Page 8 of Demon's Prey

The heavy oak door slams shut, and I'm finally alone. I lean back in my chair, closing my eyes as the throbbing in my temples intensifies. Managing this forsaken fief is draining me of my life force.

It almost makes me wish I was still locked in a jail cell. My behavior had been against the rules, but so entertaining the demon council ultimately decided no punitive measure were in order at all. Of course, all this tedious paperwork is punishment enough. Perhaps they knew that.

Scrolls and ledgers litter my desk, their contents a mind-numbing blur of crop yields, ration distributions, and petty quarrels between the lowly demons under my rule. I rake my fingers through my hair, the silver strands falling haphazardly over my brow.

"Why in the seven hells did I ever agree to this?"

When I first inherited this land from my father, I had visions of glory—leading mighty armies, slaying fearsome beasts, discovering ancient ruins. Not...this. Not overseeing stores of rotting grain and negotiating trade routes with grotesque orcs.

My crimson gaze falls upon the ceremonial blade mounted on the wall, a relic from an era when my kind was respected...feared, even. I was born for conquest, not bureaucracy. Yet here I am, a glorified bookkeeper, shackled to these dismal halls.

A familiar restlessness stirs within me, that insatiable hunger for adventure and freedom that so often lands me in trouble with the elders. My pointed tail lashes back and forth, betraying my growing agitation.

I need to escape, if only for a short while. Somewhere the stifling rules and duties of my birthright cannot follow. Somewhere...unexpected.

The human realm has always fascinated me, those fragile, emotional creatures. I've heard tales of their bizarre customs, their vibrant cultures, their fleeting lives burning with such intensity. Perhaps there lies my salvation from this mind-numbing tedium.

A devilish grin plays across my lips as I rise from my chair, the decision made. Locating a portal to the human plane will be a challenge, one sure to draw the ire of my family. But I relish the defiance, the thrill of rebellion.

Let them seethe with outrage. Their noble son will return from his sojourn when he's goddamn well ready.

With a renewed sense of purpose, I stride from my study, the thick carpets muffling my steps. The dank corridors stretch endlessly, suffocating me with their oppressive weight. But not for much longer.

"Lord Dazirus!" A reedy voice shatters the silence behind me. I turn to find Kravitz, one of my more useless attendants, scurrying towards me with parchment in hand. "You must sign this land deed before departing."

His insistence grates on my already frayed nerves. I snatch the document from his grasp, glaring at the faded text. "And if I refuse?"

Kravitz fidgets nervously. "The elders strictly require your blood seal, my lord. It cannot be avoided."

My lip curls in contempt. Rules, always rules. I've half a mind to incinerate the damned parchment out of sheer spite.

Instead, I grab Kravitz by the throat, his eyes widening in terror as I slam him against the wall. With my free hand, I draw a wicked dagger from my belt, the razor edge glinting hungrily.

"If it's blood they want..." I trail off, dragging the blade across Kravitz's cheek. A thin line of crimson blossoms, and he whimpers pathetically.

Releasing my grip, I let the sniveling fool crumple to the floor. Kravitz clutches his face as I press my bleeding palm to the deed, searing the contract with my essence.

"There," I growl, tossing the signed parchment at his feet. "Tell the elders their demands have been met, as always."

Leaving Kravitz to nurse his wound, I continue down the torch-lit passage, each step carrying me closer to my goal. The stables lie just ahead, and with them, my chance at freedom from this wretched existence.

I can already smell the musky odor of the beasts, sense their restless energy mirroring my own. No more will I be caged, a gilded prisoner to the whims of others. This hunt is mine to pursue, whatever the cost.

My blood boils with delicious defiance as I approach the stable doors. Let the sniveling attendants whisper all they want - none dare challenge me directly. I am Dazirus Kal'Vareth, and the realms shall bend before my will.

The chilly night air bites at my exposed skin as I stride from the mansion, my shoulder-length silver hair dancing in the frigid wind. With a deft motion, I swing myself atop my obsidian-black steed, its glowing crimson eyes regarding me with a hint of impatience.

"Easy, Carnifex," I murmur, running my claws through its coarse mane. "The hunt begins tonight."

I dig my heels into the beast's flanks, and it launches forward with a mighty snort. The frozen tundra of Glacies blurs past as we race across the icy terrain, kicking up flurries of snow in our wake. I tilt my head back, allowing the biting gale to wash over my face as I revel in the exhilarating speed.

"This is better," I mutter to myself with a grin, the tension from hours of bureaucratic drudgery melting away with every thunderous stride of my mount.

We weave through the twisted, skeletal trees of the Blynnfaust Forest, their gnarled branches grasping at me like bony fingers. That's when something catches my eye—a crumpled form lying motionless at the base of a glowing crimson tree.

I pull hard on Carnifex's reins, and the demon steed rears back with a shrill whinny before skidding to a halt. My heart stutters in my chest as I stare at the unmoving figure. A human? Here, and alone?

I slide from the saddle and approach with cautious steps, my eyes roving over the woman's prone body. She's wounded, grievously so by the looks of the blood pooling beneath her in the snow. Each shallow rise and fall of her chest is fainter than the last.

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