Water dripped from the stalactites hanging from the cave's dimpled ceiling.
Rath had been to this place before.
He was certain he had once before seen the rock formations and felt the dampness, heavy in the icy air. But where he was and when he had visited escaped him, like the last lines of a nursery rhyme.
"Hello?" Rath called out, voice reverberating across the cave's walls.
The echoes eventually faded into silence. Rath strained his ears to pick up a response—though he was only half-expecting it.
Why did he think that someone would answer?
"Greetings, Lord Rath. It is so good to finally be able to speak with you."
Rath jumped at the soft voice that replied to him from the darkness. He could only see so far into the inky recesses around him. The voice sounded young, almost child-like.
"Who's there?" he questioned uncertainly.
His limited sight made him uneasy. It felt as though an attack was imminent, as though something or someone would strike out at him from the shadows at any moment. His fingernails bit into his palm. The longer it was between the reply and its silence, the more anxious he grew.
The constant dripping continued, it was the only other sound until the disembodied voice spoke once more.
"Of course, you will not recognize me. We have never yet fully made acquaintance."
Rath's eyes widened when a figure emerged from the darkness, clothed in a brilliant white cloak.
The startling white of the fabric seemed to emit a soft glow, her appearance ethereal against the gray of her surroundings. Her long hair flowed down the front of her cloak and stretched long tendrils down her back, beginning pink at the top of her head and fading darker further down to the tips. The middle of her forehead was adorned with a tiara.
Was he dreaming?
She smiled and lowered her head for a graceful bow before rising to meet Rath's perplexed gaze.
"Greetings, Lord Rath," she said, voice lilting."I am the Heaven's Star Princess."
Rath was dumbfounded. The Heaven's Star Princess? What a title. He had never heard of her, but she seemed to know him.
She stood a few feet away from him but from where he was he could see that she was quite beautiful, though it was only marred by the melancholic look in her eyes.
"Where…am I?" Rath ventured. There was something familiar about the girl, like the cave he was in. It was as though he had seen her for a brief moment, or felt her presence, but never spoke openly with her.
The princess wavered for a moment before speaking. She kept averting her eyes in a restless way.
"We are nowhere and yet we are somewhere."
Rath felt a lick of irritation flare up at the cryptic reply—what kind of vague answer is that?—and the girl recoiled as though she had been slapped.
"Please, before you become angry, let me explain…Lord Rath," she whispered, voice cracking.
Her reaction startled him. He hadn't said anything and yet she seemed to be on the verge of tears. Though his guard remained raised, he nodded at her, indicating for her to continue.
"You asked of your location." She moved her gaze from Rath to a smooth rock at her feet.
Rath watched as she bent down to pick it up, her long sleeves shielding her hands from view. She rose slowly, examining it.
"This place is not completely apart of the reality you know, yet not quite entirely a separate world unto itself."
"...I don't understand," Rath said. How could a place be real and yet not real?
She walked over towards the darkest part of the cave and tossed the rock into the black alcove. Rath waited, seeing the rock vanish, for the clattering sound to echo back at him, but it never did.
He found the princess watching him again and he met her stare with a questioning look.
"The rock made no sound because this cave's image does not stretch as far as to where it was thrown. You see, Lord Rath, this cave is the product of your subconscious. You've been here in the past, yet you do not remember this fact—is this not so? Nonetheless, you feel the familiarity of this place."
Rath wasn't expecting the sudden, pointed question directed to him. He nodded, unsure of where she was going with any of this.
"In your current state, you are not able to register having been here before. But your subconscious does."
"So where we are right now, where this is right now, is this—is this an actual place in Dusis?" Rath asked as he searched her face.
Her eyes lowered for a moment, expression pensive.
"You wouldn't be wrong to assume that. However, that is also where things get a bit difficult. You could say that we are currently in a cave here in Dusis, however, we are not there physically. Your subconscious has taken the image of the cave that it remembers and has created this projection in its place."
Rath paused and then replied, strained, "So, this is all in my head?"
Had he actually believed even for the briefest of moments that he had finally escaped Nadil's clutches? That it would have been so easy?
The princess' eyes softened, as though reading his thoughts and feeling sympathy for him. He was surprised to find that he didn't recoil at this reading, finding that it was sincere.
"Yes and no. It is hard to explain, in such a limited language, where exactly you are at this moment."
Rath looked at his hand, the hand he had clenched tightly, and saw the half-moon indentations left by his nails. That was real enough, or at least it seemed so.
Did that mean the girl was apart of his subconscious as well? He voiced the thought: "Are you 'real'?"
"Yes. You do not remember but we have met before, Lord Rath," she said. Her eyes were glassy with unshod tears.
"But is that really true? If this place isn't really apart of reality how do I know you're actually a person and not something I just made up?" he pressed, unwilling to let himself be convinced so soon.
"As I mentioned before, you subconsciously remember being here a long time ago. It was in this place that we first met, though under unfortunate circumstances, and therefore how you know me without actually knowing me. This is how I am able to visit with you, in this space in time that one could call a vision rather than dream; by using this singular connection between us."
She appeared to gather her thoughts for a moment and then continued.
"You see, I have the power to visit an individual's subconscious state, and it is under my jurisdiction as the Star Princess that I am able to do so. I needed to choose a place where our connection was the strongest, so that I could materialize properly, and thus it is why we are in this cave."
Rath grew more and more puzzled as he was fed information. Assuming that all of this was true, the young girl standing before him must be very powerful. Then, if the so-called Star Princess had such great abilities, why hadn't Lykouleon or even Nadil ever mentioned her? If she could do such things, would he not have read about her in the vast library at the Dragon Castle? The library had held some of the oldest texts in existence, some dating back to the time of the first of the Dragon Tribe members who had populated Dusis, and he recalled no mention of such a princess.
"Who are you—really, I mean? Where did you come from? And why did you wait until now to try to speak to me?" Rath questioned firmly, intent on getting something concrete from her.
The Star Princess' reply was not immediate and when she did finally speak, did not answer his question.
"You are suffering Rath. Every day I feel it, to the bones beneath my very flesh. Your agony...I can sense it miles away, always so overwhelming, always so pitiful."
She trembled visibly while speaking, her sleeves rising to unsuccessfully stop the flow of tears that began to bubble down her cheeks.
Rath worked his throat, only able to observe her seemingly involuntary display.
"Yet, it is not only you, though your cry is the most wretched out of them all. Dusis screams with the horrors that have taken residence upon her. I feel," she choked out, covering her face entirely, "the tortured thoughts, the distress of all living things that exist. Their misery is reverberated tenfold in my heart, which I fear cannot take much more."
As if punctuate this, she collapsed with her hand on her chest, her fingers pulling at the fabric of the cloak there.
Rath made as if to run over to her but she lifted up a shaking hand, stopping him, her watery eyes upon him once more.
"Please, Lord Rath, keep your distance. I apologize. Your emotions come in such a rush, it is nearly unbearable for me," she stammered.
Amazed by her resolve, he watched as she took a breath and rose, regaining her composure. There's no doubting her claim to royalty, he thought. Her regal bearing was proof enough of her being highborn.
"I must confess, I wasn't supposed to come here, or even speak with you. My people—," she began, seemed to think better of what she was going to say, and then continued, "My people have never believed in interfering with the goings-on here in Dusis, you see. Before everything, they let me try to offer my help, but once it became too dangerous they me advised against further interaction. I was forbidden to come back and contact anyone, especially you. But I couldn't sit idly by and watch, not when I could help in some small way. I feel strongly that my safety is irrelevant. If doing nothing means I must ignore the suffering of many in silence, I refuse to choose inaction."
She held his gaze, her expression earnest.
"Lord Rath. Though these things I've told you are much and I have explained so little, I sincerely hope that you will trust my words, however few and vague they are."
What choice did he have? This could all be just a dream for all he knew, or an illusion set up somehow by Nadil. Yet, he thought, while lowering his eyes to the hem of the princess' cloak, there was something about her eyes that made him willingly accept what she was telling him.
He did trust her, somehow. This was a monumental revelation. During his time at the Demon Castle, trust was something that he had long since abandoned out of necessity.
"This is your sanctuary," she then said, after a long pause, and lifted a sleeve to motion around her. "The only place where Nadil cannot reach you if he attempts to needle into your mind."
Rath replied, dubious, "You're sure?"
She closed her eyes for a moment and then opened them. The rosy depths were then filled with so much love and kindness, emotions that he hadn't seen in so long, that Rath had to look away. His chest tightened painfully.
"Dearest Rath, fated Child of Light and Darkness. You have suffered for so long with naught but strays of waning light to guide you."
Suddenly, she began to fade back into the darkness, as though the ripples of the shadows in the cave were trying to shield her from his view.
"Wait!" Rath cried out, reaching a hand towards her. No, please don't leave me alone, he thought frantically, already used to the young girl's presence. He knew he had made the grave mistake of fixating on her.
His stomach dropped when the ground suddenly disappeared beneath his feet. Descending silently into darkness, he could only catch a glimpse of the the Star Princess. A single, pearly tear rolled down her cheek and vanished into the black emptiness around him.
A voice echoed in his head as his vision slowly darkened, weariness enveloped him, and he sank further down into the fathomless depths.
"Remember these words: 'You are not alone'."
With a startled gasp, Rath awoke.
He laid quite still, panting—it felt as though he had been running for miles. His skin glistened with sweat. When he finally steadied his breath, he rose somewhat, and rested a hand on his forehead. His fingers were cool against the heat that was radiating off of his skin.
Was any of that real?
A single bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face to drip down his chin.
The "Heaven's Star Princess"; what she was wearing, the vivid color of her hair, and the cave. He could remember everything in stark detail.
You are not alone.
He stood shakily, using the bed's wooden pole for support as he lifted himself from the bed.
What did she mean by that? What did any of that mean?
He found flickering candles covering the table and bookcases, casting long shadows across the walls and floor. Night had crept up on him after he had drifted off to sleep. His stomach rumbled.
He went over to the window and pulled the curtain to the side. As bleak as Kainaldia looked while bathed in the minimal daylight, it looked desolate in darkness. Just in sight, part of the rolling cloud of the Sea of the Dead billowed about eerily.
An insistent rapping sound suddenly filled the room and Rath faced the door. Shydeman's muffled voice emanated out from behind the thick wood.
"You're taking your sweet time aren't you? Hurry up, it's set to begin any moment now."
There was no pretending to have forgotten. Tonight was the "celebration" that Nadil had told him to attend. He had dreaded it during every passing second that brought him closer to the day.
His fingers picked at the fabric of his shirt just above his shoulder. He had halfheartedly hoped that the offer would be forgotten and Nadil would see no point in wasting the energy to force him to go. Shydeman's presence behind the door had given him his answer.
The lock clicked and Shydeman's willowy form slipped into the room. Rath could tell, by the withering look he shot him, that he wasn't in a pleasant mood.
"Lord Nadil isn't to be kept waiting," Shydeman warned, echoing his sister's sentiment from a few days ago, with a purr that Rath had come to despise; the raw contemptuousness of it.
His stomach lurched when Shydeman chuckled unkindly.
"Well, aren't you hungry?" He took a step towards Rath. All the time, Rath thought to unhappily answer.
He stood his ground as Shydeman approached him. A hand coaxed his chin up but even as his face was turned forward he kept his eyes trained to the side, trying to maintain a look of indifference. He caught a whiff of the clean scent of the Demon Officer's flesh; contrary to how it seemed, some demons did in fact take baths—at least, the high-ranking ones did. Even so, there was always something else beneath it, a subtle trace scent that no amount of washing a demon did could ever get rid of.
He closed his eyes when Shydeman's thumb and forefinger gripped his chin.
"Not that I care, of course," Shydeman murmured and leaned close.
"But you are important to our cause," he spoke carefully, as though testing each word. "This is unfortunate, considering the risk we face by merely keeping you alive."
—and in agony, Rath thought, listless. Shydeman's suffocating closeness made him feel light-headed and made his knees weak.
"You know, if it were possible, I would have killed you on that day myself," he muttered, close to the curve of Rath's jaw. "For your insolence when you Dragon Knights carried Lord Nadil's head back with you like a mere trophy."
Rath felt Shydeman's other hand come up to brush his neck, barely touching the skin there with the edges of his nails.
"I would have," Shydeman whispered, as though seeking to cement the fact.
Somewhere in his head, Rath thought it would be a merciful thing to do. He surprised himself, even, with the calm way his mind seemed to regard the idea with—of how easy it would be to open the pumping arteries of dark blood beneath his skin.
But Shydeman wouldn't. Rath knew this and he knew that Shydeman knew this as well. Shydeman wasn't his sister—moved by and at the mercy of his emotions. He believed Shydeman's affirmation but also knew that Shydeman was in no position to do as he pleased. That levelheadedness was a trait that had made him a dangerous enemy to Rath.
Rath finally opened his eyes and met Shydeman's own, wordlessly passing the information along. The sneer faded from Shydeman's lips. He removed his hand and held Rath's gaze for a moment before turning away.
"Poor fool. You don't know even half of what you think you know," he said without much extrapolation.
Rath watched Shydeman walk back to the open door. He paused, hand resting on the door frame, and Rath waited.
"Be ready in twenty minutes. I'd rather not have to drag you out of here."
He left without another word, leaving Rath alone in the bedroom.
Rath's fingers came up to his neck and he found that he was shaking. Shydeman had not bothered to hide the venom in his voice. Rath knew that the moment Nadil tired of him or got whatever it was that he wanted out of him, he would be at Shydeman's mercy. And the Demon Officer had made his position on the matter of Rath's life perfectly clear.
The thought sobered Rath. And how long would that take? He had been trying to survive each day in this godforsaken place as best as he could, but what was the point if he could count the number of days leading up to his death?
Rath stared at the slightly ajar door with a look of trepidation.
There was no way he was going to try and curry favor with Nadil in order to escape Shydeman's clutches. The idea, at very the least, nauseated him. But what about honoring the Dragon Lord's plea? Was his dignity worth more than that promise?
Wanting to forget the encounter, Rath made his way over to the bathroom.
But Shydeman's scent seem to cling to him and not even the coarsest brush could scrub Shydeman's words away.
Rath had been to many parties during his residence at the Dragon Castle. The events often took several days to prepare for and all the maidservants would become quite irritable, so much so that even the immovable Thethus had the right mind to stay out of their way. When the occasion itself eventually did occur, there were few words capable of accurately describing the festivity that would take place.
Diplomatic gatherings, birthday celebrations, a Dragon Fighter's promotion; they never intended for each to be larger or more extravagant than the last. But these parties were always colorful, always warm and bright—Rath had disliked them.
He never could sit through the entirety of the event, not even through any of his birthday celebrations (he would laugh—a birthday celebration for him? A reminder of how he had been born?).
One way or another, he'd find himself wandering castle grounds, finely dressed and alert, listening to the laughter and music echo well into night. Rune often left right after he did, unless the Dragon Lord requested him, personally, to remain throughout the entire event. Rath suspected that the elf had been unused to such things, having lived in the Faerie Forest for much of his life.
This was very unlike the many parties he had attended in the past.
The lower-ranked demons, grunts and independent sympathizers alike, were feasting somewhere down in the dungeons. Crowding around the massive room, instead, were well-dressed generals and the many human bureaucrats who had willingly submitted their principalities to Nadil's Army.
Rath recognized a few who had previously allied themselves with the Dragon Castle and had visited the castle on numerous occasions. They had all been quick to give their praise and appreciation for the Dragon Lord. Whenever they happened to pass by him, they shot him dark looks from under their heavy brows.
Kaistern would always complain about his diplomatic excursions where it was necessary to meet with such people. "Silver-tongued" he recalled Kaistern had growled out disdainfully, describing them, while giving his report to a bemused Lykouleon. Still, Rath couldn't blame the majority of them.
He couldn't be bitter because most had, understandably, chosen to go down the path that would spare their kingdom's inhabitants the horrors of war.
For the night, Rath had picked out something inconspicuous to wear and had quickly blended in with the large room's stony walls. Few bothered him, or cared to. He was unapproachable to them and he welcomed it; he wasn't vying for any attention after all. He sat next to the buffet table, trying to keep it that way, and sipped on some water.
Edible food was being served, which encouraged him. There were hot soups, big grilled gariina birds graciously stuffed with green olives and with smaller lightly seasoned birds, a great variety of cakes, sandwiches, and stone vases full of gingery-scented mulled wine, kept warm by a small furnace.
The atmosphere, however, was lacking. For starters no one seemed even the tiniest bit tipsy,though the event was already well under way. The reason for this was obvious—no one trusted anyone. Nadil's intent was not to entertain, but to assert his dominance; everyone here seemed well aware of this fact. It was solemn like a funeral and there was no music. Even the members of Nadil's Army looked as though they wanted to crawl under rocks and die. Their tight-lipped expressions almost made Rath smile.
Before he could scan for any more reactions, or lack there of, his view was blocked by a dangling sandwich. He looked up to find Sabel, the corpse collecting demon, cheerfully grinning from ear to ear.
"You must be relieved that they're serving normal food here!" Sabel laughed. He pushed closer trying to, unsuccessfully, pawn the sandwich off on Rath.
Rath granted the demon a lidded look. Sabel was one of the few demons he was on amicable terms with. Having directly received Nadil's power and been given the monster fish, Garaba, by Nadil as a gift, Sable's life seemed closely tied to Nadil's. Sabel also maintained an impressive dislike for all of Nadil's officers, especially Shydeman, Shyrendora, and Fedelta; earning Rath's approval.
Rath's eyes fell to the dark bands binding Sabel's wrists and ankles. Sabel was perhaps more physically trapped in the castle than he was. Come to think of it, he didn't know very much about him or how it was that he had come to fall into the Nadil's apparent "favor". Sabel was never around all that often.
"Are we enjoying the party?" Sabel inquired, casting the sandwich aside as Rath made no move to take it from him. A couple of demons glared at Sabel's back when the offending item landed at their feet.
"You seem to be," Rath said.
Sabel, without asking, took a seat beside Rath and draped his arms over the back of the chair.
"Not really," Sabel replied morosely and examined his fingernails. He then crossed his legs and irritably bounced a foot up and down.
"I mean if you haven't noticed, this place is deader than the Sea of the Dead. And I should know, I've been around dead bodies long enough. I finally get a chance to have some fun that doesn't happen to include rotting dolls and I'm stuck here...You know, I'm actually not even sure what it is I'm supposed to be doing here."
Rath paid no mind to Sable's diatribe, though not intentionally. He had noticed some humans whispering fervently with one another, looking quite animated in their dialogue. Perhaps they were feeling like backing out of their arrangement with Nadil. Now would be too late. If they didn't want the remaining population of humans decimated, going against Nadil was out of the question.
"I've been meaning to ask; what's it like being a demon turned dragon, or wait, are you a dragon turned demon?"
Rath snapped his head around to face Sabel.
"What did you just say?"
Sabel raised his hands up in a defensive manner and gave Rath a wavering smile.
"Eh, trying to make small talk?"
"I'd rather not," Rath answered with a frown and Sabel threw up his hands in exasperation.
His "tenuous claim" to the Dragon Clan, as Nadil had put it, was something that he had long agonized over. He didn't want to talk about it, let alone talk about it with Sabel. Rath only had a few pieces to put the details of his past back together with, resulting in a malformed picture. But if the fragmented memories that haunted him were anything to go by, he wasn't sure if he wanted to know exactly who, or what, he had been—or where he had originally come from.
"Oh, damn! Not him." Rath stiffened when Sabel drew close, using him as a shield.
A heavy demon aura was approaching them, like heat bearing down from a fire pit, that made the closeness of the corpse collector uncomfortable. Its owner stopped in front of them and observed Sabel's posture with dark eyes and a raised brow.
"I would ask what you're doing, but I think I'd regret it," Fedelta announced.
"None of your business. Fedelta should stick to pushing his nose up Shydeman's backside, shouldn't he?" Sabel laughed meanly and nudged Rath. "Isn't that right Rath?"
Rath wasn't sure how to even begin to answer, so instead he remained quiet. Sabel shot him a disappointed look.
"I'm going to count to three. If you're still here by the end of it, I'm going to set you on fire and grill up your over-sized goldfish so that it can join the other dishes on the buffet table."
Sabel yelped in outrage at the threat and jumped up, looking as though he were going to strike Fedelta. He leveled a hot glare at Fedelta for a moment then pushed past him, muttering, and elbowed his way through a bunch of sour-faced demons.
Fedelta followed Sabel with an irritated scowl until he exited the large room.
"It confounds me as to how he can be so useful yet so aggressively useless at the same time."
Fedelta directed the statement to Rath who said nothing in return. Then, Fedelta smiled.
"I'm glad to see that you managed to make it. Have you tried the wine? It's simply exquisite."
Fedelta was an opportunistic demon, often choosing to lie in wait to ambush his prey and stack the cards in his favor far in advance. Rath often saw him slinking around the corridors and disdainfully addressing the demons of Nadil's Army from a perch of some kind—always lurking, always watchful. Fedelta seemed to have little confidence in anyone expect for Shydeman. In fact, Rath was quite sure that Fedelta was head-over-heels for Shydeman. Though he said he served Nadil, Rath suspected that his true loyalties lied with no one else but the Demon Officer.
The sudden appearance of Shyrendora, at that moment, had procured a noisy crowding of demons all bestowing her with lavish compliments and praises. All were hoping to gain favor with one of Nadil's high-ranking officers. Distracted, Rath watched her make a speedy escape. She didn't look at all that happy to be there.
"You know, I've been wondering this for a while now; do you miss the Dragon Clan? Or are you happy to be finally rid of all those goody-two-shoes?
Rath's jaw tightened at the offhanded query and he was careful to keep his voice level.
"I'm not in the mood, Fedelta."
Fedelta's smile grew.
"Oh dear. Well, that's disappointing. Here I was thinking I could rile you up and have a little fun."
Fedelta paused before continuing.
"Oh, this might be a good one. Now, who was that pretty maid you had there over at the Dragon Castle? 'Cernozura' was her name wasn't it? At least, that was what the other servants were noisily shrieking. I remember her very well. She tried to attack me while the other maids were fleeing. Can you believe it? Silly little thing. She didn't last very long. You of all people know how insatiable demons can be—"
Rath rose quickly, forgetting the glass in his hand which shattered when it hit the ground.
A few humans and demons stopped in what they were doing to observe the commotion.
He viciously grabbed the front of Fedelta's cloak, curling it into his fist, wanting nothing more than to beat the sneer off of Fedelta's face and reduce him to a mass of pulpy blood and broken bones.
"Ah, looks like I found the right spot to prod," Fedelta laughed.
Rath tightened his grip on the demon.
"That was a shot in dark. For all I could have known, 'Cernozura' was just one of your run-of-the-mill castle maids. Looks like she was something more to you. Was she the one who raised you? I can't imagine what that must've been like for her."
"I'll kill you," Rath whispered, low and harsh. His knuckles turned white. He tried to not think about Cernozura but the image of her in his head was maddeningly persistent.
"Go ahead then. Let's see you try," Fedelta urged, eyes narrowed.
"Steady, Fedelta."
The Fedelta's eyes flicked over to Rath's side. Rath hadn't even noticed Shydeman's presence until the Demon Officer was beside him, nearly touching his arm.
"You wouldn't happen to be trying to make scene, would you? This is our Lord's most important event, after all."
"My apologies Shydeman," Fedelta replied, coy. "I didn't mean to intentionally provoke our honored guest."
In the crowd that had gathered, a few tittered. Rath roughly released Fedelta.
"I sincerely hope not. That's something I'd expect from Sabel, not you," Shydeman said sweetly.
Fedelta's smile fell for a moment and then he rolled his eyes."I'll take my leave then." He inclined his head in Rath's direction. "Enjoy the rest of the party, Lord Rath."
Fedelta then departed, as did the few onlookers.
Shydeman snatched Rath's wrist when he attempted to return to his seat.
"What is it now?" Rath asked curtly.
"You seem to cause trouble wherever you go," Shydeman hummed. His long nails pressed hard into Rath's skin.
Rath did not answer or betray any reaction to Shydeman's firm grip. His eyes focused on the marble floor that held his faint reflection. Between Sabel and Fedelta he was finished for the night. He felt unwilling to even muster up a retort.
"Be a good boy and continue to stay quiet," Shydeman whispered and let his fingers drag from Rath's wrist.
Rath watched Shydeman disappear amongst the throngs of cloaks and thought, decidedly, that he needed to get a breath of fresh air. He was tired of the stuffy room; a couple of minutes to himself and the night sky would be a welcome reprieve.
He side-stepped humans and demons alike paying no heed to their curious and, more often than not, glowering looks. They could look if they wanted to, he didn't care.
He had allowed Fedelta to get under his skin which, in his defense, was something Fedetla seemed to be able to do remarkably well. His words, whether true or not, had driven a question straight into his gut; what had happened to Cernozura and the maids when the castle had fallen?
His steps slowed as he thought of her, the often-smiling Head Administrator of the Dragon Castle and the Dragon Queen's closest confidant. She made sure the entire castle ran smoothly, oversaw the preparation of meals, and had doted on everyone as though they had been her own flesh and blood.
A boisterous exclamation suddenly arose from one corner of the room and Rath paused in his trek to find that a small crowd had gathered around the apparent newcomer. The amount of bodies bustling around the area was too great to get a good look at whoever it was. His skin prickled. Keep moving.
Though he had been able to walk only seconds ago, now, his feet felt rooted to the ground. Why couldn't he move? The crowd began to thin and Rath felt an irrational stab of fear suddenly shoot through him.
Don't look—, but even as he tried to tell himself this he kept his eyes fixated on the milling, cloaked forms, waiting to see who he already knew was there.
Nadil's hair was pulled into a loose ponytail, wispy strands framing his jaw and falling over his hooded eyes. He was wearing a dark cape and military attire, as though he had just returned from a campaign. Rath watched the demon generals energetically greet him—the Demon Lord would rarely grace the members of his army with his presence.
Soon Nadil's eyes fell on Rath, as though he knew exactly where to look for him.
Rath could only gaze back in abject horror, feeling trapped. The room seemed to substantially shrink down in size. To Rath, the chamber might have been empty; Nadil and he the only two in the room. He felt a nagging pull towards Nadil, as though an invisible puppeteer were trying to guide him into Nadil's arms.
What was that? He tried to shake himself of it, pain suddenly blossoming in his temple as he did so.
Shyrendora was suddenly at Nadil's side. She craned her neck to whisper something into his ear that made his eyes narrow. Rath watched the exchange, relieved that it had drawn Nadil's attention away from him. He would be able to leave now, while Nadil was distracted, and move fast enough to keep from being followed.
The thought had barely crossed his mind when he felt himself wrenched through a curtained doorway from behind. A strong arm barred his chest, forcefully dragging him backwards. He bucked when a hand was clamped over his mouth, preventing him from crying out. For a split second, he panicked, eyes wild and searching for whoever it was that had grabbed him.
Fedelta? Shydeman? No, he realized uneasily. It wasn't either of them.
This presence was cold, chilling him like the night air chilled him when he found that he had been brought out to a terrace.
He felt the arm on him loosen for a moment and he took the opportunity to shove the body behind him. The action caused Rath to stumble, making him lose his balance, and he righted himself while backing up as far as he could. His back connected with a stone railing and he gripped it while he watched his attacker straighten up. They were cloaked, a big hood shielding their face from his view.
His heart pounded furiously.
"I'm sorry," a voice gasped out from beneath the hood. "I hadn't meant to frighten you."
The figure hesitated before putting two pale hands up to lower the hood. For a moment, Rath was unable to fully process what the hood revealed; the man's short white hair and equally white eyes struck, for the third time now something in him; some distinct memory, specifically. A memory that he wasn't sure was real was drawing taut, driving him to the edge of remembering something he had forgotten a long time ago.
"Kharl?" he breathed out, baffled. Kharl's presence brought on a plethora of questions, namely one. He had killed the alchemist, hadn't he? It had been on that freezing day under Mt. Emphaza in the snow (always the snow, it was always the snow wasn't it?). He had done the deed with own hands, felt the warmth, and seen the bright blood stain the snow and his hands. He had watched Kharl fall, motionless, still as the cold air around him. He had stared at the corpse, breath condensing in clouds, trembling and wondering why killing Kharl hadn't made him feel any better.
Rath shook his head, unbelieving, not wanting to believe that Kharl was in front of him alive and well.
He muttered out more to himself than Kharl, "Impossible, how can you—how could you still be alive, after—"
"I can explain," Kharl interrupted, his voice hurried and high like he was jumping on Rath's inability to properly comprehend what was going on. "I want to explain, everything. I always have. You deserve that much. You deserve...so much."
Old memories began to bubble up, faint and then horribly vivid; of a snow covered mountain that was not Mt. Emphaza and of black feathers and the sharp taste of blood and the pain erupting from his back. The fury came back as well, white-hot and terrible, eventually growing intense enough to cause him to physically shake.
"Why are you here?" he demanded, unable to stop the shaking from reaching his voice.
"You," Kharl replied simply with an uncertain smile, testing the waters. "I came for—," he began and then flinched when Rath drew himself up further back against the stone railing when Kharl reached a hand towards him. "I wanted to help you."
Rath fumed. The audacity of the alchemist! How dare someone like Kharl, someone who played with the lives of demons, faeries, and humans for experimentation's sake alone act as though he were concerned for his well-being? Someone who had played with his own life, weakened the Light Dragon close to death, and had forced him to remember the pain he had brought on Dusis' inhabitants so long ago.
"Don't," Rath hissed out, stopping Kharl in his tracks.
Kharl seemed especially hurt by this. He shifted on the spot, eyes imploring, seemingly trying to work out the words he wanted to say
"Just—just leave me alone! I don't want to know, don't you get it?!" Rath grabbed his head, feeling the resurgence of the pain from earlier and spoke from behind grit teeth, "I've told you over and over again; I don't want to go back to how it was. I don't want to know anything more about you and me. Don't you think I'm suffering enough?"
A moment of silence settled between the two of them and Kharl's expression shifted enigmatically.
"I understand," the demon suddenly responded lackadaisically, eyes dulled somewhat. "Please, at the very least let me help you. I swear to you, I came for that reason alone. I can get you out of here."
He specified, eyes now hard: "I can hide you away from Nadil."
The words Rath might have spoke died in his throat. He was afraid to speak. He lowered his hand and gazed blankly at Kharl.
"You're lying," his voice barely rose above a whisper.
Kharl had too be. There was no escape from Demon Castle, let alone finding a way of getting across the Sea of the Dead, and all without Nadil knowing. How could Kharl just say something like that, as though the problem had already been solved—as though it were even possible.
Kharl took advantage of his shock and closed the distance between them quickly. Rath's throat tightened when he felt a light, reassuring hand on his shoulder but he made no move to shrug it off. Was it possible? Could it be possible?
You're going to regret this, something quietly told him, but a way out had finally materialized before him, one that had not existed until now.
"I know I have made so many mistakes in the past," Kharl whispered, placing another hand on Rath's other shoulder. "I've pushed you too hard. I was being so selfish. Allow me to rectify it, by doing at least this for you."
Rath's stomach somersaulted when Kharl suddenly drew him into a tight embrace. His arms hung loosely at his sides as the demon's fingers dug into the fabric of his cloak in a desperate way, as though Kharl thought that Rath would melt away if he let go.
"I-I've missed you so much," Kharl stammered, breathing hard against the crook of Rath's neck. "You don't know how long I've wanted to hold you like this. It's been far too long, far too long..."
Rath didn't understand. He had never understood where Kharl's suffering came from. Their past together, whatever it was, was a complete mystery to him but was obviously still fresh in the alchemist's mind; so much so that he had risked so much time and time again to try and force him to remember.
The alchemist's violent attack on him as a child had been his only memory of him, turning Kharl into someone that he had come to fear and hate. Yet, Kharl had always had looked at him with adoration. It was a different kind of look of love than the one that the Heaven's Star Princess had given him. What had he been to Kharl?
He stared vacantly up at the night sky and felt cold rather than warm which reminded him, unpleasantly, of other things. He didn't share Kharl's intimacy, only distrusted Kharl. He did take pity on Kharl, however. Whatever it was that Kharl felt towards him, it was obviously real.
Rath's eyes narrowed when he felt the demon's lithe body quake against him. The alchemist was still a demon, nonetheless. He had seen and heard of and had experienced firsthand Kharl's coldness and his disregard for life. He was dangerous, another unpredictable chess piece that Rath had no control over. Letting his guard down around Kharl would be foolish. But if he could use him...
"If we're to leave, we must hurry," Kharl said suddenly. "I threw together a hasty incantation that would keep our presence hidden, it will have almost worn off by now. I've told Garfacky to leave if I didn't come back in time, so we should—"
Kharl's expression became disconcerted and Rath furrowed his eyebrows when the alchemist suddenly drew him closer and almost painfully pressed himself up against him. His eyes drifted from the side of Kharl's head to the doorway and his eyes widened, his breath halting.
"What a beautiful sight," Nadil observed, closing the glass door behind him with a quiet snap. "I do hope I'm not interrupting."
Kharl's hand came up to the back of Rath's head. He could feel the tension building in the demon's body, coiling like a serpent. Rath swallowed hard, unable to tear his eyes away from Nadil. He had come to the frantic realization that Kharl was the only barrier standing between him and Nadil.
"Why Kharl, old friend. You didn't even bother come to say 'hello' to me first, your most gracious host. Though, I don't remember actually inviting you here in the first place. Isn't that a bit rude, to show up to an occasion like this unannounced? If you had informed me that you'd be here I would have made preparations, just for you."
Hearing no answer the corners of Nadil lips curled up. Nadil began to walk over to them, his boots clicking against the marbled floor.
"Rath, forgive me," Kharl pleaded against the side of Rath's cheek.
Before Rath could react Kharl was gone from him. Kharl had reached into his cloak for something and had moved so fast that if Rath had blinked he wouldn't have seen the deft movement at all.
Both the demons had stopped in their tracks. The smirk vanished from Nadil's face. For a moment Rath wondered what had happened. Then he felt a fleck of warm wetness on his cheek. He lifted a hand up, confused, and found blood on his fingers.
Kharl's body shuddered when Nadil ripped his arm from the alchemist's side. Nadil's arm was covered in blood up to the middle of his forearm, his fingers curled and dripping.
Kharl fell to a knee in front of Nadil, a wicked looking dagger fell from his hand and disintegrated into ash once it hit the ground. He jerkily raised his head up at the Demon Lord, his eyes slivers of hatred. The white cloak he wore quickly became soaked with red as he struggled to remain upright.
"Fast, but not fast enough, alchemist," Nadil chided.
Kharl doubled over, clutching his side, and coughed wetly. His shoulders shook as no doubt the pain was intense. Nadil ignored the action and bent down in one easy and fluid movement to grab Kharl's neck.
Kharl choked and his bloodied hands flew up to weakly to grab at Nadil's wrist. Nadil dragged him up until Kharl's feet barely scrapped the floor.
"How unfortunate. Emotions have made you sloppy. You can be infuriatingly clever but there's one thing that never fails to cloud your judgment, isn't that right?"
Kharl's lack of reply did not dissuade Nadil, who seemed to be enjoying the sight of Kharl suffering
"Listen carefully to what I have to say. If you leave now, I'll forget this little suicidal decision of yours and let you go. Trust me, you'll thank me for it later."
Nadil's mouth parted in silent amusement when Kharl glared down at him with one eye, the other closed tightly.
"No, I will not. You promised me. I'm not leaving without him," Kharl ground out. But Nadil appeared unfazed by the statement.
"Now, now. That inability to listen surely won't help that little human's situation, will it?"
His eyes danced with sadistic pleasure when the look of confusion that passed across Kharl's features quickly turned to one of dread.
"My dutiful officer, Shyrendora, found your young ward sneaking around the halls. He's got quite a mouth on him. I should think that while we're speaking, at this very moment, he's having a little talk with some demons I know—some demons who are very good at what they do."
Kharl stammered out something inaudible past his bloodied lips, then managed to get out a choked, "Don't—leave him be! He has nothing to do with this!"
"Oh, on the contrary, I think he does—accompanying you through the Sea of the Dead and all, you've damned him right along with yourself. Nothing terribly maiming will happen to him, if and only if you do to exactly what I tell you. Understand?"
A couple of tense moments passed before Kharl nodded. He was unceremoniously dumped to the ground and Rath winced as he yelped in agony.
"You will be escorted out of the castle grounds immediately. And you are never to return unless I call for you. No more surprises Kharl. I've let you keep your dusty little castle in the middle of that wasteland, that should be enough for you. Pour through your books for the end of time for all I care and create your abominations, but I will not stand for another act of insubordination like this."
Kharl stood, shaking, his small form hunched over. He kept his stony gaze on the floor.
"You should hurry, you know how delicate humans can be, especially the children."
Kharl's eyes found Nadil's and he stammered out weakly,"Y-you said you wouldn't kill him."
"I won't. The demon's detaining him—well, I can make no promises. They never seem to know when to stop."
Kharl shuddered, squeezing his eyes shut.
"Shyrendora is waiting for you outside," Nadil then said briskly, making room for Kharl. He waved his hand vaguely toward the door behind him. "Leave."
Rath watched as Kharl lumbered his way, piece-meal, to the door, tiny pools of blood forming beneath him as he went. He turned somewhat and caught Rath's eye. He looked harrowed, as though the act of leaving was causing him immense pain, far more than his physical injury. Kharl soon tore himself away and exited the room.
Still in shock at they speed in which Nadil had dispatched Kharl, Rath didn't recognize the dangerous situation that he had been forced into until he felt a hand slip deftly under his chin.
He inhaled sharply as his head was tilted upward. Nadil smiled serenely down at Rath and used his clean hand to smear Kharl's blood across Rath's cheek.
"What a nice look," Nadil observed. "It suits you."
Rath flinched at Nadil's touch. He stood stock-still, unable to move out of sheer terror. Nadil pressed closer and trapped him against the stone. The terrace was high above the castle grounds, a steep drop. There was no where left to run.
"Tell me, did master and servant catch up with one another?" Nadil inquired lightly.
Master and servant? What is he talking about? Nadil couldn't have been referring to Kharl and him.
His expression must have shown his puzzlement, as Nadil's smile grew.
"Oh? He hasn't told you yet? How cute." He cupped the side of Rath's face and then turned his gaze to his blood covered hand, turning it around.
"The alchemist has that way about him, manipulative person that he is; especially when concerning you, his most prized achievement. He never shies away at the opportunity to beat around the bush. If I were you, I'd be worn thin by his little predictable routine."
Rath searched for answers in Nadil's face, his disinterest in knowing more faltering. Nadil knew about his past. Did it have something to do with why Nadil was keeping him alive?
He balled his hands into fists clenched when Nadil turned back to him. Rath could see that Nadil was finding his internal struggle amusing, and this infuriated him.
Abruptly, Nadil's hand slipped into his cloak, grabbing Rath by the waist. His bloodied hand came up to grab Rath's hair, forcing his head back. Rath gasped at the rough handling, eyes going wide.
"He probably wants you to work it out yourself. " Nadil tightened his grip on Rath, eliciting a groan. "Typical. How utterly boring."
Kharl's blood was so pungent in the air that Rath felt nauseated. His vision began to swim. Nadil tutted when Rath made feeble attempts to try to pry himself away.
"You see, the two of you are much closer than you think. Your blood might as well be his."
Saying this, Nadil ran a thumb across Rath's lips, pressing a streak of Kharl's blood across them. Rath pursed them shut.
"Isn't that so very loyal of him, to come and so recklessly try to save you? Given a few more brain cells and he might have actually done it. But when it's concerning you, he's oddly less composed. Makes you wonder, doesn't it?"
"My Lord? May I speak with you?" Shydrendora's voice suddenly interrupted from behind half-open glass door.
Nadil removed his hand from its place.
"Share my bed tonight," he whispered, shooting Rath a piercing look. "Maybe I might enlighten some things for you."
With a chuckle he stalked to the door, opened it, and greeted the irritated officer outside.
The door was left slightly ajar as the two demons faded from Rath's sight. He continued to stare forward, his pale hand at his neck. His throat and eyes burned.
He looked down an found the discolored spot on the floor's reflective surface left by Kharl. The alchemist's blood was congealing in a thick puddle and Rath felt his stomach turn at the sight. He slowly slid down the railing.
He sobbed quietly as an unrelenting sense of hopelessness washed over him. A chance to escape had been so ruthlessly cut down before his very eyes. He had tried to stop himself from embracing the idea but it had been to tempting—too needed by him. It was all over now. Kharl was gone.
Rath startled himself with the recollection of Kharl embracing him. As much as his past encounters had given him cause to be wary of Kharl, in that very moment he had allowed Kharl to approach him and actually touch him. In a faint memory, he had felt the same touch. Someone had held him like that once before, someone who had felt as cold as the melting snowflakes had that froze his cheeks during that time—in some place he had once called "home".
The distant rumble of thunder made Rath crane his neck and a small, icy drop of water splashed on his cheek, joining the now-dried blood.