Parting Ways

 

Freedom. Freedom never tasted so sweet. With the Blood Oath fulfilled, it feels like a weight has been lifted off my chest. I’m no longer marked by the Demon Lord, no longer his to control anymore. I’m not his puppet. No, I’m a ravenous beast just let off its leash. Oh, the havoc I will leave in my wake, but first, there’s something I must do.

My gaze takes in Azrael’s scythe with a certain reverence, and rightly so, as I can feel the raw power emanating from it. It’s almost—intoxicating. I give it a twirl, loving the feel of it in my hands. Remembering the way its blade sliced through Stronghelm’s forcefield like a hot knife through butter, I can’t help but wonder what else it can do. What other secret powers can be unlocked?

“NO,” I exclaim, shaking my head at myself. I quickly set it back down as that gnawing sensation comes back. “You have served me well, but I must return you. I can’t allow this weapon to fall into the wrong hands.” Or at least that’s what I keep telling myself.

### 

The smell of smoke is what hits me first, mingling with the scent of pine. Branches scrape against me as I haphazardly push aside the foliage, staggering towards the smoldering remains of what was once Azrael’s mausoleum. What the hell happened?! I think to myself, my breathing ragged. That niggling sensation stirs at the back of my mind again, clawing its way up even as I try to push it back down.

My legs are shaky as I walk amongst the rumble, taking in the sheer destruction with wide eyes. Little remained apart from the stone framework, and I can still feel the heat radiating off the scorched ground. It, whatever it was, had to have happened quite recently.

I look down at Azrael’s scythe clutched in my arms. What am I supposed to do now? I can’t keep it. It isn’t mine. My stomach rolls. Guilt. I put a name to the emotion as it tightens around my throat, making it hard to breathe. This is all my fault, isn’t it?

I let out a startled yelp, stumbling backwards as the weapon suddenly turns to ashes in my hands. “No no no,” I cry, shaking my head and covering my face in my hands. He knows. He knows I stole from him…

Tears sting my eyes as I watch the smoke curl upwards above the forest canopy. “I-I’m sorry. I had to… You weren’t here… I had to save my people—whatever the cost.”

I just hope it was worth it. 

### 

I’m back at the manor when I suddenly get the feeling that I’m being watched. A chill goes down my spine, as I slowly turn to face the source of it: Obsidian, the Demon Lord’s messenger. My heart sinks, but I hold my ground. He doesn’t own you anymore. You won. I try to remind myself, but it does little to satiate my nerves. Afterall, I did take a significant detour from his original battle plan. Why didn’t the Blood Oath kill me then? That’s something to ponder another time.

“I held my end of the bargain. The Knights of Stronghelm are dead. Now hold your end,” I exclaim, straightening my stance and raising my chin. The corner of Obsidian’s lips quirks upwards at my bravado.

“Indeed, you have in your—own way. But a deal’s a deal. Now, the Darkling can accom—"  

“NO,” I cut him off, grimacing at my brazenness. “No. I’m done being a pawn in the Demon Lord’s games. Tell him to call off his little demons because Drackeld will be mine, and I plan on conquering it my way.”

The wicked grin that spreads across his face makes my stomach twist, but I try my best not to let it show. Fear has no place in front of him, otherwise he will only chew me up and spit me out. “As you wish,” Obsidian finally replies, inclining his head to me. “Until next time.”

His ominous words sent another shiver down my spine, and as I watch his retreating form, I can’t help but think that this is only the beginning.