Page 62 of Demonic Cage
My face warms up.
Darya kissed me, twice, and wants me after the ceremony.
It seemed too wonderful, too otherworldly when I touched the tree. Would I feel the same now that I’m not engulfed bythe tranquility emanating from the plant? What changed? Why could I touch the tree?
I look at the bright-orange-haired, slant-eyed commander.
Since our encounter, I don’t know why I’ve felt a good connection with Lizander. I feel calm and balanced around him. I allowed him onto my bed. I allowed myself to fly in his arms.
“Do you have a habit of staring at others for ages?” he says, interrupting my train of thought.
I realize what it is that is so comforting about him. Lizander speaks like me like anyone my age.
“Do you, like Nárs, also collect modern words?” He looks at me from the corner of his eye.
“Many don’t speak of us as separate entities.”
“Yet you’re quite different. And…” I continue hesitantly, “have you always… known each other?”
The commander slowly exhales. He clearly doesn’t want to talk about it, yet he squeezes the answer out of himself.
“I must have been twelve when he emerged.”
“Why?” I probe, and in response, I get a look that makes me wish I could retract my question.
“Because of my mother.”
It’s as if Lizander’s words freeze in the air. I thought I hated my mother and father. However, the deep pain radiating from Lizander’s eyes makes me unsure of what real hatred is.
I dare not ask further, although I want nothing more than to know this mysterious stranger better, who bears two souls in one body. However, the distant, steady sound of music distracts me. The cave slowly widens, its red light turning vivid crimson. We enter a network of tunnels, where the ceiling is open, and with walls separating the corridors like in a maze. The music grows louder, and the crowd of demons increases. Guards stand along the walls. Under their right shoulders, purple veins paint slithering scars across their chest, like snake venom. Their club-ended whips rest in their hands. Demons in human form stand by stone tables, eating something.
They do not converse, at least not in human language. They only whisper or grunt, yet they understand each other. And I understand them too. Sometimes, I catch a sigh saying, “it’s her”, or “dance with me”, or “flesh”. But no one reaches out to me. The deafening music pounds my eardrums as we enter a massive chamber infused with red-black-blue lights. I’ve never seen so many demons piled up. They move as if they’ve forgotten where they are and what they’re doing.
The rhythmic techno music infiltrates my mind, pulsating in my head. The human figures in black leather gear, drugged and swaying, press against each other, quarreling and biting. They have sex. Their screams are drowned out by the cacophony of group mauling, much of which is happening right in front of us.
Lizander places his hand on my wrist and pulls me away from a demon. He points to the distant throne which stands empty, but the path through the crowd leads straight to it. Lizander wraps his arm around my shoulder, dragging me towards the throne.
We keep bumping into each other, and the sight seeps under my skin, tingling all my senses. I would vomit from the stench of demon blood, then flee from the sharp demon wings that occasionally touch me. I would scream from the claws being dragged across my skin. But I follow Lizander silently.
A black-haired woman rides a black demon. Human skin has sporadically grown back on the man’s skull. To their right, I see two men accompanied by three pitch-black demons. They kill and have sex on the same dance floor.
I look back at the demon-riding girl, her teeth sinking into of her partner’shead. With her bloody tongue, she tantalizes him further. I want to run, but it feels like my feet are rooted to the ground. Even Lizander’s tug doesn’t take me further. Based onwhat I’ve seen, I try to interpret the weight of Léthé’s words:The Demon King has no equal.I tremble as I consider what that could mean. I imagine a massive demon grabbing me by the arm, and I have to move with the monster.
Lizander tugs again – I can’t stay here. A bony servant demon collides with me. It stains my white clothes with its dark blood. I scream. However, not even I can hear my scream. The crowd roars like warriors in battle, the ground trembles as if an earthquake, and the music electrifies the air as though a firestorm rages.
A massive shove, and I’m torn away from Lizander. I fall. I lock eyes with an unconscious demon. I scream, stumble, and collide with a beast’s leg. It looks at me like prey. In its eyes, hunger and desire ripple.
It lifts me off the ground effortlessly and would rip my clothes off, but a sharp fan slices through its neck. In an instant, I’m in Lizander’s arms. We fly towards the throne.
When Lizander sets me down, my body trembles so much that if the man didn’t hold me, I would collapse.
“Are you okay?”
I nod stiffly. I still feel the putrid breath of the creature on me.
Lizander calls my name again, shaking my shoulder with a worried look, but I feel like I’m in a bubble. I only raise my head when he mentions Nárs for the third time.
“Would you answer him?” he asks, and suddenly I look at him. I’m surprised why he would think I’d prefer his mad self. Lizander misunderstands my sudden interest, and the pain that flashes on his face triggers guilt in me. If I weren’t in shock, I’d tell him he’s mistaken. But I can’t speak, so Lizander closes his eyes. His face contorts. It’s evident he’s struggling.
