She felt her heart pounding like a drum. Pulsing like the writhing horde of darkspawn that squirmed in the rocky passage below. Miira could feel the stench that rose up like a repulsive wave, infecting the air even where she stood. A few meters up, perched on a natural outcrop Miira trembled, she could feel her nerve wavering. Her ill fitting, steel-plate armour weighed her slight frame down, slowly and relentlessly it seemed to be dragging her into the ground. The darkness that appeared to emanate from the horde crept upward, the taint creeping ever closer to Miira's hiding place. There was no escape from the sound of the putrid, rattling breath, seeping out and contaminating the long-forgotten air of the Deep Roads. Miira's hand convulsively gripped the hilt of her family's blade.
Stop it, she chided herself as unwelcome, salty tears carved rivers through the layers of grime on her cheeks, just accept your fate as Mother and Father did theirs. Reclaim your family's honour.
With that Miira steeled herself. Her purpose clear. She took one step back, preparing to launch herself upon the writhing black heart of the horde. Suddenly, she was thrown backwards. An unseen force propelled her into the archaic rock wall, her helmeted head ricocheted forward from the impact and she stumbled wildly. Her mind reeled and her vision throbbed until she gave in to the black pool of unconsciousness that groped for control.
A soft, balmy breeze caressed her face and Miira's eyelids fluttered open. The sky was a mild pinky-blue and cushioned with gold-gilded clouds. The grass on which she lay was softer than even her pillow at home, unnaturally soft. Miira scanned the sky above and a wicked, black form hanging ominous yet motionless in the sky made it abundantly clear that she was no longer in the Deep Roads.
"The Fade," a tall figure materialised as if from the air itself. It appeared to be humanoid, long horns protruded from its skull, its fingers bore talon-like nails and its lean frame was swathed in black cloth and dragonbone armour.
Miira started, her hand reaching instantly for her currently empty scabbard, "Who are you?" She demanded her voice quavered, despite the fact that the creature had made it quite clear exactly what it was.
"And why does it matter to you? You're in my domain, mortal, these are my rules," the creature grinned wickedly, its abnormally long canines flashed in the rapidly fading light, "You may call me Broduil, Child of the Maker".
"Demon!" Miira gasped, her muscles froze up in terror.
"But you already knew that," the demon's golden eyes flared.
"You – y – you're a Pride Demon… I want nothing to do with this!" Miira's voice rose in panic, "Leave me be, I am no mage, I have nothing to give you!"
The demon chuckled, its laughter echoed across the blackening plane, "I have watched you, mortal. Through the Veil of my eternal slumber, I remain vigilant. And you, dear mortal, do, in fact, have something to give".
Miira whimpered, "By the Maker, no… not like this…"
"Fear not," the demon's grin widened, " I present thee with a choice."
Sheer terror allowed her no tears as she gulped down a dry sob.
"You may choose to perish by my hand or live on. With either choice, I possess your mortal flesh as my own. Choose quickly, my patience wavers".
Miira could hardly believe her own ears. Death or eternal imprisonment within her own body awaited her. Despite the horrific tales of abominations, despite everything she had been taught of demons and their ilk, the steady drum of life beat within her and fed her overwhelming will to survive.
Miira could barely even recognise her own voice, filled with cold calculation as she spoke, "I choose life".
"So be it".
