Demons, Witches, and Toads (BoyxBoy)

Body and Soul

Wheeler had been ushered onto a large, circular platform, surrounded by a swarm of fellow golden robed figures. Many were crying or screaming, though a few simply stood there, watching in silence like Wheeler.

A line of golden-masked men circled around them, each carrying a gold bowl in their hands and a sword at their side. Despite the sobbing and wailing, no one made any move to escape, knowing fully well that if they weren't cut down by the masked men, the crowd of onlookers would be on them in a matter of seconds.

Hundreds of people were gathered around them, all watching in eager anticipation. Despite the wide arrangement of onlookers, one thing seemed to unite them all. Clearly displayed on each of their persons was the same golden eye. Wheeler assumed the massive crowd must have come from every corner of the Icy Mountains, each dragging a few golden-robbed victims with them.

Wheeler felt for his wand, still nestled deep within his pocket. Arlo thankfully hadn't thought to strip him of it since Wheeler had been so compliant. He could defend himself if he had to. Wheeler only wished he knew from what.

He was abruptly ripped from his thoughts as the ground beneath him began to tremble.

The crowd went dead silent for a moment. And then slowly a low chant began, so quiet that Wheeler couldn't make out what they were saying at first. Their attention had locked on a large circular pit beneath the platform, the only area in sight that wasn't swarmed with eye-clad onlookers.

Wheeler soon understood why.

A massive marble pillar began to rise up from the pit. On it stood a man, masked like the ones surrounding Wheeler. The pillar continued to shoot higher and higher into the air, the chanting growing with it until Wheeler finally understood the word they were saying.

"Prophet."

They kept chanting the word, the volume growing almost deafening as it echoed off the chamber walls.

Finally the pillar stilled to a halt, towering above them. Moonlight seeped in from a circular skylight, bathing the mysterious prophet in a pale silver glow as he suddenly threw out his hands. The moment he did the crowd erupted into an explosion of thunderous cheers.

"Good evening," the prophet called. Despite how high up he was, his voice carried clearly, echoing throughout the massive chamber. The voice sounded oddly familiar, and Wheeler felt his mind frantically turning as he attempted to place where he'd heard it before.

"You have done your duty well and collected a fine selection for tonight's quinquennial celebration," the prophet continued, gesturing to the sobbing mass of golden-robed figures huddled below him. "As promised, the Golden One will continue to protect your families and homes in thanks for your divine service."

As he said this, a marble stairwell began to descend from the pillar, stopping only when it reached the platform's surface where Wheeler and the others stood.

"For the blessed chosen," the prophet continued, gracefully beginning to make his way down the steps, "a beautiful destiny awaits. You shall have the honor of becoming one with him."

Finally he stepped onto the platform. A few robed figures attempted to cower back only to be roughly shoved by the guards back into the platform's center.

"Do not be afraid," the masked man murmured, his gaze seering into the trembling victims. "To serve our lord fully, in body and soul, is a glorious privilege." He bowed his head. "And thus, let me not deny you of it further. We shall begin." The moment the words left his mouth, the prophet moved to unclasp his mask, letting it slip down to expose his face.

Wheeler's breath caught, his stomach turning to ice water. All he could do was stare wide-eyed, almost unable to comprehend what he was seeing. It seemed impossible, but there could be no doubt about who stood before him.

The Golden One's prophet was none other than Milton Slengeborn.

The professor's demeanor was nearly unrecognizable from the strict, ill- tempered man who'd taught Wheeler for nearly two years. Milton's eyes were wild with excitement from behind his spectacles, a wide, toothy grin on his face that caused Wheeler to shiver.

Seeing someone so familiar now completely changed made the dread in Wheeler's chest grow to the point of nausea. With a start, he realized he'd begun to tremble uncontrollably. Wheeler had already been terrified, but knowing Milton was there felt like the final nail in the coffin, any last hope of protecting himself instantly shattered. Professor Milton was one of the kingdom's most powerful magicians. He'd trained Wheeler and knew his magic better than almost anyone. There was no way Wheeler could best him if it came to a fight.

He felt like he was going to vomit.

Milton extended a hand, pointing to one of the masked guards. "Come now," he said softly. "Pick one."

The guard nodded, grabbing a hooded figure roughly by the arm. She let out a frightened wail as he dragged her from the group, only stopping when he reached Milton. The guard yanked her hood back, revealing a woman, her face streaked with snot and tears.

"Oh, sweet child, do not cry," Milton murmured. "This is a joyous day. You are about to become the essence of power for the Golden One himself." As he spoke, he ran a finger across her forehead, tracing a shape. Despite the fact that his hands were dry, golden paint seemed to appear wherever his fingers brushed her skin. At last, Milton removed his hand, revealing the symbol of a golden eye roughly painted across her brow.

The professor stepped back. Instantly the masked guard moved to kneel before the woman, bowing his head. His hands clasped his golden bowl tightly, lifting it up beneath her.

"And now," Milton said, "let you become his, body and soul."

The moment the words left his lips, the woman began to scream. The sound seemed almost inhuman, like the cry of a helpless animal being mercilessly throttled.

A wave of hysteria took hold of Wheeler as he saw what was actually happening to her.

The skin on her fingers had begun to unravel, peeling away like someone might skillfully strip an orange. Despite this, no blood or bone was exposed - a thick, black liquid seeping out in its place from wherever her flesh seemed to vanish. The liquid moved slowly through the air, as if traveling through water, before sinking into the bowl the guard held out.

All Wheeler could do was watch in horror, tears streaming down his cheeks as the rest of the woman's skin was peeled from her body, stripping her away to nothing.

She let out one final, tortured scream as her face unraveled. And then all that was left of her was that inky black liquid, floating down into the bowl. The tendrils of peeled skin fell limply to the floor, causing the crowd to let out a cheer so loud it was almost deafening.

Despite having just mercilessly dismantled a woman, Milton didn't waste a breath before pointing to another guard. "You," he ordered. "Pick the next."

The guard glanced around, reaching forward as he grabbed Wheeler roughly by the arm. The moment he made contact, Wheeler's legs nearly gave out from under him, his heart jumping into his throat. Wheeler's mind reeled, desperately searching for any means of escape as he was forcefully dragged towards Milton.

He couldn't let it end like this, he just couldn't.

If Mully found out he'd gotten himself killed this easily he'd show up in the afterlife and kick Wheeler's ass for sure.