Page 2 of Soul of a Witch

“It doesn’t matter how many,” I said. “We don’t stop until there are none.”

Turning my back on the encroaching fog, I faced my warriors. Fangs clipped eagerly, the sound of snapping teeth our battle cry. Many of these demons had sharpened their claws, or fit metal spurs on their fingers. Some held massive weapons made of aether, metal, or stone, their blades shimmering in the night.

Looking upon them, with the lights of the High City glowing at their backs, I could see the end of this war.

Whether I would live to see it, I didn’t know. But the end was here.

“Hellions!” My voice roared over the landscape, loud enough to reach even the furthest line of demons. “Some among you have lived as long as I. You’ve seen the world change, you’ve seen wars come and cities fall. But some of you are seeing war for the first time. You’ve seen friends and lovers die, you’ve seen blood fill the streets of our cities.”

They shouted in response, chanting, “Honor the dead! Honor the dead!”

When had I last seen a funeral pyre? When was the last time we’d had enough peace to send the ashes of our kin free to the winds?

As I looked upon them, I saw fear, I saw fury. I didn’t see hope. I saw hundreds of beings bracing themselves to die.

Straightening my shoulders, I said, “Dantalion relies upon us and we will not let it fall! I’ve seen you, fought with you.” I paced along their line, meeting their eyes, touching their shoulders. Making it clear they had a leader who was not afraid. “I’ve seen you tear out the hearts of gods, drenched in the blood of the Eld! I’ve seen your viciousness! Today, we go into battle with the names of those we lost on our lips. Honor the dead! But do not forget the living. Do not forget the lives of those beside you, and those behind you. Honor them!”

Weapons slammed, howls broke out across the ranks. Lifting my hand, I drew the edge of my blade across my palm so the blood ran down my wrist. Many of the warriors followed suit, for no demon wanted to give their enemy the satisfaction of drawing first blood.

“We’ll see the sun rise on their corpses!” I yelled. “These fields will be fed with their blood! For no creature, no God, will take Hell from its true keepers!”

The cacophony of their shouts and howls was deafening, loud enough to drown out the horrendous screams of our enemies. Stretching my wings toward the sky, I watched them come. The white fog reached out long tendrils toward us, and the screaming grew louder. Massive beings stirred in the darkness.

“Death calls!” I yelled. “But today, you will not answer! Today, you fight, and death will feed on your enemies! Hell is ours!” I slammed my blades together with a crack like thunder, beat my wings, and launched into the air. The first tendrils of mist touched my face, cold as ice and bringing with it whispers of agony.

I bared my teeth. Above me, a massive form loomed.

“Death calls,” I murmured. “Death calls.”

I raised my weapons and faced the gods.

The sun beat down, a blood-red yolk floating in a pale gray sky, as I walked among the fields of the dead.

The odor of burned flesh and rot permeated the air. Corpses riddled the landscape as pools of blood seeped into the dirt. Dead gods were scattered across the field, their massive forms melting into lumps of quivering flesh, surrounded by clusters of phosphorescent fungal growths. Dying reapers with ruined wings and broken bodies roared curses at me as I passed.

All around me lay the bodies of my kin. Demons I’d known, fought beside. Demons I’d loved, who wore my metal and jewels in piercings I’d given them with my hands.

One by one, as I found them, I took out the metal they’d given me. The jewelry pierced through my ears, lips, and eyebrows, covered in glittering jewels – I ripped them out. I didn’t feel the pain. Physical pain was nothing in comparison to this.

One wing dragged behind me as I knelt before another body. They’d been gored, but I knew their face. Ryker. They wore my metal pierced through their lip, and I could remember how joyous they’d been when I gave it to them. We’d spent all night in rapture before rising in the morning to fight another day.

If this was what it took to save Hell, perhaps I shouldn’t have saved it.

I closed their wide, glassy eyes. Then choked down the pain, swallowed it whole, let it sit like a knot of agony in my chest. I wouldn’t stop until I’d seen them all. Every single one. I would not allow even one of my warriors to go unwitnessed into the Void Beyond.

Through the lingering smoke, I could see the High City. Its spires and glittering towers of onyx and emerald pierced the sky like a beast’s teeth. Lucifer’s great citadel overlooked it all, the tallest of its towers disappearing into the clouds.

They would call me a hero. There would be feasting, debauchery, orgies. Liquor would flow for days. Hell’s future was secured, the war was won.

Lucifer would grant me his favor. He would mark me, just like I’d wanted for so long. My ascension would be complete.

Archdemon.

Royal.

Revered.

I wanted none of it.

---