aamon paxley X o.c. • the duke and the runaway

36.

Smoke.

Ashes.

Flames.

The golden brown-haired Crisiant gasped in air, only to cough due to the acrid scent in the atmosphere. Her throat was dry and itchy, the xerothermic environment that surrounded her caused her to feel uncomfortable.

She shakily stood up from the cinders that she laid upon and blinked frequently, getting dust in her green eyes. She hissed at the prickling particles within her sockets then she rubbed her fingers against her eyelids, driving away the troublesome disruption of her vision.

As she massaged her closed orifices, she perceived the jingle of chains and realized that her hands were bound.

Seraph finally cleared her sight and checked the place around her. It was looking disastrous with all the jagged rocks and cracked ground which contained embers. She could hear a bubbling sound of nearby magma and feel the inextinguishable heat of the dangerous orange liquid and lit fires.

Blood and other nasty smells of bodily fluids perfumed the place. There were bones and skulls that were chipped, shattered and blackened by the smog and fire from this hell. Some skulls bore horns and spikes, informing the human that the corpses not only belong to humans or elves but also to orcs and demons.

She tried to move but discovered that one of her ankles was chained to an obsidian part of the ground. It was a tough material that she couldn't even budge.

Seraphima struggled and used her hands to at least summon her magic but nothing happened.

"No," she uttered softly in anger, "Why now?!"

"Don't worry, love." Her head shot up to the source of that... devilish voice who disgustingly called her with a pet name. "Those cuffs temporarily cuts off your magic but there's no loss. You still have them within you. However, you can't use it. Especially within my domain."

That familiar tuft of chestnut brown hair.

A man clad in silver and black with plated armor.

Those blue— no, terrifyingly sanguine orbs.

Paired with a menacing smirk.

"Kalon! Damn you!" She glowered at him and struggled to approach him but the chain restricted her from doing so. He hummed in amusement, similar to the way that Gusion did before— before all of this. Seraph grimaced at the uncanny resemblance.

"And here I expect you say Gusion's name like how other mortals react upon seeing their loved ones or closest friends," then he neared her and grabbed her face with his left hand, "But I'm impressed that you don't let setimentality get the best of you."

She growled, "Let him go!"

The evil deity of trickery, Kalon, hummed leisurely while scrutinizing her face with a hint of admiration, "I must say... Gusion got a good taste in women."

"Don't you dare speak of his name with your dirty tongue!" Seraph pried his hand off of her chin but the chestnut-haired individual waved his hand in a flourish, a dark magic forced the woman's bounded hands to stay before her as he grabbed her face, his fingernails excruciatingly digging into her skin.

"You have no right to command me, Celestial Guardian. Even if you possess the Heart of Amina, you remain a mere human. A pesky mortal," he told her using Gusion's voice laced with a murderous tone. It wouldn't surprise her if his intentions might be brutal. "Your mother, however, was poweful yet foolish to wish for a child who isn't as powerful as her."

"And how about you? You are trying to assert your power over me but you seem helpless enough to need a human vessel," she mocked him, "Are you weak to make one yourself?"