Page 25 of Kingdom of Rot & Ruin
I put a hand to her lips, silencing her.
Without another word, I opened the closet door and left, leaving her standing in the closet with my seed dripping down her thighs.
I squashed down any feelings of tenderness or regret, refusing to become one of those love-sick poets whose pathetic diatribes lined the archives. This was an experiment and an experience, and nothing more.
Chapter
Seven
Ihad a bucket of water in my hands, the final tool I needed if I was ever going to attempt my first ritual. Flying down the stone steps and breezing through the damp corridor, I stopped short in front of my chosen ritual room.
The door handle was gone, violently ripped away. I spotted it lying on the ground a few feet away.
What in the world?
I pushed open the door, poking my head inside.
The chamber wasn’t empty.
A woman, crying, was curled up in a ball in the room’s corner. Standing over her was a man, or something that was at least man-shaped. At my approach, it whirled around, startling me so badly I jumped and scrambled backward.
Man-shaped, indeed.
Whatever it was, it had ashy, gray skin that flaked to the ground as its tattered robes rubbed against its skin. Its clothes looked of fine quality, just torn and ripped. Had thisthingonce been a Noble?
Its eyes were yellow with black pupils, spittle flyingfrom its mouth as it raised two hands with sharp, black claws at me.
What thefuck?
The woman whimpered again, her face streaked with tears and smeared cosmetics. Her dress was as dingy as his robe, her hair a tangled mess of dark curls.
A mud girl.
The woman looked at me hopefully, as if I were her savior.
But I was not the hero type.
It lunged, and I panicked. It was her or me, and I chose me!
You can’t even close the door, you idiot. You’ll both die.
The demon thing was faster than me anyway, so charitable thoughts or not, it didn’t matter. Claws caught my ankle and dug into my flesh. I grunted in agony, not having felt pain like that in my entire life. We both hit the stone floor hard, my forehead smacking against the ground and stunning me.
This was it. This was how it ended: dying alone and under mysterious circumstances, with no one to hear my cries for help or hear my last breaths except for a snot-nosed mud girl. Her front-row seat to my final moments wasn’t a comforting thought.
I tried to use my arms and crawl away, but its stupid claws were dug into the tendons of my ankle, making every movement excruciating. The demon reared back for the death blow.
I closed my eyes.
The demon made an odd ‘whump’ noise, and with a final white-hot tug of agony, released the claw from my leg. Instinctively, I tucked my leg up under me and tried to scramble away—right underneath the legs of the Fireguard who’d just stuck a giant spear through the demon’s chest.
I dragged my body across the threshold of the room, trailing blood behind me. Two more Fireguards leaped over my body to join their colleague. Their faces were steady, arms not shaking as they used their spears to dispatch the creature. They weren’t shocked at all, but I couldn’t unhear the wet, guttural sounds of thatthingtaking its final death rattles as they killed it.
The girl cried noisily. At least the Fireguards would see to her, and I could see to myself.
Females confounded me.
“You, scribe. Are you all right?” A Fireguard bent down, frowning at the wound on my leg.
