We fear the night forgotten by the playful moons. On these days the darkness is that much more present and the shadows are that much more wicked. So we huddle around our campfires, tell stories, and do not linger on what lies beyond their tender glow.

–A Candle Merchant

There were only three other demons in her cell still breathing, the rest lay butchered beside the humans who now joined them. Maya felt less than she thought she would observing the corpses of her brethren. When Cairn was destroyed it had set ablaze a raging inferno of rage inside of her and now–

Now all warmth had left her leaving not cold, just a lack of that maddening heat. Her mind was clear, as was her purpose.

Approaching the living remainder of her cellmates, Maya’s footsteps fell without strength but with assurance. When she reached the first of them—a child clothed in honey down, their midnight horns the smallest of the lot—it was enough to shake them gently for their eyes to flutter open. Maya gazed into the child's soft brown eyes and felt the fear residing within them. The child shivered as she took them into her embrace and gently smoothed her hand over their soft down. It’s okay; I am here.

Next was a man of maybe thirty—decked in feathers of gold, his horns a bronze crown curving around his head—the child's father perhaps. It would be a kindness if so, but Maya was skeptical of the fates’ regard for her kind. Supposedly they were neutral in this war. Supposedly the ceasefire still held.

A woman with an ocher pelt was the last, her horns light alabaster as opposed to the more common dark shades. That was good, Maya thought, the demons could use a spot of light in this darkness. The woman smiled at Maya, a note of thanks hanging between them, and a spot of hope collected among the four.

No words were spoken.

There was no need, for their purpose was evident. Escape and rescue. Heading in the direction away from where Maya had heard the footsteps approaching, the group opened the doors to the cells of demons one by one.

Maya had at first worried how they would open these cells but they were only sealed with a simple latch. Clearly, the demons were so wretched and weak that they didn’t warrant more. She couldn’t really argue with that. Cell after cell was filled with their prone forms, some hardly breathing, others no longer breathing at all. Why bother with the effort of killing them when they would do so all the same if left alone?

Some of these people, Maya recognized.

Sweet old Getta was the first familiar face Maya came across. She was also dead. Her stubborn old bones enough to make the harsh journey, only to die in the cold and dark destination. She was not the last familiar face, many more soon followed.

The village prankster, Egan, lay still in his mother’s arms. Mor could not wake him, she could not protect him, nor could she let her little boy go. That little boy was lost to the Void. Maya lay a hand on the Mor’s arm and they shared a determined gaze. They would take the boy with them, he would have a proper send-off, his killers would pay.

Boyd was inconsolable, Aina was dead. All that was left of her was a lock of golden hair. Maya found Boyd clutching the bundle close to his chest, murmuring and weeping, shaking in his bonds. When the others in the cell were freed—Cairns baker and a mix of farmers Maya wasn’t very familiar with—Boyd would not respond. He did not move even when his bonds were removed and the group of farmers tried to stir him into awareness. He did not twitch as the two strongest of the group hauled him to his feet and tried to guide Boyd out of the room. Enough was enough.

Every face would be remembered. Every horror etched in their hearts. Now was not the time for morning,

“Move,” Maya rasped.

There was a stirring in the air, a heavy silence that followed, a compulsion to move from this place. Boyd took one step then another.

His eyes met Maya’s, burning with rage. Not now, soon. He nodded and proceeded out of the cell and on to the next. The ever growing horde of demons followed. The mass of battered bodies blotted out the occasional light of torches. No one minded.

Here were demons coming into their own. No longer restrained by lands that would kill them. Darkness was no impediment to their glowing eyes and though broken and exhausted, they had never felt more alive.

Eventually, they found the end of the dungeon and Maya began to lead their trek back. Not long after passing Maya’s old cell, live demons became a rarity. They had still not found Kyle or Father and now Maya wished they never would.

The fates were not kind—Kyle was dead in the next cell—butchered and robbed of his horns. They left him glassy-eyed, the golden hue dull. Shards of splintered obsidian were scattered around his corpse, some of their edges splattered dark red. The one who did this to him did not come away unscathed but Maya couldn’t bring herself to care.

“Rest now,” she whispered and drew his eyelids closed. “Go peacefully and know that you will be avenged.”

Kyle couldn’t hear her, the Void had already taken him, but the words were necessary.

They knew the remaining cells would all be the same but check them they did. They noted the dead, shed their last tears, and returned stronger and more broken. Maya stood taller as her body’s protests sounded louder.

We’ve reached the end. Light shone from under one last door. Guards could be heard moving around and talking on the other side, not alerted to the demons' silent march. They were unsuspecting prey. Maya smiled. The demons smiled. They tore through the door in a wave and shredded their enemy into pieces. Blood painted the stone walls and giblets came to decorate the room, the demons emerging clothed in red and hate.

Stairs led out of the guard room and into a yard flanked by a towering wall on one side and a valley bathed in shadow on the other, within the yard man and woman sparred with sword, shield, and spear, and in another section, an archery range was in use. The lively action of the training grounds slowed quickly to a halt as red horrors emerged from the dungeon.

A captain called for order and the ranks came to attention. The order was made to fall into formation around the dungeon’s exit. The demons finished emerging surrounded on all sides.

There was a wall to the backs, one Maya recognized as The Wall. The Wall that stood between Cinfhail and the Wildlands—and Maya could not think the desolate valley before her was the Wildlands. For one thing, humans could not abide by the living earth. Which meant they were trapped.

Despair seemed an appropriate response.

Gone was her brother; butchered. Dead was the cobbler sloped against a wall. Dead was the farmer's wife; torso gutted like a fish. Dead was Lily, a lively girl of six, dyed red in the colour of her favourite flowers. The miller’s boy, dead; the carpenter, torn to shreds. Dead, dead, dead…

So many dead.

The laughter returned, in that raw, raspy voice. Giggling uncontrollably. This was all a massive joke. Maya had sworn to become strong so that never again would she fail to save her loved ones. So that they could not be taken from her. How foolish. How naïve. Those were the dreams of a girl denying reality.

This was a world where her kin had to fight for the right to exist. Where Kingdoms made it their mission to destroy all that mattered to her. Where strength reigned supreme. Where sweet Erin died and the fates didn’t care. Where every hope was dashed upon the shores of reality.

But her purpose would not die.

Maya stopped laughing. She watched the surrounding guards regard her warily. As they should. She was a demon, a killer of babes. The beast in the shadows, the horror of the night. While before she’d been shaking, now she was still. All that was left was to move forward.

The sky above darkened and around her ravens swarmed. Some came down to meet her, others darted off into the distance in search of unknown prey. There was tension in the air. Something had changed. Beaten ragged and barely able to stand, Maya felt power. Not just that of coming home. True power like nothing she’d felt before. The ground, the sky, everything was pulsing with life. Energy.

She heard, no, felt the words come to her. The spirits were calling to her. Guiding her in what she must do calling her back to her purpose. It was without question that she spoke to the world. This was right; this place, this time. It would be here that she made their proclamation.

“I say unto you of the fallow Kingdoms: The Kin do not lie quietly. The Void pulses and we wake to your horrors. It is in dismay that I declare your sentence: surrender unequivocally or be annihilated.”

Short and to the point. Her voice was raspy and hardly recognizable as her own. It was scarcely even a whisper. Yet the words were filled with the power of Vos himself and were heard in every corner of his lands.

The endless war, the war of ages. The Void war, the demon war. The war which needed no name, for it had always existed, returned.