Page 3 of Her Demon Daddy

I have yet to tell anyone that is exactly what will happen.

Finally, the ground stops trembling, and my stomach churns as I feel the building lurch beneath me. It has been resettling with every shift of the planet, and I’m not sure how much longer my home will remain in one piece.

I stare at the altar before me. There’s a table upon the raised dias, lit candles scattered around an onyx bowl filled with water. All the thick, black curtains are drawn so that the only light comes from the flames and where they reflect off the water.

Mounted to the wall above the altar is the same symbol tied around my neck: an obsidian tree, bare branches and exposed roots. The sign of Oltyx, the god of the earth.

I don’t know if he made this island specifically for us or if he just showed me the pathway, but either way, he brought me here. And now, he seems to no longer be feeling so generous.

“I don’t know what to do!” I shout out as I hit my knees.

Praying doesn’t work. Nor does my magic or the combined power of all my soz’garoth demons, who should be the best magic-wielders on the island.

I haven’t missed a single sacrifice, and yet the island’s place in the sky is tumultuous at the best. And my hold on my people has been diminishing with its power…

Out of the two, I’m more willing to let us crash into the ground planet below than to let my power over the other demons slip. Hence, the tremors. I’ve been pouring everything I can to maintain our society – though that isn’t to say I haven’t been trying with the island. I’m just at a loss.

A part of me wonders if that is Oltyx’s goal. Crashing into Protheka will only lead to another war, forcing us to fight for our own section of the planet. Something tells me that would entertain the god more than us occasionally tormenting a village in search of elves and humans to do our bidding – well,hisbidding.

I stay there on my knees, my thoughts whirling as I stare up at the tree that I once saw as my salvation. Now I see it for what it is – a threat. A promise with consequences I’m not ready to reap.

Finally, I draw myself back onto my feet.

“I don’t know why I bother,” I mutter as I climb the steps to the altar and blow out the candles. The water ripples, and I half expect another tremor to run through the island at my defiance.

But, like for the last fifty-five years, I’m being ignored.

Going to the curtains, I peel them back from the windows and let in the dim light. When we first came to Galmoleth, I thought the storm was a random occurrence, but then it never went away. We’ve been shrouded in the clouds ever since.

Through the windows, I take in the sprawling city. Demons roam the streets, and as I watch them move about, I’m struck with how terrible a war would be. Our numbers are still so few – even less so with the limited matrons. We would face annihilation on Protheka due to their numbers.

And yet, it’s a possibility I am considering.

But I fear what will happen if we go into battle. Will it dredge up memories of home for them? Will they start to remember the wars there, the ravaged planet we were forced to leave? It’s a risk I shouldn’t take, but I’m starting to run out of options.

If I don’t do something, this is all going to fall apart, and I can’t have that. Without Galmoleth, I am nothing. There is no future for me without this island, my power, and my people – which are all dependent on each other.

My hold is slipping and I know that it will cost me all of it.

Irritated from my lack of progress, I go to gather my robes, pulling my hood over my face. The time I’ve spent in here was anything but peaceful, and I’m leaving more tense than when I entered. And with no plan.

I burst through the doors that lead into the main castle, and the few servants nearby scurry out of my path. I’m used to that, prefer it actually, and right now I think they can feel the rage rolling off of me.

Too soon, I see one of my advisors coming down the hallway, and I huff as I try to pass him by. Sezruk falls into step beside me, and I stifle a sigh. Unfortunately, it comes out as a harsh growl.

“That was the third one this week, sir,” he tells me as if I haven’t been counting them myself.

I grit my teeth. “I’m aware.”

“It’s causing unrest. People are talking–”

“Let them talk!”

In truth, that’s the last thing I want. Questions are already starting to filter in – questions I do not have the answer to. But I can’t show that panic now, and I would rather my wrath silence them than allow the speculation to start.

The Seven only knows what that will lead to.

“Sir,” Sezruk presses, though more timidly this time. “I believe that this is an issue worthy of more consideration–”

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