Page 42 of Demonic Division (The Sundering Duet #1)

42

Dagny

The first thing I’m aware of is the scent of blood. The smell hangs heavy in the air, so thick it coats the inside of my throat and lungs. It takes root, pushing the air from my chest and past my trembling lips, billowing out in a thick cloud of vapor.

Cold. It’s so cold here.

Prying my lids open helps a little. I have to blink for several minutes just to clear the thick film coating my eyes. Even then, I’m left barely able to distinguish the blurry form of a slumped figure lying along the far wall of the room. My ears are ringing, but one sound does manage to break through the high-pitched whine rattling my skull.

The scraping of claws against stone.

I jerk forward, causing the hard strap of metal around my neck to press against my windpipe, cutting off my oxygen. My fingertips brush the edge of the metal, picking at the grooves of the thick bolts all around the circumference. They all come together to form the ring of a collar, bolted to the wall by a short iron chain.

When I realize there’s no way to remove it, I follow the thick iron chain holding me to the wall. My trembling hands brush the stone before me, frantically searching for some form of weak spot in the giant slab of metal chaining me in place. Nothing.

I breathe out in frustration, lowering my hands as I turn back to that shadowy figure I saw earlier. Now that my vision isn’t so hazy, I’m able to make out certain details—like the pair of massive, bat-like wings spreading from his shoulder blades, pooling on the floor around him like a blanket. He has dark green hair that flows past his shoulders and onto the ground, the edges matted and colored gray from the grime of the prison floors.

This one is far less imposing than the other demons I’ve encountered. His muscles are sunken at odd places, adding shadows to graying skin that sags loosely over his protruding bones. He looks to be terribly sick—or perhaps, he’s already passed.

“H-hello?” I call out, cursing the shake in my voice. “Are you… alive?”

The demon doesn’t respond, but he does raise his head from his chest, piercing wolf eyes the color of emeralds blinking lazily in the darkness. A gasp fills the air as I catch sight of the thick piece of metal strapped to the lower part of his face like a muzzle. Runes the hue of a mossy forest floor swirl over each inch of exposed skin, glowing faintly and casting harsh shadows along the panes of his gaunt face. And though I’ve never seen this demon before, that thing beneath my skin rises, desperately tugging me toward him.

“ Fenryr …” My mouth falls as shock rolls over me in waves. I’m not sure how I know, but I’m positive that the demon chained to the wall is Abaddon’s missing piece. But which one? Is this the real jealousy ?

At his name, Fenryr’s eyes crinkle at the corners, but he still doesn’t speak. Instead, he gestures to a thick leather-bound book lying at my side—one which I hadn’t noticed until this very moment.

“What is it?” I ask.

Again, he points at the ancient book, the chains around his wrists clanking softly. With little other option, I reach for the book with trembling fingers and pull it into my lap. Dust billows into the air as I crack it open to reveal frayed pages colored the hue of dying grass. There’s just enough light to make out the letters scrawled in jagged, swooping lines across the papyrus—similar to the notes in Kaebl’s library.

Strangely, underneath each line, the words have been transcribed into English in crisp black ink, leaving me to believe it was translated by hand just for me.

I bring the book closer to my face, my eyes skimming over the words greedily, a chill running down my spine with each page I turn.

The story written there speaks of a great demon war—a time of dissonance—those that believed halflings deserve the right to live, and those that thought they ought to be snuffed out for their potential abuse of power. I read about Abaddon, the greatest demon lord of The Far Place, and all his loyal followers. How he wanted to save the halflings, and though he was cruel, he was not pure evil like many of his opposers tried to make him out to be.

A frown forms between my brows as I read the last part, and I raise my head to look at Fenryr. “I thought Abaddon was the one who wanted to kill the halflings?”

Fenryr shakes his head, gesturing once more to the book and telling me to read. With a sigh, I return to the worn pages, my confusion mounting as I continue the dark tale. Contrary to what M had told me, it seems that Abaddon was one of the only demons fighting for the rights of the halflings. Because of this, the Slaine kingdom secretly planned to rise up against him. To rid the land of his influence once and for all.

And so, during a great feast, the cups of Abbadon’s house were poisoned with a powerful sleeping agent. In the night, the Slaine forces infiltrated, ruthlessly murdering the Abbadonians while they slept. The chaos was enough to wake Lord Abaddon, who rose to the sight of his castle bathed in blood, covered in the corpses of all his friends and staff. With a bellowing roar, the demon spread his great white wings and soared into the night, using every last bit of his strength to fight the opposing forces.

Eventually, Abbadon was overwhelmed, and the demon lord fell to the ground, battered and bloodied. Lacking the power to kill him, they wrapped his body in magical golden wire and sundered the great demon lord into six even pieces. They carved his heart from his chest last, only to leave the still-beating organ on the frozen ground next to the body. With the blood of the fallen lord coating their hands, Slaine’s forces rejoiced. They left the desecrated corpse in the center of the battlefield so all who passed through would know of their victory. And then…

I flip through the rest of the book, frantically searching for the remaining story. But the last of the pages have been torn from the spine, leaving me with only remnants of the truth.

“What is this?” I demand, raising my head to glare at Fenryr. “Where’s the rest of the story?”

Instead of an answer, I’m met with a familiar voice, slinking through the air and over my skin like warmed honey, warming my blood and unsettling my bones all at once.

“ Hello, Wildfire .”

My body jerks in response to the rumbling tone, causing the book to slip from my hands and fall to the floor with a bang. An all-too-familiar laugh pierces the air, sending a shiver down my spine and letting me know exactly who I’m speaking to.

“ M.”

“I’m glad you’re awake,” he says, his tone cloyingly sweet. “I was getting so bored.”

M’s pace slows, his claws scraping against the stone as he materializes from the shadows. The faint glow from his eye casts eerie shadows along the planes of his face, making his features much sharper than I remember them. More menacing.

Adding to that, M's chest and forearms are coated in a wine-colored substance which looks disturbingly like blood. Kaebl’s blood.

The memories of my last waking moments come swarming in, and I pitch to the side in a dry heave. The image of M ripping into Kaebl’s chest replays on a loop in my mind, and when I breathe in, it’s like I’m still there on the ground, helpless to do anything but watch as his body falls from the sky. I shudder, recalling the sound his bones made when he connected with the ground. The crunch.

“That was my favorite part,” M whispers. “Truly poetic.”

There are so many questions I want to ask, but only one pushes forward, demanding to be answered. “Why?” Why am I down here? Why do you have Fenryr? Why did you lie to me? Why did you betray me? Betray the others? Why, why, why?

“Do you still not know?” he asks, voice filled with sugar despite the malicious glint in his eye. “I suppose I can’t blame you. You only had half of the information.” M’s smile widens, his glowing red eye blinking lazily in the shadows. “Luckily, I possess all the answers.”

I clench my jaw, refusing to reach for them, to play into his hand. “Does it even matter anymore?”

M just smiles. “Oh, it matters a great deal , sweet Dagny. There’s still so much to our story. So many more chapters to be written.” His eye glows molten as he pulls my hand to his mouth, pressing his lips to the pulse point on the inside of my wrist. “And you’re the key to all of it.”

I shake my head, my mind swimming. “I don’t understand,” I whisper. “I don’t understand anything you’re saying…”

Canines lengthening, he crouches before me, slowly raising a clawed hand to my chest. His index finger prods the space just above my rapidly beating heart, a low, menacing chuckle shaking the air around us. “In order for me to explain fully, I’m going to need to tell you a story. The true story—what really happened after Abaddon was sundered.”

“I already read what happened. The book said?—”

“The book only tells a portion of the story,” he interrupts, gesturing to the ancient tome I was reading before he came in. “A fractured tale with an incomplete ending, all in Slaine’s favor. It’s because that’s how Slaine would like everyone to remember the sundering. As a success.”

“Wasn’t it? Abaddon isn’t here. I'd say he was pretty damn successful.”

M dips his chin, his mouth widening into an eerie, all-knowing grin. “Don't you think it’s odd there’s no mention of Kaebl and the other pieces? No mention of me? ”

“Maybe he didn’t think it was important,” I grumble, growing tired of humoring the red-eyed demon. “Maybe he thought you weren’t worth the trouble of writing about.”

M’s eyes flash with an emotion I’ve never seen before—one of disdain, or possibly even malice. “You are such a lovely, sweet little thing. But so, so very wrong,” he growls. “It was not written because it was not known. Kaebl, Cyprien, me… none of us were meant to be alive right now. Abaddon's pieces were supposed to remain as they were—to rot. They would have if it were not for Varys?—”

“Varys?”

M’s smile widens. “Yes, Varys. Abaddon’s loyal adviser.”

“His name wasn’t in the book. What does he have to do with anything?”

“ Everything, ” he whispers, his tone a revered hush. “He was the one mistake Slaine made. In the chaos and adrenaline, his forces were too excited to check for survivors of their massacre. And while Slaine and his forces were flying back to their lands for a celebration, Varys was pulling his bloody corpse across the frozen ground toward his lord. Using the last moments of his life to try to save Abaddon.”

My eyes scan M’s face, traveling down his neck and locking on to the glowing red rune in the center of his chest—the same one pulsing above my own heart. I’m not sure why he couldn’t tell me this story in the dungeons, but something in my gut tells me it’s nothing good.

“Did he? Save him, I mean?”

M stretches his arms out, spinning in a slow circle as his eerie laugh echoes off the walls. “What does it look like, sweet Dagny? I am here, and Abbadon is not.”

My brow creases into a frown. “I don’t understand. I thought Varys saved him.”

“ Tried. I never said he was successful. Once a being is sundered, it’s extremely hard to spare the integrity of their soul. Left apart for too long, the threads of it degrade and collapse. And a creature born of a shredded soul is no fun for anyone…”

“Is that what you are? Just a piece of a degraded soul?”

M smiles, but it’s not a happy one. “Partially.”

“Partially?”

He nods. “I am a piece born from Abaddon’s soul, that much is true. Just as Lir, and Cyprien, and Roark, and Fenryr are made up of pieces of him.”

“And Kaebl is the core?”

M’s mouth tightens into a thin line at the mention of the demon lord. “He thinks of himself as it, yes. But that hardly matters. What does, is how we all came to be and the sacrifice that made it so. You see, a soul must be bound to something in order to give it life—a tether, if you will.”

“And that’s what he did? Varys?”

M nods, his eyes clouding with a faraway memory. “Using the last of his strength, he gathered the pieces of Abaddon before moving to the heart, encasing the still-beating organ in ice. Sensing his strength failing, he buried it deep beneath the ice, hoping to keep it safe for his lord to retrieve once he was whole again. Once complete, he marked the location with his own blood on a piece of parchment and headed off into the blizzard. He walked and walked, never stopping to rest, not knowing where he was going or what he was looking for. Knowing it would find him. ” At this, he stops, his red eye twinkling with an all-knowing look, a secret shared between just us two. “By the grace of the gods, Varys stumbled upon the space between worlds just as his body was failing. He threw himself into the void, and when he next opened his eyes, a green forest surrounded him. Living earth crunched beneath his feet as he walked, and sounds of life chittered from all sides. Not knowing what he was doing—but knowing it had to be done all the same—Varys called to the spirits of this mortal plane. And one by one, the creatures of the forest answered.”

“ Your familiars,” I gasp, the pieces of the puzzle all falling into place as he speaks.

M’s smile widens, a silent chuckle shaking his chest. “Clever thing.”

“They’re your tethers… aren’t they?”

He nods, his clawed hand reaching up to grip my chin, holding me captive in his embrace. “With the last of the magic fleeing from his veins, Varys bound a soul to each piece of Abaddon, so that each fraction may be given life anew. The snake was the first to materialize, so Varys bonded it to the head—the core—gifting it with logic. The cat was next, which he gave to the chest, hoping the emotion tied to that part of the body would offset the cunning nature of the creature. The bear was bonded to the shoulders and neck, for grief settles there the heaviest. He gave the bunny to the stomach—believing this to be the place where joy originated—while the envious nature of the wolf was given to the pelvis. Last, he gave the fearful stag the legs, so it would always know when to flee and when to stay and fight. As the final threads of the bond snapped into place, Varys looked on in shock as six new demons materialized in the forest.”

He blinks, clearing some of the haze coating his eyes. “I remember it like it was yesterday. We were all so confused. Scared. ” He shakes his head, and some of the haze coating his vision fades away. “But that does not matter. What matters is that, just like our souls, each of our memories were fractured—tied to the emotion that each of us represented. The other pieces wanted to remember the whole story—how the sundering came to pass—so that they may recorrect the great wrong. To make Abaddon whole again was the sole aim of the group, one they thought held the utmost importance.” M looks off to the side as a sly smile creeps over his face, and his eyes light up with a sadistic glee. “Except, of course, for one of them…”

I don’t have to ask to know who—the emotion shining in M’s eyes tells me everything I need to know. It was him.

“Indeed, it was,” he murmurs, his eyes cutting back to me with a manic glint. “You see, Varys made a terrible mistake when he bonded the pieces of Abaddon to those creatures. Without a heart, the demon born of the chest had no empathy. And he was cunning—so cunning, that as soon as his consciousness snapped in place, he began scheming. Plotting to obtain his one desire—the one he held above all else. To live. ”

M begins pacing, his fist clenching and unclenching at his side as his tone grows severe. “Before Varys could tell them of the heart, I attacked, ending his life with a swipe of his powerful claw. And as Varys fell, I pulled the map to the heart from his pocket. Realizing I could not win in a fight against all five, I ran off into the night, rejoicing in the knowledge that without Varys, the remaining pieces would have no knowledge of how to make Abaddon whole again. Without me, they were truly lost.”

M falls silent, gazing off to the side with that faraway look once more, all the anger and rage evaporating from his shoulders and face. I wait for more, for him to explain the rest, for him to tell me why —but I don’t expect him to look so sorrowful while doing so. “For twenty-one long years, Kaebl and his soldiers studied while I dreamed…” M continues, his tone softer than before, devoid of the hateful edge it once possessed. “I dreamed of a life of my own. A castle and la nds to rule over. A family. A loving mate and little ones to watch over in the night.” M’s eyes flash, then narrow to thin slits. “But then, a terrible secret was revealed to me. Fenryr, the piece born of jealousy, had discovered a different way to put Abaddon back together. One that defied logic and the laws of the stars themselves.”

It’s at this moment that his gaze cuts to me, that all-knowing sheen lighting his eye once more. “It was found that his one true mate could work in place of a heart—could bind the pieces together stronger than any useless organ encased in ice—could make him whole, and more powerful than ever before.” A cold laugh pours from his open mouth, but it holds no joy. “ This, of course, would not do. If there was such a creature—one perfectly suited for Abaddon’s soul, as he was hers—then I could not allow Kaebl and the others to take me away from Abaddon’s mate— my mate.” His eyes flash as he rakes his gaze down my torso, a ravenous sheen swirling with the red. “If I had a mate, I would live, and bond with her, and make her my own. And if the other pieces tried to stop me, I would gladly end their lives. Or so I wished, ” he murmurs. “In reality, I’m not able to end the life of the core piece—and though the others can die, it would negatively impact my power. Regardless, Kaebl has to remain alive for me to exist. That fact posed a problem at the time, but it was one I was determined to overcome…” The expression lighting his face has my stomach churning, but despite everything in me that wants to run, to hide from what he’s about to tell me, I’m frozen to the spot. Forced to listen to the rest of this dark story.

“Before any information could be sent to Kaebl, I kidnapped Fenryr, locking him away deep in the ice tunnels. Unable to dispose of Fenryr, knowing Kaebl and the others were hunting me down, I chained him someplace he would never be discovered and left to enact the rest of my plan. And while Kaebl searched for me, I was in Slaine’s throne room, weaving half-truths of Kaebl’s ability to resurrect Abaddon.” M throws back his head, and this time, the sounds peeling from his mouth are filled with pure glee. “Slaine listened to my story, and he believed, and that belief turned to worry, as the last thing he wanted was for Abaddon to come back and take his throne. Oh, but I soothed his worries. Promised him a guaranteed solution. A way to end his little problem. A path for him to stay in power forever, if only he allowed me my life and freedom. A small favor—one he didn’t have to think twice about. And he agreed.”

“You,” I whisper, my eyes going wide as horror settles in the pit of my gut. “Slaine… the battle… it was all because of you. ”

“It was.” M smirks, only for it to drop into a frown in the next second. “If only it worked the way it was supposed to.”

“Didn’t it?” I snap. “It seems your betrayal worked out perfectly.”

He just shakes his head. “I was never supposed to be caught, never meant to be locked in Kaebl’s dungeons. It nearly caused my demise. If I was stuck there when Slaine attacked, I would have surely been buried beneath the rubble.” He shakes his head with a cold laugh. “For weeks, I waited down there in the dark and damp. For the end. For death. I stayed locked in that cell, recalling the years of reprieve I had as an individual. Remembering how I lived . For days, the only company I held was my familiar, Nya, who would only occasionally come around to taunt me with her freedom. I could not blame her for her nature, yet it grew a seed of hatred in the pit of my chest—one where a heart should have been. I resigned myself to die. To be snuffed out, once and for all.”

His smile widens, splitting his face in two as he stares at me, unblinking. “But then, you arrived. And you changed everything…”

I stare deep into that menacing red orb, a shiver running the length of my spine at the look of hunger shining beyond the feline slit. “What does that mean?” I whisper. “What did I do ?”

M smiles coyly, his claws scraping the floor gently as he walks the rest of the way to me. My eyes are stuck on the crimson bond mark glowing in the center of his chest, pulsing to the rapid beat of his heart. “Remember what I told you earlier, Dagny? That you were the key to it all? It’s not so much what you did but what you are. ”

He crouches in front of me, that gleaming red eye casting harsh shadows along the angles of his face, illuminating the row of pointed fangs peeking out through his smile. I’m frozen in place, incapable of thought as M reaches out slowly, cupping his massive hand around my chin. His claws curl inward, scraping the sensitive skin along my cheek and cutting shallow grooves into the flesh as a rumbling purr builds in his throat. “I knew what you were the moment he put you in the dungeons with me, little one. You’re my mate . Abaddon’s one, true mate. Fated by the stars themselves—something stronger than any bond.” He breathes in deep, his pupil narrowing to a thin, feline slit. “I felt it the day you turned twenty-one. It’s why Cyprien’s familiar was drawn to you—why it immediately entered into a bond with you despite knowing nothing of your power or ability. It knew them inherently, Dagny, don’t you see? Do you finally understand? Do you see why I said those things to you the first day we met, my wildfire? Do you see how true they were?”

M's voice grows more delirious by the second, filled with a desperation for me to understand. I try to speak but find I can’t. My voice is caught somewhere down my throat, but even if I could find it, I’m not sure I would be able to string a coherent sentence together.

Mate?

I shake my head, unable to believe it. “M…”

“There’s no need to call me by that false name any longer.” His eye lights with a fire that rivals the scorch of his tone. “Now that you’re mine, there’s no need for secrets.”

He leans in, stopping when our lips are just a breath apart. “I’ve been waiting so long for you to know the real me, little one,” he whispers, his words rolling over my skin like cooled silk. “So, so long.”

I swallow hard, not wanting the answer and needing it all the same. If Kaebl is the core—the logic—Cyprien is joy, Lir is grief, Roark is fear, and Fenryr is jealousy, then…

“Who are you?”

He just smiles, his one good eye glowing red, molten hatred. His smile changes, morphing into something inhuman, something far more akin to the nightmarish stories I was told as a child. And when he speaks, I realize I’ve never known true fear in my life. Not like now. Not when he leans in to whisper his darkest secret in my ear.

“ Malice .”

The End.