The imp hesitated, his gaze fixed on the pouch.
“Fifty pieces of gold. At least that’s how heavy that bag of yours looks,” he replied with a smirk, revealing his yellow, crooked teeth.
“That’s too much, you old imp. There’s no way anyone will ever pay that much for three horses,” Bijarki shot back, irritated. “Don’t try to rip us off.”
“What, you think I’m afraid of your uniform?” The imp got loud and snappy. “I’m not afraid of you! It’s fifty pieces of gold, or you walk wherever you need to go!”
“This is robbery, old imp! These may be good horses, but I wouldn’t give you more than twenty pieces for them. And that’s if I’m feeling generous,” Bijarki held his ground.
“Then walk!” the old imp snapped and moved to go back inside his little cabin.
“Please be kind, sir,” I heard Anjani purr from my side. “We’re just trying to get to the River Pyros in time.”
My head felt light, and my whole body tingled as a heatwave poured through me. She’d turned on her succubus nature and aimed it at the old imp.
I was downright collateral damage, based on how badly I suddenly wanted to kiss her and lose myself in her.
I felt Bijarki’s arm grab mine and squeeze tight, enough to help me focus. Judging by the smirk on his face, he knew exactly what Anjani was doing. I then looked at the imp and understood. The creature looked smitten. His eyes had softened and a goofy smile slit his face from pointy ear to pointy ear. He was certainly responsive to Anjani’s charms.
“You’re heading down to the river, you say?” he asked, his gaze devouring her.
I couldn’t stifle the tension rising in my chest. My hands balled into fists at my side. I was ready to knock the old imp out if he so much as moved a finger toward Anjani. Bijarki’s fingers dug harder into my flesh, keeping me tethered, and I was grateful.
“Yes, good sir, and my feet are tired. I just want to get to the river before sunrise,” Anjani replied. “Can’t we settle at twenty pieces of gold, please? We still need some money for food and shelter where we’re going. Surely a handsome imp such as yourself doesn’t have the heart to leave a creature like me stranded.”
Her voice was honey, and it did all sorts of things to my brain. I stilled, my mind imagining her engulfed in my arms, that sweet voice beckoning me to let our bodies and souls merge into one. I needed a few deep breaths to return to reality.
“Twenty pieces of gold it’ll be then,” he told Bijarki. “But only because you’ve got this gorgeous creature here with you! I don’t want her feet to suffer!”
Bijarki nodded and gave him the money, while Anjani dropped a kiss on the old imp’s forehead. She put the reins on the horses.
The imp seemed to melt, smiling like a lovesick puppy and watching as she took the horses out and put the saddles on them one by one. He didn’t even bother to put his money away. His fistful of gold hung by his side.
“I think we should travel with her more often,” Bijarki muttered next to me, then addressed the imp. “Thank you, sir. You’ve been too kind! May the Daughters smile upon you!”
We got on our newly acquired horses and moved toward the exit. I felt Anjani’s succubus nature shut itself down, leaving me with my usual longing for her in its wake. The emptiness was just as unbearable but somehow more manageable. She was truly a force of seduction. I was putty in her hands. I couldn’t blame the old imp for giving in so easily.
My mind froze as we passed a group of creatures—tall and slim with pale white skin and black eyes, wearing long gray robes and hoods.
“Don’t look at them,” I heard Bijarki say too late.
I made eye contact with one of the creatures and blanked out completely.
Next thing I knew, we were out of the market, our horses trotting farther south toward the River Pyros. The jungle was dark and silent around us. I looked over my shoulder to see the marketplace we left behind, several yards back.
“What just happened?” I asked, realizing that I’d lost a few good minutes since I’d seen those hooded creatures.
“Those were Maras you made eye contact with,” Anjani replied with a smirk.
“They looked rather strange,” I said, remembering the paleness and full black eyes.
“They’re very dangerous if you cross them in any way. They have impressive mental abilities. They do not read minds, but they can sneak into your head and play tricks on your thoughts. What did you see while you were out?” Bijarki asked.
“What do you mean I was out?”
“Your mind pretty much shut down. You were stunned and quiet with eyes wide open, as if paralyzed. It’s what happens when a Mara enters your mind. Most of the time, they implant the nastiest of visions and bad dreams, so you might be in for a rough night,” he replied.
“I didn’t see anything. I just lost some time from the moment I made eye contact to the moment I asked you what happened,” I mumbled, looking over my shoulder.
“We’ll have to keep an eye on you tonight, just in case.”
“Just in case?” I asked with an increasing sense of alarm.
“Don’t worry, the effect doesn’t last for long. You only looked at them for a second or two. You’ll be fine!” Anjani interjected.
I nodded weakly, trying to push the worry aside, and focused on the road for the next minute.
Then, on an impulse, I looked behind me again. My nerves resurfaced as I noticed more and more creatures gathered at the gates of the marketplace, more than two hundred feet away.
I engaged my inner-wolf to get a better look. They were all looking at us suspiciously, and some of the incubi in the crowd gripped the hilts of their swords. Shadows darted from the marketplace into the jungle on both sides, and my instinct put me on high alert.
I heard whispers and shuffles through the trees as our horses picked up the pace. The hairs on the back of my neck rose, and I took my crossbow out, loading it with a poisoned arrow and gripping it firmly.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was going to follow us.
Aida
I was having a vision. I’d managed to bring myself to a state of focus that allowed me to browse through the present with a little bit more precision than usual. I’d homed in on Azazel and his Destroyers, and I was making progress.
As the darkness dissipated to the outer edges of my visual field, I realized I was standing in Azazel’s personal chamber. It was built entirely from obsidian blocks, beautifully polished and stacked to impressive heights, allowing a massive black iron chandelier to dangle from the ceiling. Its white candles burned red.
It was a spacious room. Crimson flames reflected in the smooth black walls. A massive bed was mounted against the wall, covered in red silk sheets. A sturdy round ebony table stood in the middle, its legs sculpted to resemble snakes, their jaws open and fangs ready to pierce flesh.
Azazel was looking at a large map sprawled on the shiny surface. The map was riddled with ink marks defining conquered areas of Eritopia. Joining him were two other Destroyers, one bulky and rough, the other also large but athletic, with carved muscles and softer features. They were engaged in a heavy conversation, constantly pointing at various points on the map.
“Patrik, I do not have the patience to deal with Roderick’s clan anymore,” Azazel said, running his fingers through his long black hair.
The infinity snake medallion glistened in the semi-darkness, its ruby eyes reflecting the crimson flames from the overhead chandelier. It creeped me out, as if it were sentient and able to see me, so I did my best to avoid looking at it.
“I’m very close to convincing him to join us, my liege,” the athletic Destroyer, identified as Patrik, said. “I just need another day or two. That is all. There is no point in spilling the blood of potential new soldiers when I can persuade Roderick to swear fealty to you.”
“I’m giving you another day before I send Goren to take care of things the old-fashioned way,” Azazel replied, stroking
his medallion.
The bulky Destroyer named Goren wore a self-satisfied grin, and his thick arms crossed as he looked over the map.
“I’m happy to fly in and teach that self-righteous incubus what obedience means,” he hissed, while Azazel rolled his eyes.
“My biggest concern isn’t with Roderick,” Patrik insisted. “He can be persuaded eventually. I just need to point out the repercussions of rebellion for his entire clan, including his seven sons and his wife, and he will bend.”
“He’s had it too good, if you ask me. Seven sons, and he got to keep the mother, unlike most incubus clans. Perhaps you are right. A reminder of how fortunate he is might help him see things more clearly,” Azazel smirked. “Like I said, you have one day, Patrik, before we send in the brute force.”
Patrik nodded and pointed at another district further north on the map.
“What about Marchosi, my liege?” he asked.
His snake-like tongue flickered between his lips, and his yellow eyes scanned the territories beneath his large palm.
“What about him?”
“Can he be trusted? You may have finally conquered his district, but his people might still put up a good fight. He might have said yes just to live another day, while his troops prepare to defend the city.”
“Do not worry about Marchosi, Patrik. He is under my spell now. The darkness is slowly eating away at him, and soon enough, he’ll be forever under my control, whether he likes it or not. The City of White Stone will be mine by the end of this month,” Azazel replied, then dipped a quill in black ink and crossed out the entire district on the map. “The last Druid-owned city fell the moment Marchosi said yes. The rest is purely administrative clutter, as far as I’m concerned.”
“It’s true, though,” Goren interjected with the same obnoxious grin, his sharp fangs bared and menacing. “Once Azazel’s darkness takes over, it’s not just your body that caves in. Forget control over your snake form altogether. It’s your will that gets corrupted. The more you fight it, the harder it gets, and the more you suffer. You’ve seen the bastard hissing and wailing, barely holding on to the walls while he struggles to maintain his Druid form, Patrik. He’s almost gone!”
The words sounded strange coming from a Destroyer who had also lost his mind and body to Azazel. It was as if Goren didn’t recognize his own corruption.
Patrik nodded slowly, looking away. A muscle tensed in his jaw, and a frown drew his brows close, casting shadows under his eyes. I couldn’t help but wonder whether Patrik was content with his status, as one of Azazel’s most trusted lieutenants.
Goren’s statement provided me with some crucial information. Azazel’s corruption spell went deeper than Draven had originally told us. It wasn’t just physical. It was able to bend the will of its victim. Destroyers were once Druids, but we’d been under the impression that they’d all willingly joined Azazel. It turned out they hadn’t really had a choice.
“Remember your first days, boy?” Goren cackled and slapped Patrik on the back, causing him to hiss with irritation. “You were crying and punching walls, crying after Almus like a little girl, swearing that you would rather die than lead any of Azazel’s armies. Now look at you. A fine lieutenant, racking up territories and bodies like trophies!”
Clear displeasure imprinted itself on Patrik’s face. His hands clutched the edge of the table, his knuckles white.
“Give it a rest, Goren,” he shot back. “We weren’t all spineless traitors like yourself!”
“Traitor?!” Goren growled. His pupils dilated, his nostrils flared, and his tail rattled furiously. “I saw where the true power is! It’s with Azazel! I chose to be here, and I do my best to please our lord! Besides, I do a very good job of it too! Better than you, if you ask me! I didn’t waste a minute trying to persuade those succubi in the Red Tribe to join us. I rained down on them with spears and arrows laced with poison. I burned and killed everything that dared to stand against us! Isn’t that right, Sir?”
Goren addressed Azazel, who was rolling his eyes so deeply that I could only see the whites.
“If you’re looking for praise and flattery, Goren, you’ve picked the wrong Druid,” Azazel smirked. “You all caved in, whether you liked it or not. Your wills are mine, and it makes no difference to me whether you came in willingly or kicking and screaming. I give the orders. You execute. That’s all there is to it. No awards, no medals, just the honor of still breathing.”
Goren’s grin faded.
A smile tugged at the corner of Patrik’s mouth. Clearly, he’d been forced to become a Destroyer, while Goren had willingly joined the Destroyer ranks. Patrik was still struggling, but Azazel’s spell ran so deep, he had no way of fighting it. His will was no longer his own. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him, wondering how many lives he’d taken, how loaded his conscience must be. How many tears had he shed for the innocent creatures he’d been forced to kill?
“If you expect me to congratulate you for killing a bunch of succubi, Goren, you’ve got another thing coming. They’re succubi, not Dearghs. You snap them like twigs, you oaf,” Azazel added, then turned to give Patrik a surprisingly sympathetic look. “My dear Patrik, I have always kept you in the highest of regard, even when you were commanding Almus’s troops. Your skill in battle and flawless strategy have brought me this far, after all. It’s the only reason why I tolerate your whims and blatant displeasure regarding your role as my Destroyer. Do not worry about Marchosi. He’ll be fully under my control very soon. He is much weaker than you ever were.”
Patrik nodded again and pointed elsewhere on the map.
“When do we move south, then?”
“We’ll start very soon. I’ve set up a fine strategy for this campaign, Patrik. You will love it! But for now, we wait. Not all of my pieces have fallen into place just yet.”
I felt sick to my stomach, unable to take my eyes off Goren. The massive chunk of meat with a rattle-snake tail was the one who’d led the charge against the Red Tribe. He was the one responsible for all the death and destruction, for killing Hansa and Anjani’s sisters. My stomach churned as I pictured the monster attacking the camp, slaying little succubi and laughing as he set the tents on fire.
My heart broke. The agony, the grief, and the anger made me want to leave. I couldn’t stand the sight of him anymore. I was already looking forward to telling Hansa the name of the Destroyer whose hands were tainted with all that silvery blood.
I was able to shift to another vision swiftly. I was standing on the ridge of a mountain, the evening air cold against my skin. The sky darkened in shades of purple. The sun had already set. Judging by the last flickers of red beyond the horizon, I was able to tell that I was somewhere north.
My mind suddenly clicked as I looked to my right. I could see the burned down camp beyond the deep green forest that unfolded at the base of the mountain. The Red Tribe had lived here for millennia, up until a couple of days ago. I squinted my eyes, my inner-wolf beating the distance and helping me get a better look at the ashes of a massive funeral pyre and the charred remains of tents, swords, spears, and arrows poked out of the purple grass. It all resonated with Jovi’s description of the Red Tribe camp.
I had moved from Azazel’s castle to the northern mountains.
Well done, Aida!
I looked to my right, where the lush forest broke into a small clearing beneath the evening sky. A small fire burned in the middle, and I could see several figures moving around it. A glimmer of hope pulled strings in my heart, and my feet moved in that direction.
I climbed down the ridge and made my way through the thick dark forest, riddled with animals. What sounded like small furry creatures rushed beneath the bushes. Slender deer chewed on leaves, and numerous night birds sang to each other. If it weren’t for all the impending doom, this would have made a great camping spot.
I made it into the clearing and found twelve young succubi gathered around a small fire. The smudges of red war paint and torn lea
ther garments helped me identify them as survivors of the Red Tribe. My heart leapt with joy as I realized that there were indeed sisters of Hansa and Anjani who had survived the massacre.
Two of them were extremely young, most likely in their teens. They were cuddled up beneath a thick fur, warming up by the fire as they slept. The others were adults, probably the same age as Anjani, judging by the similar attire. From what Jovi had told me, the succubi tended to dress their age. The older they got, the more weapons and metals they wore on their bodies. Which made sense based on the two succubi I knew personally. Anjani had a few strips of leather wrapped around her body, while Hansa favored silver chest and shin plates, leather pants, and the red cape.
These creatures were dressed like Anjani in different shades of brown and black leather with silver knives dangling from their belts. They looked tired. Their eyes shimmered with tears, as they roasted small animals on the fire. Their expressions told of defeat and grief, and they slowly chewed their food and drank from their water bladders.
“Do you think anyone else survived?” one of the succubi asked, picking pieces of meat from her teeth with the tip of her blade.
“I have a hard time believing that, Olia,” said another, poking the fire with a stick. “We barely made it out of there in one piece.”
A third one sniffed and wiped tears away with the back of her hand.
“Perra, what about Hansa?” the third asked the second succubus.
“She’s probably back by now. She’s probably seen it all. She’s feeling what we’re all feeling, maybe worse, since she raised most of us,” Perra replied.
“Should we go there?” Olia asked.
“It’s too soon, too risky. We have the children with us. We have to be smart about this,” Perra said. “Adisa, do we have any prayer dust left?”
The third succubus nodded and started digging through her satchel, while a fourth stood up, visibly angry with her hands at her sides, balled into tight fists. My heart bled for them, but I couldn’t do anything. I was merely a formless viewer.