The ‘Demon Lord’, as we have deigned to call that creature, has appeared rarely throughout the history of the endless war. There is little at all known about it other than it’s a being of overwhelming power and the manner in which the demon horde grows around it. The arrival of a demon lord always heralds a dark time for humanity, though, with the notable exception of the demon lord of the ceasefire.

—Excerpt from “the banned book”

As the Raven King looked solemnly upon the world from his perch above the clouds and the children of Corva scoured Cinnfhail for the captured Kin, Major General Conall sat in his dimly lit office with his face buried in his hands. Fragile flames danced on the wicks of the candles struggling to light the room, a feature he normally admired in the tiny lights and found lacking in the magical varieties. Today they brought him only a little comfort.

He couldn’t understand how he had forgotten the raven scouts—the harbingers of the demon horde—they who feasted on human flesh and suffering. No soldier of the last brigade would forget the sight of them blotting out the sun, and they wouldn’t knowingly abide by the presence of raven idols, and yet...

Again the black scouts were forming in the skies above and he was receiving confused reports of missing stone idols from various outposts, including those privy to sensitive information. Sensitive information like the killing, capture, and entrapment of demons.

The ceasefire stated in no uncertain terms what would happen in the event of hostility towards the ‘Kin’. The extermination of villages, wholesale slaughter and forced confinement of that very same Kin was a blatant violation of that. Never mind that Cinnfhail was imperial land now, it wasn’t at the creation of the ceasefire and no leniency would be found.

The war would renew in full force, only this time the kingdoms were mired with petty rivalries, ideals of pacifism, and an entire generation with no experience fighting the demon threat. They’d grown fat on stories of heroism, good harvests and peace. Conall would need to defend the wall with a half garrison of greens, misfits, and noble outcasts. Gods save them all.

There was a knock on the door.

“Enter,” Conall called out and straightened behind his desk, hiding his misgivings under the familiar mask of command, and watched the old oak door before him open. The ethereal glow of elf-light spilled into his office, causing him to squint, and oppressed the soft warm glow of his candles before being shut away again as his adjutant closed the door behind him.

At the sight of him, Conall allowed himself to sag back into his chair slightly. Farrel was one of the few competent men in this gods damned place and one of the fewer still that he trusted as a friend. Besides, there would be no hiding his worries from the perceptive bastard.

“I’ve talked to the veterans; none of them had thought of the ravens until seeing them in the sky again. The fault does not lie solely with you.” Farrel wasted no time with pleasantries.

“Maybe so; but the responsibility for this misstep does lay on my shoulders, and I—we—are in no way prepared for what that entails. Forget the royals, we will soon have a demon horde on its way that this garrison is not ready for.”

“Then we only need to prepare.”

“You know it’s not so simple.”

“But you’ll get it done regardless.”

“We’ll have to start with cleaning up our mess.” Conall shuffled through his papers before pulling out the report on the Cairn raid and skimmed through the damning evidence. Demon sighting reported by a hero—a bit strange, but then, he’d heard their type was always eager to help and was always looking to get into the good graces of those in power. Some acted on the opposite extreme, which was rather thankfully rare; pity the poor soul faced with an anti-hero.

Conall blinked and returned to focus. Now was not the time for wandering thoughts, nor would there be any in the foreseeable future, this moment was the time for decisions to be made and actions taken. “The demons of Cairn have been locked up as of this morning correct?”

“Correct.”

“Have the guards liquidate the pens; the courts of Lapris will make do with the dust and regents they already have. And make sure the guards properly dispose of all waste materials.”

“It will be done, sir.”

“You are dismissed.”

Farrel turned on his heels and was swiftly out the door, briefly flooding the stone office in early light before living it once again in near darkness. The flickering candles were no longer comforting, the dark shadows they cast so much more unnerving.

*****

There was an echo as a drop of water fell an unknown distance in the dark and landed in a puddle. Around the drop, a crown of unseen liquid leapt up to greet the drop before falling back in with it. The sound was sharp and clear, and then it was gone. Silence returned to the darkness but not before the sound could wake a demon.

Maya woke to the darkness and found it thick and pressing down on her. Suffocating her. Her body was numb to the cold and the pain but she knew that it was there, waiting to greet her once more. She tried to move but found it impossible. She tried to speak but choked on a mouthful of frigid air. Her body shook as fits of coughing and wheezing tore through her lungs desperate to expel phlegm, blood, and take in breath. Her coughing ceased, and Maya grew still once more.

Tears tracked crystal paths down her cheeks and Maya wondered at her ability to still cry, thinking her tears all used up by now. Pity. The previous movement caused some feeling to return. Pins and needles stabbing at her limbs becoming burning flames of pain and persistent aches. Being numb and immobile was better than this.

Was she still immobile? She could wiggle and shift but her body was bound by physical restraints as well as bodily limitations. Escape wouldn’t be possible then. Go figure.

Slow as it was, Maya was coming to her senses. Though still, she couldn’t see. That was wrong—all demons could see in the dark—had she gone blind? Panic rippled through her confusion repeating the question over and over in her mind obscuring her thoughts.

Where was this pla—Was she blind?

Why was she boun—Was she blind?

She couldn’t feel her—Was she blind?

Erin.

That stopped all thoughts and began them all anew. Erin was dead, Cairn destroyed and she was captured for some reason she couldn’t fathom. That wouldn’t last long she knew; all demons had to die and Erin was dead. She wouldn’t mind dying too. Even as Maya's thoughts cleared, a wave of exhaustion hit her and slowed them to a crawl.

Soon Maya returned to the world of dreams; there, fire lit the night as a small village was destroyed before her eyes again, and again, and again.

*****

Maya bathed in flames and smiled as their golden tungs licked at her flesh painting her in charred black. She sunk into the inferno’s embrace and welcomed it to rip into her and feed on her blood. Let every one of its thousand ethereal blades stab her interchangeably with scorching heat and frozen steel. The flames were all that existed. All that ever had and could exist. They were everything and she was a part of them. Maya could lose herself in them.

A burning shop. A scream ripping through a horribly sunny day. Lines of beaten people dragged through mountain passes. The unseeing eyes of living corpses. The stares of the dead. Erin.

The flames were of the void—a rip in space where no light was to be found, no warmth to be felt, and no sorrow to eat at her soul. They coiled around her, enveloping her. Beckoning her to come closer. They promised oblivion and they were beautiful. The dark flames enveloped her, readied to swallow her whole. She was going home, and Maya was eager to be there.

A shiver coursed down her spine. Odd. It felt like- Was she forgetting something? It was something important. She had failed. Maya wasn’t supposed to fail. Why was that? She had trained, hard and unrelenting since that day. The day when… something...happened?

She felt the darkness sink into her mind and felt herself drifting. How nice it was to float so serenely in soft waves, she could do this forever. Forever? what an odd thought; as if there was anything else. A light giggle echoed as though coming from every direction. What a beautiful sound; all tinkling and light. Oh, right. That sound belonged to her. She sounded happy. Thoughts came to her mind as quickly as they flitted away. How strange that she could not hold on to them—a ridiculous thought—why would it be strange?

She was remembering something before. Something about the past. Now that was a funny idea. The past. It was a memory of her mother. Maya loved her mother. Why did she feel sad? Sad—what’s that? No, that was wrong. She wasn’t sad but angry. Was it frustration? She had worked so hard, but she had failed when it mattered most and now everything was gone.

Nothing mattered anymore; that made sense.

The flames tore at Maya. When had she forgotten them? They insisted she move, that she tear free of her restraints and scream. She needed to lash out, and destroy the bastards that did this to her, to Erin, and Noa. How had she forgotten Noa? Her dear, scatterbrained, wonderful Noa. What had happened to the rest of them? Her Father was weak, could he possibly be alright? Kyle would be with him; that was a measure of reassurance.

The world returned to Maya as her thoughts hurried to organize her most recent memories. She could not say for how long she had been in this place or where this place could be. She remembered being dragged through mountain passes in a daze unable and unwilling to take notice of her surroundings.

Then they tied a blindfold around her head and led her staggering down a long series of steps and turns. The heavy band of material could still be felt pressed onto her face—she wasn’t blind then. She had stumbled often, her aches reminded her, and she had not been fed. That was the pain in her belly. Her throat was parched but she had to have had water at some point or she’d be dead. She wasn’t dead though, and she could feel.

And she could hear.

Steps fell on a stone corridor and echoed down the long hallway accompanied by shouts too distant to comprehend. Then she heard the distant scream of life coming to an abrupt end. There was no mistaking that; it was all too familiar a sound.