Demons (Damirae)

Chapter Sixty-Two

Guarded by two blazing fires, the doors barred all entry to the room he wished to enter. But no matter, he wasn't an unskilled individual- assassins were trained better than to be vanquished by doors. Most certainly so, assassins of his...nature. He had undergone training beyond that of any common soldier in the Head's organisation.

Knowing that those who would occupy the sealed room were engaged elsewhere (he had utilised his contacts, who had infiltrated the occupied realm, to create a diversion of sorts) the man pressed his palm flat of the divide between the two doors. Closing his eyes, the man bowed his head, his braids falling over his shoulder, and inhaled deeply. Eyes of honey flashing open, the man whispered in an old tongue known only to those learned in the magical arts.

At the conclusion of the last syllable, the doors parted from his palm, hissing as they brushed against the floor. Stepping through the opened threshold, the man entered a room crafted from the aspirations of every monarch. Each of the other three walls was ladened with tapestries of woven gold depicting the bloodiest of the universe's wars with such heart wrenching detail that the man could scarcely contain his emotions. For an age, he stood marvelling at the beautiful horrors sewn before him, caught between tears and screaming.

One wall showcased a battle to damn all crusades and put Ares to shame. The gods, in all their glory, and the angels, in all their holy pretences; the demons, in all their sin, and the monsters, in all their bestiality. Before man. Before the Dark and Light. Before the gods surrendered the under-places.

When there was only a bloody mess of holy war.

Monsters tore the wings of angels to shreds as the demons smashed their halos and ripped from the safety of their chests their hearts. And the gods unleashed the fury of the seas, the skies and the under-places to drown and destroy and consume. Yet the monsters continued to feast on the carnage and the demons relished in the greed of their creations and the wrath of those above.

How fitting for the place the tapestry dwelled.

Still, on the wall opposite was another, a jarringly unconventional tapestry for such a place, yet even worse than the former. For it showed the Last Lady of the Trees. Rather, her death. More so, her murder.

The pinnacle of beauty, echoing the life of the universe, with a thousand year-old oak being only the size of her hand. The last of her kind, yet the loving nurturer. With a smile like the light of a million suns and as loving as the mother of all- what a blessing to the universe that Mother Nature. But a glorious, smiling blessing that had a cavity in her chest, spewing an ocean of gold and drowning her trees in the pure sap that was her blood. Bathed in that golden liquid, was her heart. Lying there, besides her fallen form, carved out of her like any man's meat dinner.

What greater tragedy? What worse injustice? What action more of an abomination against purity?

The man forced himself to walk forward, over the onyx floor, towards the centre of all attention in the throne room. The throne itself. A mighty construct of human remains hewn together by the blackest of magic that made his skin crawl and his soul squirm. Could not a giant sit on that throne? It reached halfway to the ceiling (an expanse of precious metal intricacies and depictions of the original sins) which he was certain stretched beyond that of any human castle's throne room.

This man's task wasn't simply to gawk at the room, though. No, he didn't act without reason. He was given the task of enchanting a certain object which lay besides the throne- a sceptre, holding no magical properties, but symbolically wielded by the sovereign. A simple but powerful spell was needed, one that would go undetected.

He needed to make a certain someone very weak, very slowly. So he would enchant the sceptre-wielder, instil a festering illness in them, one that took over from the root to the leaves. Then an attack could be made.

Emrys would not make any mistakes today, nor ever in this situation. His task was vital, and he could not afford to fail- they could not afford to fail. For Damian Al Ghul had entrusted him in the task of bringing down the forces occupying Hell, and the demoness had done so too.

No, Emrys would not fail indeed.

A.N:

Hello my darlings!

So...ONE WHOLE YEAR!!! It has been one whole year and I have gone from 1 read to 50k+ reads!!! My God, this is more than I could ever have hoped for, to have so many people there actually caring what I'm writing and to know that I've created something that had made people laugh and cry is just...wow.
I don't know what I'm even doing with my life sometimes but I always know that I have to write to keep up the updating schedule😂

This book has been a constant through out this year that has helped me through so much shit that you would not believe. To be straight with you guys, this books had dragged me out of a terrible mental state and stopped so much from happening.

What would I do without you guys who've been here since day one? Seriously, I love you guys. And those that have come in more recent times.

Thank you, thank you so much. I always write 'thank you darling' when replying to nice comments, but I really mean it. You don't know what goes on behind my screen every time I read the comments I get, but let me tell you now, I get so unbelievably smiley and happy.

Thank you my darlings,

Batool ❤️