Again, he points at the ancient book, the chains around his wrists clanking softly. With little other option, I reach for the book with trembling fingers and pull it into my lap. Dust billows into the air as I crack it open to reveal frayed pages colored the hue of dying grass. There’s just enough light to make out the letters scrawled in jagged, swooping lines across the papyrus—similar to the notes in Kaebl’s library.
Strangely, underneath each line, the words have been transcribed into English in crisp black ink, leaving me to believe it was translated by hand just for me.
I bring the book closer to my face, my eyes skimming over the words greedily, a chill running down my spine with each page I turn.
The story written there speaks of a great demon war—a time of dissonance—those that believed halflings deserve the right to live, and those that thought they ought to be snuffed out for their potential abuse of power. I read about Abaddon, the greatest demon lord of The Far Place, and all his loyal followers. How he wanted to save the halflings, and though he was cruel, he was not pure evil like many of his opposers tried to make him out to be.
A frown forms between my brows as I read the last part, and I raise my head to look at Fenryr. “I thought Abaddon was the one who wanted to kill the halflings?”
Fenryr shakes his head, gesturing once more to the book and telling me to read. With a sigh, I return to the worn pages, my confusion mounting as I continue the darktale. Contrary to what M had told me, it seems that Abaddon was one of the only demons fighting for the rights of the halflings. Because of this, the Slaine kingdom secretly planned to rise up against him. To rid the land of his influence once and for all.
And so, during a great feast, the cups of Abbadon’s house were poisoned with a powerful sleeping agent. In the night, the Slaine forces infiltrated, ruthlessly murdering the Abbadonians while they slept. The chaos was enough to wake Lord Abaddon, who rose to the sight of his castle bathed in blood, covered in the corpses of all his friends and staff. With a bellowing roar, the demon spread his great white wings and soared into the night, using every last bit of his strength to fight the opposing forces.
Eventually, Abbadon was overwhelmed, and the demon lord fell to the ground, battered and bloodied. Lacking the power to kill him, they wrapped his body in magical golden wire and sundered the great demon lord into six even pieces. They carved his heart from his chest last, only to leave the still-beating organ on the frozen ground next to the body. With the blood of the fallen lord coating their hands, Slaine’s forces rejoiced. They left the desecrated corpse in the center of the battlefield so all who passed through would know of their victory. And then…
I flip through the rest of the book, frantically searching for the remaining story. But the last of the pages have been torn from the spine, leaving me with only remnants of the truth.
“What is this?” I demand, raising my head to glare at Fenryr. “Where’s the rest of the story?”
Instead of an answer, I’m met with a familiar voice, slinking through the air and over my skin like warmedhoney, warming my blood and unsettling my bones all at once.
“Hello, Wildfire.”
My body jerks in response to the rumbling tone, causing the book to slip from my hands and fall to the floor with a bang. An all-too-familiar laugh pierces the air, sending a shiver down my spine and letting me know exactly who I’m speaking to.
“M.”
“I’m glad you’re awake,” he says, his tone cloyingly sweet. “I was gettingsobored.”
M’s pace slows, his claws scraping against the stone as he materializes from the shadows. The faint glow from his eye casts eerie shadows along the planes of his face, making his features much sharper than I remember them. More menacing.
Adding to that, M's chest and forearms are coated in a wine-colored substance which looks disturbingly like blood.Kaebl’s blood.
The memories of my last waking moments come swarming in, and I pitch to the side in a dry heave. The image of M ripping into Kaebl’s chest replays on a loop in my mind, and when I breathe in, it’s like I’m still there on the ground, helpless to do anything but watch as his body falls from the sky. I shudder, recalling the sound his bones made when he connected with the ground. Thecrunch.
“That was my favorite part,” M whispers. “Truly poetic.”
There are so many questions I want to ask, but only one pushes forward, demanding to be answered. “Why?”Why am I down here? Why do you have Fenryr? Why did you lie to me? Why did you betray me? Betray the others? Why, why, why?
“Do you still not know?” he asks, voice filledwith sugar despite the malicious glint in his eye. “I suppose I can’t blame you. You only had half of the information.” M’s smile widens, his glowing red eye blinking lazily in the shadows. “Luckily, I possess all the answers.”
I clench my jaw, refusing to reach for them, to play into his hand. “Does it even matter anymore?”
M just smiles. “Oh, it matters agreat deal, sweet Dagny. There’s still so much to our story. So many more chapters to be written.” His eye glows molten as he pulls my hand to his mouth, pressing his lips to the pulse point on the inside of my wrist. “And you’re the key to all of it.”
I shake my head, my mind swimming. “I don’t understand,” I whisper. “I don’t understand anything you’re saying…”
Canines lengthening, he crouches before me, slowly raising a clawed hand to my chest. His index finger prods the space just above my rapidly beating heart, a low, menacing chuckle shaking the air around us. “In order for me to explain fully, I’m going to need to tell you a story. Thetruestory—what really happened after Abaddon was sundered.”
“I already read what happened. The book said?—”
“Thebookonly tells a portion of the story,” he interrupts, gesturing to the ancient tome I was reading before he came in. “A fractured tale with an incomplete ending, all in Slaine’s favor. It’s because that’s how Slaine would like everyone to remember the sundering. As a success.”
“Wasn’t it? Abaddon isn’t here. I'd say he was pretty damn successful.”
M dips his chin, his mouth widening into an eerie, all-knowing grin. “Don't you think it’s odd there’s no mention of Kaebl and the other pieces? No mention ofme?”
“Maybe he didn’t think it was important,” I grumble,growing tired of humoring the red-eyed demon. “Maybe he thought you weren’t worth the trouble of writing about.”