Arya gazed into the mirror, loathing with every fiber of her being what she saw there. At first glance, it was a beautiful young woman, skin fair and smooth, with dark, soft hair tumbling down about her shoulders. The lines of her face, and indeed, her entire body, were graceful and elegant, a perfect specimen of feminine beauty. What upset Arya was her eyes. They were a deep, unnatural red, almost the color of fire. She had been to every witch in the kingdom, but none of them could change it, or even hide it. The mark of a demon, it seemed, could not be hidden.
She sighed and turned away from the mirror, wrapping her cloak around her. Going out was always an ordeal; her eyes told people exactly what she was, and most of them tried to avoid her like the plague. The merchants overcharged her, since they wouldn’t tolerate her presence long enough for the usual haggling.
The door swung open easily at her touch, and she stepped out onto the street. She kept her eyes downcast and her cloak pulled close around her, trying to hide her face. Sometimes, though, she had to look up. You couldn’t deal with a vendor without looking at him. When she did so, she saw, floating above their head, their true name… and how and when they would die.
That was the ‘gift’ the demon had given her. It was more like a curse. She hadn’t asked for it, hadn’t wanted it. He had forced it upon her. His only explanation had been, “Ask your father.”
Her father was dead. Gone off to war, almost five years ago now, though it had only been one year when the demon had come to her. As though thinking of him summoned him, Arya saw the tall, hooded figure approaching her across the marketplace. She tried not to react to it; as the only one who could see him, it made her look crazy or possessed when she talked to him. Finishing the sale she was in the middle of, she picked up her groceries and walked out of the market, quickly, but trying to act casual.
When she rounded a corner, she set the groceries down, turned, and glared at the demon. “What do you want?”
“Why do you always assume I want something from you?” The demon bared its large teeth in an unconvincing innocent grin. “Maybe I just enjoy your company.”
“And maybe you just enjoy making the entire village hate me. What do you want?”
“You wound me, Arya. But as it happens, there is a little something you can do for me.”
“Of course.” Arya sighed. “What is it this time? Arson? Theft?”
She gasped and took a step back. “Never.”
“You cannot refuse me, Arya. You never could. You never will.”
Arya closed her eyes, turning away from him and pressing into the wall, as though she could make the demon go away by refusing to acknowledge his presence. “Leave me alone.”
A clawed hand grabbed her shoulder, almost painful in its powerful grip, but then she heard the demon gasp and release her. She slowly looked up; nothing had that effect on him.
“Back off, demon.” A man in a white cloak stood a few feet away, his eyes a bright gold, as alien as her red ones. Behind him, there was a magnificent being, shining, with wings that must have been twenty feet from tip to tip.
The demon hissed, slowly moving away. The angel strode forward, a sword of pure light forming in his hand.
What happened next was too fast for mortal eyes to follow, but it ended with the demon howling in pain as he shattered into wisps of smoke.
Arya stared in disbelief. She felt free. The demon was destroyed. She looked up at the man to thank him.. and saw his name and his death spelled out over his head. She still had the eyes. She was still cursed.
She muttered a thank you, ignored his offers of help, scooped up her groceries, and went home. Odds were, another demon would claim her. Being cursed, she had no hope. She looked in the mirror again, cursing her demon eyes.
Tag Archives: Demon
Another cool old story beginning I found.
The man strode down the road, his long, confident stride covering the ground quickly, as he moved single-mindedly towards his destination. He moved without fear, for his six and a half foot frame and the hand-and-a-half sword strapped to his back deterred even the most determined of thieves. Reaching his destination, one of the more reputable bars known as the Red Lion, the fair-skinned man paused a moment before entering.
As he entered, he felt a brief wave of disgust pass through him, although no one watching him would have known that from his expression. Briefly scanning the smoky interior, he found the one he sought and strode directly to his table. The man, remarkable from his fellows by his broad chest and shoulders and the fact that he was only partially drunk, spotted the tall figure and beckoned him over. “Ho, Tsumar!” he bellowed. “Come, drink!”
Tsumar’s face remained expressionless. “You know that I do not drink, Brundor. What news do you have?”
“Big news, Tsumar,” the big man said, his face taking an expression of seriousness that was almost comical on his broad face. “Rumors of a high-class demon, most likely a pit fiend.”
A brief flash of emotion from Tsumar, an almost imperceptible quickening of speech. “Where? When?”
“Up north, by Brunswick.”
Tsumar stood up abruptly, flipping the surprised Brundor a gold coin, almost twice the standard fee. “Thank you for you services, Brundor. If this demon truly is a pit fiend, then I might have no more need of your assistance.”
Exiting the bar, leaving a rather bemused Brundor behind him, he strode straight out of the city gates into the forest. He gave a sharp whistle, followed by a long low one, and within seconds a powerful, masculine unicorn came trotting out of the woods. “To Brunswick!” he said, springing lightly onto its back, “My vengeance is close at hand!”
“You have learned the location of Da’seth?” inquired the unicorn, looking over its shoulder as it began galloping towards Brunswick.
“Perhaps,” replied Tsumar. “I certainly know the location of a pit fiend. Even if he is not Da’seth, he will know where I can find him.”
There’s also a pseudodragon shapeshifter chick named Gypsy, who I wrote about but evidently did not save. She’s cool. So is Tsumar. Possibly more on them later.
An assignment for my English class: create a monster.
He had been an angel, once; a being of Truth, and Light. Then Darkness came. Darkness took him, and his brethren. Took them and twisted them, corrupting them beyond recognition. Once he had been the brightest angel in creation; now he is a demon as evil as Darkness itself. Fallen, he took to his new station with as much zeal as he had to his previous one. He is Vetis, the Demon Lord of Corruption and Manipulation.
From dwelling in Light, he fell into the underworld. The Abyss. He is second in power only to the Prince of Darkness, and far surpasses him in sadism and cunning. He spends his time torturing those unlucky enough to fall into the Abyss after their death. Usually, they deserve it. If they don’t, he doesn’t care. The just and the unjust alike can sustain him. Their agony, their sorrow, that is his sustenance.
His human form can appear as anything. He is a shape-shifter, indefinable. He looks into your mind and appears as whatever he needs to appear as to accomplish his goals. Seduction, corruption, deceit, bribery, intimidation… One being, many faces. His true form, his demonic form, is a monstrous being, wreathed in fire. He has the face of death, and his armor carries the imprint of the damned souls he has tortured.