Demons (Damirae)

Chapter Ninety-Four

Trigon smiled.

He could already feel Calder gearing himself up. Lust would enjoy this one, no doubt Ephron and Linus would be curious too.

Trigon saw her eyes, so fearful and green, take in her new surroundings. She looked at him, but there was something firmer in those eyes now, and she stopped struggling and stood up straight. Trigon knew she saw something in him when she looked there, something very dark and very ancient, and frankly he couldn't care less what this plaything thought. She had a bit more spirit to be broken apparently- that was no issue. Perhaps Trigon might break her himself, classical entertainment and all.

A few nights later, Raven was called to the throne room. Her short legs shook and she sped to her father, dreading inciting his frustration. In the centre of the room, facing Trigon, was this Al Ghul woman Adyn had mentioned to her. The one who'd arrived while Raven was passed out, recovering. She knew it was her, for who else had green eyes like that, save the few impoverished demons living their miserable existences serving demonic aristocrats. She was no demon (at least, not entirely, and there were no other half-demons in Hell apart from Raven...and this woman).

Stepping closer so that she too faced her father besides the woman, Raven saw that she was not a woman at all, but a girl. A teenager. Not a wizened warrior but a child no older than her brother Adyn- who himself was an adolescent in demonic years.

Her eyes didn't dare look at Raven, though she felt the Al Ghul's posture lax ever so slightly. Raven didn't open her senses to the girl- there was no way she could control her powers dealing with the trauma this girl must have faced.

Trigon glowered at them, Ephron at his side. "Child, you will face Sahara Al Ghul in combat.", Ephron sneered on his father's behalf, "Magical and physical. Hold back and we shall see how you like the taste of my new blade.", he spun a dagger in his left hand, the side of his forearm and the colour of decay- greyish green and sharp as the stench of death.

Raven was used to this routine. Face the opponent. Fight for all you are worth. Death is a mercy you won't receive. And all because her father was bored. The little demoness- half the height of the Al Ghul- turned to face her, with something akin to apology in her eyes, and leaped forwards, withdrawing a concealed blade the size of her hand.

Sahara stepped backwards, but Raven was hot on her heels, pressing forwards in slashes of silver, her free hand glowing an unstable blackish purple. The fighter's instinct of an Al Ghul kicked in, no matter how wrong this was, how hellish the Hell, how much that little Raven resembled... Sahara had to fight.

When it was over and blood spattered the floor, when Trigon got bored, the two were ordered away and to their quarters. The Al Ghul girl followed Raven. The lightless corridors led to a square room with a metal door and no window. In the middle of the 3 by 3 metres room was a single, low bed with white sheets. Raven climbed on the bed, her feet dangling over the sides. The older girl slumped on to the bed besides her, bloodied tunics staining the sheets.

Sahara looked at the child, small face scrunched up in pain, bruises forming on her visible pale skin. "How old are you?", she asked.

Raven took a second to process the question. The girl spoke English, but with an accent from Raven knew not where- not at all like her mother's. The information sat in Raven's mind -(that modern human language of her mother) Raven trialled the words on her tongue, speaking with a hoarse voice not used to talking.

"I...", she coughed, "I am five...I think...I'm maybe six...I don't know...", she mumbled the last, her voice cracking from lack of use.

They sat in silence. Sahara looked about the room. She saw a bucket of water in the corner besides a pile of cloth. This little demon girl was used to patching herself up. With aching limbs, Sahara lifted herself from the bed and stumbled over to the pail and rags, picking both up and bringing them over to the child.