"My dearest Mireya..." His cold hand wraps around her wrist and guides the blade away from her heart.
"...Do you believe your death is something I want?"
***
Aitháli was an empire known for its lush for...
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Ciaran
She left.
He felt the lack of her presence the second she must have left the castle grounds. It felt as though something hollowed out in his chest, a feeling he had gotten used to for so long, only this time it was different. It was too hard to ignore.
He tried to tell himself that it was inevitable. She had said she would leave. It was stupid of him to think she would stay in such a place, regardless of whether or not he ensured her safety.
She didn't trust him. The feeling was mutual, but not to the same extent. No, it was so much more different for him.
Ciaran tried to force himself to focus on the book in his lap as he sat on the throne. The black puff of smoke sitting wistfully at the bottom of the regal seat let out quiet wails of pain only he could hear. It was the only disadvantage of sitting on there. Such a comfortable seat, and yet it was almost impossible to sit there for too long without wanting to shove something, anything, into his ear to make it stop.
Ciaran looked at the sentence he was reading, and proceeded to read it over and over again. Upon noticing this he tried to keep going, only to get stuck on the next two sentences. It only took a quick moment of distraction for him to completely dismiss the book in his lap.
He stood. The wailing stopped, and he was left in silence.
Return. Now.
The demons heard his order from the furthest recesses and corners of the Aithálian borders. They slowly began their journey to the castle. Most began their flight back, others refused to obey and remained where they were.
When the curse had just come to be, he had full control of them, but now, that was no longer the case. The demons and their taste for death had become insatiable. Even after so many years, they craved more; more terror, more death, more power.
It was a struggle to keep them at bay every single night. Some of them still obeyed Ciaran's commands. The others rebelled. He hated to think of what might happen if he lost control of them completely. The power to control them had been granted to him, but it was possible that it could be taken away. Having those demons under no control would be true hell on the earth, not just Aitháli.
Ciaran hadn't realized why he had called the demons back. He heard the flap of their wings and their hisses of approval at the negative energy that surrounded the castle.
The death, the sorrow, the souls that remained trapped there. The demons fed off of that energy and relished in it.
He walked out of the throne room and made his way to the library. After he had spent so many years in the castle, navigating the rooms was no struggle to him. He reached the room in little to no time and walked to where he had plucked the book from. He slid it back in place and decided to find another that would hold onto his attention for longer.
