Page 98 of Unbinding the Demon
Azathoth reached over the edge and dragged my limp body out of the water, with his wing outstretched to hide me. “Alright, let’s quickly get you dressed.”
“Who the fuck is that guy, and what the hell was all that fighting about?” I asked in annoyance, as he grabbed the bag and pulled out a secret spare pair of panties I didn’t know we had with us. “And you didn’t tell me I had a spare pair of panties!” My angry eyes narrowed at him.
“His name is Valarendrik. He’s the rogue, runaway prince of the abyssal kingdom, Tenveriel, and a good friend of mine. That little scuffle was just us fucking around.” He shoved a clean black dress over my head, then helped me get the panties on since my legs were still as useless as wilted celery sticks. “And no, I didn’t tell you. I was enjoying the easy access to your sweet little cunt too much.” He pulled his pants on, then pulled me against his chest while giving Prince Vala-whoeverthefuck the okay to turn back around.
Azathoth wrapped a wing around me, making it so only my head was visible to the undead prince. I gripped his arm with both of my hands, digging my fingernails into his skin. Valarendrik spun around on one heel, his long, black, unkempt hair sweeping behind him like a cape of shadows. His strange boots made no sound as he walked through the wisping fog with calculated steps. A black mist swirled within his ribcage, coiling like snakes within the crevices between his exposed bones.
His head leaned in uncomfortably close to my face and tilted side to side with curiosity, like a bird inspecting something shiny to peck. He had a sharp, attractive visage and would have been exceptionally handsome if he were human and, well, more alive-looking, I suppose. The peculiar eyes that analytically stared into mine had rings of deep crimson forming the irises. What was really odd, though, was that the whites of his eyes weren’t white at all. They were pitch-black, almost void-like. My gaze drifted from his unsettling eyes and up to the twitchingcrown of seven symmetrical spikes coming out of the band on his forehead. It looked as if it was comprised of the clawed metacarpals and phalanges from some poor unfortunate soul’s severed fingers. The bones wiggled inquisitively like sentient antennae, with soft skeletal clicking noises.
Okay... This guy is really fucking freaky.
I widened my eyes as he lifted a clawed hand with exposed bone along his tattered knuckles, looking as though the flesh had been smashed off long ago. Like Azathoth’s claws, his were also black. However, they looked more like dingy, thick fingernails that had grown into points. Unlike Azathoth’s sharp, glossy talons. As he reached out to touch my face, a low warning growl rumbled out of Azathoth’s chest. He retracted his hand slowly and took a graceful step back while saying something in a deep yet smooth voice.
Azathoth shook his head while saying something back to him and pointing at me. The only word I could understand was“human,”making it obvious that he was inquiring about what species I was.
“So, um, why is he staring at me like that?” I asked, feeling a knot in my stomach while leaning further back into Azathoth’s embrace. I trusted Azathoth wouldn’t let anyone bad near me, but this guy’s undead appearance and strange behavior was giving me the creeps.
“Well, not only are you an absolute alien freak to him, but your eye and hair color are completely blowing his mind right now.” He playfully twirled a lock of my hair. “The only colors that exist here are grey, black, and very few shades of red, purple, and umber. So, he’s never seen green or chestnut brown before. There’s nothing luminescent here, either. In fact, you should have seen him the first time he saw my face... It was borderline erotic.” He chuckled, then said something to Valarendrik.
Valarendrik nodded, then seemed to ask a question. But it was hard to tell, considering I didn’t know a single word of the language.
“Gwendolyn,” Azathoth replied.
“Gwendolyn,” he repeated with an unsettling smile, revealing a mouth full of sharp, pointed teeth and fangs. Then he politely bowed to me.
I raised my hand in a hesitant attempt to wave. “Hello, uh, Valarendrik.” His smile came back, showing off even more of his pointy teeth in what I guessed was a friendly expression.
They continued to chit-chat for a few minutes while I remained shyly tucked behind Azathoth’s large wing. I felt like an awkward, nervous turtle hiding within the safety of its cozy shell. Overwhelmed by fatigue, I zoned out and watched the bubbles rise and pop in the tar-like lake. Many large trees grew throughout the lake, but it was hard to see them through the haze. Valarendrik made an eerie whistling noise, which resounded through the air, startling me nearly to death.
“What the!?”I jumped in fright, then stilled in fear,shifting my gaze to the far end of the beach.
A ghastly whinny called back to him, and then the sound of heavy approaching hooves crunched over the gravel. The noise sent a dreadful shiver up my spine. Out from the veil of mist emerged an enormous undead stallion. Its coat was as black as starless midnight, with a long snarled mane that mournfully draped like the wisping shadow of an eidolon. Tattered flesh revealed bones on its legs, sides, and up along half of its face. Three milky, deathlike eyes rested on either side of its head, giving it six in total. The frayed bridle rattled eerily, and the sinister-looking saddle clanked. The cadaverous horse’s large black hooves came to a steady halt, sinking into the pebbly beach.
I peeked over at the ghostly steed with a pale, fear-stricken face. It snorted and stomped its front hoof as Valarendrik took the reins in his hand. He gently guided it over and had it nestle down in front of us. Its milky eyes stared at me with curiosity as it made a gentle nicker.
Yikes...
“This is Sagacor, Valarendrik’s horse.” Azathoth gestured at it with a grin. Valarendrik sat down with his back resting against its side, bending one knee up. “We’re going to rest here and catch up for a little while.”
He took a few steps over to the large root and sat down with his back against it. I rested with my head on his chest and our legs intertwined. Both of his wings wrapped around my body like a snug yet protective blanket. I ran my fingertips over their black, leathery surface. It was amazing just how soft they felt, considering how strong they were. They were like the smoothest leather, almost velvety.
I indulged in a soft yawn and a delicate sigh of weariness. “Maybe I should practice the unbinding incantation while we rest,” I mentioned. Azathoth informed me I was going to have to perform it in the same location where the magic had previously been awakened. So we had to wait until we were back on Earth and in the library to do it. Luckily, that gave me some extra time to practice pronouncing everything correctly.
He smiled down at me, his expression filled with love, and he caressed my temple. “I’m thrilled you want to practice it, but you seem exhausted. You really should rest for now.”
Another sleepy yawn escaped me. “Yeah, I guess so.” My eyes drifted over to Valarendrik, who was sharpening one of his odd-looking swords. “Why is he a runaway prince, anyway?”
Azathoth gazed over at him. “Well, I was kind of the one who convinced him to abandon the throne.” He chuckled. “Tenverians are extremely sick and savage, cannibalistic creatures by nature, but he’s an exception. He despises the cruel and disgusting ways of his people, and as the prince, he suffered much opprobrium for it.”
I furrowed my brows. “So, if he abandoned his title as prince, then why does he still wear that weird crown thing?”
“Oh, believe me, nothing would bring him greater joy than to take that disgusting thing off. But he can’t. It was transfixed deep into the front of his skull against his will and became one with him.” He tapped his chin. “I’ll just give you a very quick summary of his story.” He sucked in a breath.
“Once every eighteen years, there’s this blood moon that dips beneath the clouds and rises over the Eastern abyssal sea. The kingdom of Tenveriel was built next to that very same sea. When the blood moon arises, so does an ancient sea serpent named Malsanguis, and to appease it, they offer a sacrifice. The first child born after the moon sets is chosen as the next offering. Unfortunately, the true crown prince, Valarendrik’s older brother, was born right after a blood moon. He was close with his brother, and it traumatized him to watch his mother, the queen and high priestess, callously cut him open, remove his organs, then stuff him full of sea creatures, and send him off in a little boat to be devoured by the serpent. As royal tradition, they cut off his brother’s hands before sacrificing him and forged Valarendrik’s crown with his finger bones.”
“What the fuck!? So those are actually his brother’s finger bones on his head!?”
“Yes, and he loathes it. But that’s what makes him such an anomaly. Unlike normal Tenverians, he feels empathy and sorrow. He could see that their ways were totally fucked up. He was actually about to kill himself when we first met, but I convinced him to say‘fuck it’and become a wandering nomad like I was.”
