“I still don’t understand why I have to follow you on this fool’s errand…”

King Malkira and Prince Ra-Gadol ambled through cramped, dark tunnels. The flavor of dust and mold tickled their tongues with every breath, and that itch made its way down their throats. The only light around them came from the torch in Ra-Gadol’s hand and the tome floating before Malkira.

Malkira did not turn to face his son as he spoke. “No. This errand is not foolish. It is refusing to follow me which is truly foolish, Rag.”

The demon prince sneered at his father’s use of the demeaning nickname. “You seriously believe every word the fortune-teller has spoken? He’s now sent you on a quest to acquire the one thing which can cure him of seer sickness. Moloch’s using you. That should be plain as day.” Ra-Gadol clenched his fist around the hilt of his sheathed sword. His hand shook for a moment, and he released his fingers from the handle again. “He’ll spin you whatever story you want to hear, whether those be fairy tales about the Apocalypse or simple promises of victory.”

“I know he’s using me.” Again, Malkira refused to turn and face his son. “And I allow it because I have made great use of him. Thanks to his guidance, we captured Brook Hold, Aramoor Village, Pella’s Wish, and now Sygin’s Mouth.”

“And we lost Brook Hold,” Ra-Gadol snarled. “Or have you not heard of the angel who killed Lord Raum? The one who calls himself King of Tir Shazelle? Did your… brother not see that coming? Or did he simply fail to warn you?”

Malkira’s feet stopped and Ra-Gadol stumbled to a halt behind him. “This… King Ozz, is it? He’s troublesome indeed, but he is far from the greatest concern on my mind. I seek to achieve a final victory over a war which has been waged for over a thousand years.”

Malkira continued down the tunnels until he and his son reached a dead-end, with a ladder leading upward. Malkira and Ra-Gadol climbed up the many story shaft. Both of them squinted as they entered the room at the top, and their eyes soon adjusted to the sunlight pouring through the windows.

They stood in a room where countless books and scrolls lined the walls. Each break between the bookshelves harbored a window three stories tall.

In the library stood a woman in a black dress and top hat. Both her hair and lips were as red as blood, and her skin as pale as snow. She held in her hand three leashes, and on the end of those leashes were three rottweilers, each wearing bejeweled collars. The dogs barked and snarled at Malkira and Ra-Gadol as they approached, but the woman commanded, “Sit!” and all three canines did so. “My liege!” she said with a bow of her head and tip of her hat.

“Lady Natalia.” Malkira gestured for her to raise her head. “Have you met my son, Ra-Gadol?”

“I have not,” she said, turning her roaming, dark eyes to the demon prince. “It is good to meet you, your highness.”

Ra-Gadol rolled his eyes. “Yes yes… pleasantries and all that nonsense. I’m assuming you have important news for us?”

“Of course.” Natalia turned to the doors behind her and called out, “Bring in the prisoner!”

The double doors to the library burst open, and in walked six men and women, each with pronounced blushes on their cheeks. They brought with them an elder man in manacles with a gag around his mouth and a blindfold over his eyes.

Natalia crept over to the old man and slid her long fingers across his shoulder. “The rest are my puppets, but this one,” she pointed to teeth marks on the old man’s neck, “resisted my venom.”

Malkira chuckled. “You must be a man of great vigor to resist a sangrel’s bite.” He turned his attention back to Natalia. “He has seen the Shrieking Shrine, then?”

Natalia’s lips hovered near the bite-marks on the old man’s neck, as if she relished the chance to attempt to enslave him again. “Without a doubt. He was a child when it happened, but I can say with certainty he witnessed the Shrine’s brief appearance.”

Malkira approached the old man and ran a long fingernail along his cheek, then removed the blindfold and gag. The old man’s nose was large and bulbous, his eyes a soft shade of blue, and his skin the color of desert sand. Long hair gray as storm-clouds fell around his face, and his beard was white as sea foam.

“What is your name?” Malkira asked.

The old man said nothing.

Natalia said, “His name is Owen, my liege.”

“Owen,” Malkira repeated. “I have no reason to take your life this day, Owen. Simply tell me what I wish to know, and I will release you. Do we have an understanding?”

Again, Owen was silent.

Malkira sighed. “Owen, I am not your enemy. Unless you prove yourself determined to make me so.” The Demon King’s fingers slid down to the old man’s throat. “HELP!” Malkira screamed. “There’s a demon! A terrible demon here! HELP! HELP! HEEEEEEEEELP!” Malkira continued screaming until his voice grew hoarse. Once he was done, he yanked the blindfold from the old man’s face and stared into his eyes. After a moment of silence, he leaned in close to the old man’s ear and whispered. “No one heard my cries. Don’t think they’ll hear yours.”

Owen stared up at him with defiance in his eyes. “I will not be your slave, demon! You will never turn me from the gods!”

Malkira scoffed. “I have no intention of turning your faith from your lords. Truth be told, I care nothing for what you believe. You will serve me in one way; by telling me all you know about the Shrieking Shrine.”

Owen tried to spit at Malkira, but his mouth proved too dry. He licked the roof of his own mouth to moisten it. “What could you possibly want with that place? Even demons cannot be safe from the evil which dwells there!”

“I seek to cure a dear friend of madness.” When Owen raised a skeptical eyebrow at Malkira, the Demon King smirked. “You don’t believe me. As I said, I don’t care what you believe. You will serve.”

“I WILL NOT!” Owen snarled, followed by a string of foul curses.

Ra-Gadol drew his sword and approached the humans under Natalia’s thrall. “You won’t speak? Perhaps if I cut out a few innocent tongues you’ll reconsider.”

Malkira raised his index finger to halt his son. “No. There’s no need to resort to violence.”

Ra-Gadol grunted. “But violence is my favorite part!”

The Demon King shook his head. “Violence is the resort of a feeble mind.” Ra-Gadol sneered at his father and sheathed his sword. The tome at Malkira’s side hovered forward and the pages splayed open. His fingernail traced the words along the page. “There are other ways to get what we want. Tell me, Owen, when is the last time you had a nightmare so terrible you thought your heart would fail you?”

The old man looked down at the ground and bit his lower lip.

Malkira smiled. “The wise know that there is much in this world to fear. Sagacity starts with terror. Aha! Here’s a spell which will loosen your lips.” He pointed his index finger at Owen, whose back straightened, and pupils dilated. The old man’s jaw fell open, his skin turned pale, and his whole body shook. Malkira wiped blood from the corner of his eye and said to Natalia. “Hold him still! Do not let him fall!”

Held fast by the arms of Natalia’s thralls, Owen flailed and screamed. His eyes raced back and forth, as if watching the most terrible of atrocities unfolding before them.

A giggle escaped Ra-Gadol’s throat. At his father’s chastising glare, he covered his mouth with his hand.

Malkira stepped forward and gently caressed the old man’s cheek. “I can make it stop any time you want. Serve me this once, and I will release you forever. If your gods cannot forgive you this one transgression, perhaps you really do need new gods.”

Owen’s screams grew louder, and his convulsions more erratic. Soon four of Natalia’s puppets held him up.

The three dogs pulled on the ends of their leashes and barked furiously at him. Natalia tugged on the ends of their leashes, keeping their fangs away from Malkira’s victim. “Down, boys!”

“I applaud your courage,” Malkira shouted over Owen’s cries, “but you must see this is far more than you can endure.”

The old man’s screams stopped suddenly, and he fell limp in the arms of Natalia’s thralls.

“No!” Malkira clenched his fists. “Does he still breathe?”

Ra-Gadol knelt, turned Owen’s head, and waved his hand over his lips. “No, Father. I think he’s dead.”

“Gah!” Malkira grunted. “Well, he hasn’t been dead long…” he turned through the pages of his book, then raised his hand over the old man. Blood streamed from the corner of Malkira’s mouth, and Owen awoke with a startled gasp.

Natalia’s thralls pulled the old man upright again, and Malkira patted his shoulder. “You’d rather die than talk. I understand that. But how many times can you endure death? As long as I act quickly and your body’s still intact, I can bring you back as many times as I need.”

Owen opened his mouth to speak but closed it again.

“How long must I subject you to nightmares?” Malkira asked. “I can plunge your mind into an abyss of terror for days, even weeks on end if I need to. Tell me you are wise enough to avoid wasting both our time.”

Still, Owen said nothing.

Malkira raked his fingernails against his own scalp and kicked a nearby chair. “Why does no one understand what I’m trying to do? No one gets it! Not my idiot son! Not my whore of a wife! No one appreciates my efforts!” The demon king seized the old man by his hair and forced him to look into his eyes. “I’m trying to end a war your gods started over a thousand years ago! Sygin gave us, the demons, this world and all that was in it. Your gods killed her, then put you here to steal Enlil’s blood from us.” Malkira jerked Owen back and forth and screamed in his face. “Your damn gods started this. And countless lives have been lost because of them.”

“Sygin murdered Enlil…” came the old man’s weak reply.

Malkira shoved Owen away. “So what? So what?” he screeched. “So, the Mother of all demons did one evil thing long ago. So what? The gods already made her pay for that! They killed our Mother. Why was that not enough? No, the gods are so lost without their precious Father that they’re willing to sacrifice anything to get him back!” Malkira grabbed one of the chairs and flung it up against the nearest bookshelf. The chair cracked in two, and the shelf’s contents tumbled onto the floor in a heap. Ra-Gadol and Natalia jumped back, away from their king. “It wasn’t enough to bring the murderer to justice! They insist on spilling her children’s blood too. How could that possibly be right?” The Demon King pointed an accusing finger at the old man. “No, I’ll tell you what I think really happened. Nyx, not Sygin, killed the Great Father! Yes, your gods, not mine, slew the first deity, and when Sygin tried to avenge him they killed her too!”

“Blasphemy…” the old man groaned.

Malkira spat. “Another fanatical reply of a feeble mind. Another stupid mortal who thinks repeating a useless word somehow makes him a theologian.” The Demon King brought his nose mere inches from Owen’s and screamed at him. “You know it’s true! You know your gods are fools and monsters who only want Enlil’s blood for themselves.” Spittle flew from Malkira’s mouth and speckled the old man’s face. “Say it! Say your gods are liars! SAY IT!”

Owen averted his eyes from Malkira.

“I AM THE LORD OF TERROR!” the Demon King roared. “I will make you talk!”

“Yes…” said the old man.

“Yes?” Malkira repeated, his rage seething through clenched teeth.

“Yes… I’ll tell you…” Owen looked up at Malkira, “…about the Shrieking Shrine…”

Malkira blinked twice and unclenched his teeth and fists. “Oh… good.” He struggled to slow his breath back to normal and brushed strands of hair from his face. “There. Was that so hard?” The Demon King wiped the saliva from his chin. He snatched a quill and piece of parchment from a table nearby and handed both to his son. “Make yourself useful. Take notes.”