creature were all Arkadi needed to confirm his suspicions without doubt. A Lurking Cat was only a few feet away from him, dark eyes holding some retched desire. Lurking Cats were a kind of griffon, perhaps the most merciless of all. An encounter with one of these beasts nearly guaranteed death, as legend told that they only hunted those that offended spirits of the mountains.
Arkadi snapped out of whatever spell had been muddying his mind within an instant. His hand instinctually flew to the holster at his side, frantically ripping his gun free. A warning shot blasted into the frozen air, piercing the opposite wall of the cave with a shatter of ice.
Halting, the Griffon stared intensely into Arkadi's eyes, daring him to fire again. Arkadi trembled, using his legs to shove his body up into a better position all while keeping his pistol trained on the creature ahead of him. The silver encased bullets inside of the gun carried a deadly promise to mythical beasts, the griffon realized with a hiss. It did not show its fear, however. But it did speak. "Pull that trigger, boy, and see what happens." The beast challenged, lowering its head out of contempt.
Arkadi jumped, nearly firing again. No legend ever told of any Lurking Cat speaking. Peering past the barrel of his gun to the hostile griffon before him, Arkadi managed to ask, "C-Come again?"
The griffon stared at Arkadi, thoroughly puzzled. It was a serious threat to his life, and yet the boy kept all his manners and pleasantries? "Enough games," the beast snarled, shaking its head. With an odd and sudden twist, the Griffon was no more. In its place, the hooded assassin that had stolen the Prince away. Unsatisfied with how the events had played out, she growled, "Who in their right mind asks a mythical creature to repeat itself, especially when it's original statement was very clearly a threat?"
Arkadi blinked his now wide eyes at the individual before him, unable to come up with an answer. Recognition sparked in his mind, and all his mouth could form were jumbled questions. Finally, a clear sentence pushed free. "How am I alive?"
Dumbstruck by the young man before her, the shape shifter looked away. It didn't make any sense to her. Shouldn't this mortal before her, one that was hardly more than an adolescent, be terrified silent? He looked scared, sure, but not nearly to the extent expected. "I did not kill you in the first place," She explained with a sigh.
"Huh?" Arkadi tilted his head slightly, not even trying to hide his lack of understanding. The grip on the gun in his hand had relaxed, and the weapon was now pointed downwards.
Balling her fists and hanging her head, the woman replied once more. "You were never killed. I have worked far too hard and waited far too long to just off you like that. It was a powerful illusion, all of it."
Before Arkadi was able to ask more questions, the woman silenced him by ripping his body upwards, forcing him to stand. "Hush, your words aggravate my superior mind. I faked your death to steal you away from your throne, and toss your kingdom into chaos. You will remain with me. You will watch as everything your beloved father built crumbles. And then... Then I will kill you. I will place your worthless little body at the door of the castle for the ghosts to mourn. There is nothing you can do about it, so enjoy your feeble life while you can."
Arkadi felt as though the cave around him had just collapsed inwards, crushing his body to nothing. If not for the woman holding him up with her tight grip on his clothes, Arkadi would have fallen to his knees. Delicate tears stained his soft skin, as the breath in his throat hitched. All the things listed off to him described his hell, his reasonless damnation. That horrible promise, stuck right in his face as though some child were bragging about a candy. Even more so, the hideous proposition that he was powerless to shape his future. They brought about a blistering rage that was so rarely tapped into. It contorted his face, ran nasty shivers through his muscles.
The gun in Arkadi's hand had purpose once more, as it was brought up with chilling ferocity. The horrible woman clenching his shirt quickly let go, baring her teeth. With the barrel of the weapon aimed at her head, she felt fear creep into her mind with eerie familiarity.
"Shoot me!" She barked, spitting her words. "Kill me, go ahead. You'll still be left out here, without a single hope in this world. You don't know where you are, and you don't have food. You'll die just the same, you foolish boy!"
Once again, Arkadi's heart sank into despair. He opened his mouth to retort, but no words would leave him. He truly had no way to prevent his fate. However, a new thought sprung up in his mind, one that brought with it a tinge of hope.
"So be it, then." He whispered, drawing the gun away from its original target ever so carefully.
Perplexed, the woman watched Arkadi's every movement, observing every detail.
It was too late, that she realized what he was doing.
"No, don't-!"
The barrel aligned perfectly, pushing through his silver locks of hair, Arkadi drew in one final breath, closing his soft eyes. With one simple click, and one loud crack, the entire world was shattered into a million lost little pieces.
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To be continued...
A/N-2: This story, as mentioned in the first A/N, is far more complex than Angel Lost. I plan on rewriting Angel Lost when this is finished.
My update schedule will be once or twice a week, likey on Saturday or Sunday.
Reviews, favorites, and follows are largely appreciated. Thank you~