KGWrites

Throne Room, Falcon’s Nest Palace, Fallen Kingdom of Aldiron

They stood together in the centre of the throne room, at the foot of the dais bearing the throne of Aldiron. The Demon’s Council.

Lord Spyder Xeros, the Lord of the City Militia. Grand Marshall Martyn Hills, the treacherous commander of the Second Legion. And Captain Darrin Crowe, the Last Sea Lord. And traitor to them all.

The Last Blood Demon sat upon his throne, looking over them all. His corpse-like skin was gaunt, and pale and his long white hair was loose and twisted about his head. His black iron crown was atop his brow and the marbled throne beneath him was blackened and burned, as if some inferno had raged from within him and scorched the very stone around him.

In his hands, he clutched a wrapped package, open so that only he could see the contents.

Besides them, the throne room was empty. Dead. A husk of the former glory that had once held sway here. Silence, like a graveyard at midnight, hung over them.

“The Princess,” Draconeus began, his cruel voice echoing across the chamber, even as he spoke with a softness that put Darrin in mind of a serpent preparing to strike. “Has sent us a message.”

Without any further explanation, Draconeus upended the contents of the package, causing the two items within to drop to the ground and roll down the steps of the throne to the feet of the council.

The first was a green banner, torn and ragged but clearly bearing a silver falcon upon its field. The bird dived across the dark fabric in a striking stoop. Pierced carefully though the fabric was a single long feather. It was bright orange, so bright it almost glowed like flame. A phoenix tail feather.

But the second item from the princess’ message was what truly caught the council’s attention. Landing with a heavy, wet thud and rolling to stare up at them from the foot of the dais, was a severed head.

The skin was lumpy, and its yellow skin was stained with deep brown blood. Its pale eyes stared out blankly from the pits of their sockets.

Darrin had to fight to keep his expression neutral. Somehow, they’d done it. They’d killed the Shapechanger Demon.

The gathered council exchanged glances that told Darrin that both Spyder and Hills were as amazed and horrified as he was by the head’s presence. And the unspoken message that came with it.

What else have you got?

“She has killed one of my greatest servants. And oldest friends.” Draconeus continued, his voice clear with a cold anger. “And she sees fit now to threaten us. To declare herself openly as our enemy.”

He leaned forwards and the shadows grew about him as his dead pale eyes took on a scarlet red glow.

“No longer is this about rebuilding our power and pacifying the city. The Princess seems to believe we are still at war. And we sit at the heart of her kingdom.”

The creak of a door opening somewhere behind the throne echoed across the room, followed by heavy, deliberate footsteps. Footsteps accompanied by an odd slithering sound that clacked and rattled.

“She sees fit to kill my people and display their bodies before me as a threat. And so, I see no reason not to respond in kind.” Draconeus said as the footsteps grew louder.

“And seeing as you all have failed to defeat the rebellion in my city, and it only grows stronger. I believe that a new weapon should be put to the field. One that has already proven itself effective against them and that I have seen greatly improved.” Draconeus completed as a figure rounded the back of the throne and stepped into the light.

Fear, like a shard of ice, drove deep into Darrin’s heart.

The monster before them was not human, not anymore. And yet it wore a human face. One with a charming, disarming smile.

The deep pits between the raised burn scars that ran the length of his left arm were now tattooed to a deep cyan blue that began to glow as he summoned a magical light into his left hand, illuminating the rest of him.

The burn scarring that coated the left side of his face was twisted into a sick gleeful grin and his left eye burned with a bright cyan blue. He wore black armour that left his arms bare, revealing the full extent of his scars and new magical enhancements.

But worst of all was his right arm, if it could even still be called an arm.

What could once have been his arm ended in a rough stump just below his elbow. Extending from that stump and down to the floor, before stretching off a ways behind him, was a long whip of spiked bone. Twisted hooks and spikes lined its length and the whole thing shifted and moved like a restless serpent. The tips, each ending in a six-inch spike, curled and flexed, like fingers on a hand.

He examined them all a moment, his eyes lingering with curiosity on Darrin, before bowing his head towards Draconeus on the throne.

“Do not worry my Lord.” Aaron Trident grinned. “I’ll see our response to the Princess is swift and decisive.

And as Trident laughed, Darrin felt as the whole world suddenly shifted into darkness.