Drachar's Demons

Stephan lurched out of bed, the echoes of screams still ringing in his ears. “I’m coming, Ashona!” he called, trying to reassure her as he hurriedly pulled on his night robes. He stubbed his toe as the heavy wooden door between their rooms swung open, cursing under his breath as he hobbled toward her. The pain was sharp, but he pushed it aside–her screams mattered more.

The room was pitch dark, and it was late–probably well past midnight. He’d been in a deep sleep, his mind still foggy from dreams, and the whole night felt strangely unreal, as if the world itself was holding its breath.

He reached her side. Ashona was thrashing in the tangled sheets, screaming–no words, just the terrified cries of someone trapped in a nightmare.

“Hush,” Stephan said gently, trying to calm her. He hesitated to touch her, but when her screams grew even louder, he leaned over and gathered her into his arms. Instantly, she jolted awake.

“No! Don’t let them take me!” she cried, still caught in the nightmare’s grip. She sobbed, and Stephan held her tightly, rocking her gently. “You’re safe now. It was just a dream. It’s over. You’re safe, Ashona.”

“Don’t let them take me,” she repeated, her tears soaking through his robes. The desperation in her voice shocked him–he’d never heard such anguish before. “They were ripping my soul from my body. The pain… Don’t let them hurt me.”

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” Stephan promised, and he meant it. Gradually, her sobs quieted, though she clung to him fiercely. He’d never been held so tightly by anyone before. She was trembling, still crying, but she was safe in his arms now.

“What have I done?” Stephan moaned, gently stroking Ashona’s hair. For a moment, the only sound was her quiet sobbing. He sighed, regret heavy in his voice. “I should never have started this experiment. I shouldn’t have suggested it. This is the worst nightmare you’ve ever had, isn’t it?”

Ashona nodded, and Stephan let her settle back onto the bed. He spoke softly, “Can you tell me what happened?”

Her voice was raw and shaky. “I was in a cave. It was horrible. They surrounded me. I couldn’t get out…” Her words tumbled out quickly, panic rising with each sentence.

Stephan squeezed her hand. “It’s okay, hush now.” He turned to the candle on the bedside table, tracing a rune in the air with his finger–a shape sorcerers use to summon elementals. A flame elemental appeared, lighting the candle before vanishing, its task complete.

“There. You can see now. You’re safe,” he said gently.

Ashona stared at the flame, her eyes tight with fear. Normally, they were wide and trusting, but now they were mesmerised against something only she could see. Her face was wet with tears, and Stephan carefully dried them with his sleeve. She did not possess conventional beauty, yet her eyes drew his attention. He found them so compelling that he considered it possible to investigate them for hours, as he gently moved her hair away from her face.

“If you’re up to it, can you tell me what happened?” he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper, as if afraid to disturb the fragile silence between them.

She looked haunted, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

“I was trapped in a cave,” she started, her voice quivering. “Demons swarmed all around me, laughing at my pain and my fear. I could sense them clawing at me, as if they were tearing my soul from my body. They thrived on my suffering, and I had no power to stop them. It was the most horrifying nightmare I’ve ever experienced–so vivid that I honestly thought I was stuck there, completely alone with them.”

He reached for her hand, his own shaking slightly. “You’re safe now,” he murmured, trying to anchor her to the present. “It was just a dream, nothing more. But I think we’re getting closer to understanding what’s causing them. This is the fifth night you’ve had these dreams in this part of the city, and tonight was the worst yet. If there’s a source, it must be nearby.”

“Why?” she sobbed, her voice cracking. “Why am I haunted by these nightmares–and why are they so vivid here?” Her desperation hung in the air, heavy and raw, as if she were pleading for someone–anyone–to save her from the torment.

He squeezed her hand gently, heart aching with helplessness. “We’ve searched the city, chasing answers,” he murmured, voice low and steady. “But I think we’re close now. I believe we’ve finally found the reason–or at least the source of your dreams.”

A chill settled between them, the silence stretching. Shadows flickered on the walls, and for a moment, it felt as if something unseen was listening, waiting.

She managed a faint, shaky smile, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand. “And what will people think? The two of us, not even married, sleeping in so many rooms these past weeks.” Her attempt at humour was thin, but it showed her need for reassurance.

He smiled back, his gaze steady and warm. “Who cares what anyone else thinks? You’re all that matters to me, and I want these nightmares to end–for you. I know it is horrible, but finally I know your dreams are worse in this part of the city–especially near his laboratory.”

“Whose laboratory do you mean?” she asked, though he could tell she already suspected the answer.

“Lothanal,” he breathed, barely daring to say the name aloud.

She stared at him; shock etched deep in her eyes. “Lothanal? You mean he is experimenting with demons? But… demons aren’t real,” she whispered. “It’s one thing to dream about them, but to actually believe–”

“Our history is full of demon tales,” he interrupted softly. “There must be some truth to them. Our ancestors certainly believed.”

She shuddered. “That only makes my dreams more terrifying.”

He gently stroked her hair. “Have you noticed the candle?” he asked, nodding toward the flame.

Her gaze snapped to it. “Its flame is blue,” she choked. “I hadn’t noticed…”

“Ancient legends say that flames burn blue in the presence of a demon. For several weeks now I’ve suspected Lothanal, but proving he is the cause has escaped me.” The words hung in the dimly lit room, where the air was thick with the scent of melted wax and the faint tang of smoke drifting from the candle. Shadows danced across the walls, flickering in rhythm with the restless blue flame.

“More recently, I’ve placed lanterns around here for several nights–they often burn blue.” Outside, the wind rattled the windowpanes, causing them both to glance around anxiously.

“Your dreams only serve to confirm my fears. Tomorrow, we put our plan into action. It could be dangerous. I’ll need your help. Are you with me?” His voice was barely more than a whisper, but it carried the weight of urgency and dread. The blue light reflected in his eyes, creating a surreal mood.

She barely nodded, gripping his hand tighter. “Stephan…”

“Yes?” His voice trembled at the intensity in her eyes.

Ashona’s voice trembled as she stared into the darkness. “Something terrible is coming. I sense it. My dreams feel like a premonition, but why am I the only one plagued by them? There are others sleeping nearby, but no one else wakes up screaming.”

Stephan shook his head, “I don’t know. Not for certain, anyway. But I’ve recently learned of something called a shaol.”

Ashona frowned, confusion clouding her features. “A shaol?”

“It’s said to be a guardian spirit,” Stephan explained, voice dropping to a whisper. “Like a sixth sense. It is said that some people are more closely linked to their shaol than others.”

Ashona’s brow furrowed. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“I only read about it recently myself,” he admitted. “But in your case, it makes sense. Maybe that’s why you connect so easily with elementals–and why you’re more vulnerable to these dreams. You’re the fastest sorcerer I know. You can summon an elemental faster than anyone else.”

Ashona still looked uncertain, so Stephan sought to reassure her. “Don’t worry. Dawn is almost here. Night terrors always seem less real in the daylight. But we need to find out if my fears are justified.”

Ashona glanced at him, her voice barely above a whisper. “What are you planning?”

He gave a small, serious smile. “A little spying of my own. And for that, I’ll need your expertise with elementals.”

As the distant clang of church bells echoed through the night, muffled by heavy velvet curtains, the tension in the room thickened; uncertainty and fear lingering in the shadows, waiting for the first light of dawn.

Lothanal’s heart lurched–he nearly stumbled as pain shot through his feet, a numbing cold crawling up his legs. He stared at the landscape, unable to believe what he saw: utter desolation. The ground glowed faintly green, rocks scattered everywhere, but there was no sign of life. Not even a whisper. Green–the colour he’d always linked to demons. He must be in the right place. Yet the reality of standing in their world was almost too much to bear.

For months, he’d watched the demons through his kara-stone, glimpsing their dark, lifeless realm. But being here was worse than any vision. Despair pressed down on him, heavy and relentless, as if the very air tried to pin him to the ground. He fought the urge to scream. He had to find strength–he’d risked everything for this. His life, his soul, all wagered on a single gamble. There was no turning back now.

He was at the height of his power, daring what no other sorcerer had even dreamed. If he succeeded, he would wield unimaginable strength. He would show the Eldric what true power meant. He would conquer a world–become emperor, with people begging for his favour.

But as he looked around at the barren wasteland, doubt gnawed at him. Where were the demons? Why was it so empty? He nudged a rock with his toe–agony shot through him, so sharp he nearly cried out. The ground itself seemed to attack him. When the pain faded, he realised the rock felt weightless, as if all life had been drained from it. This was a world of cinders and ash.

He glanced up: only darkness and distant, dim stars. No clouds, just a haze that dulled even the light above. He looked down at his hand–and froze. The kara-stone was gone. Panic clawed at his mind. His only way home had vanished.

With trepidation, he lifted his hand to his face. Relief washed over him–something white and translucent rested in his palm, nearly filling it. The kara-stone–or perhaps only its ghostly shadow. He curled his fingers around the shape, instinctively trying to shield it. Though it seemed only a phantom, the object gave him hope; he was counting on it to guide him home. Maybe he was like the kara-stone, not truly part of this world–here only in spirit. A faint smile tugged at his lips, but his cold, grey eyes remained lifeless, mirroring the bleakness around him.

He’d expected fear. Fear! That word felt laughable now–he was utterly terrified. Still, he forced himself to take a step forward. Pain stabbed through his leg, his mind screaming in agony. He pressed on, undeterred, each step a battle. Naked and freezing, movement brought no warmth. He glanced down at the kara-stone’s shadow, drawing what little comfort he could–warmth, hope. It was his only way home. He prayed he wouldn’t lose it.

He trudged on, covering a few hundred yards before something brighter caught his eye. Squinting, he tried to make sense of it. Against the dark outline of a hill, scattered with boulders, a glow radiated from a cluster of shapes he couldn’t identify. As he drew closer, the forms resolved into three creatures. His heart pounded in his chest. He hesitated, considering escape for the first time. What would they do to him? Could they steal his soul, trapping him in their world forever? Each step felt heavier than the last. If they captured him, he knew–he was doomed to an eternity of torment.

Two of them were unmistakably demons–of that, he was certain. But the third… the third was a man, and that realisation sent a jolt of fear through his veins. He froze, breath caught in his throat. Had the Eldric–his own people–ventured here before him? The demons were grotesque: tall, gangly, with limbs that seemed to stretch forever and talons that glinted in the dim light. One had a wolf’s skull for a head, its fleshless jaws bristling with teeth that looked eager to tear into him. The other’s arms bent like a spider’s legs, jointed in three unnatural places.

He’d seen demons before, but always from a distance, always with the safety of his own world between them. Now, standing before them, the difference was staggering. But what was a man doing here? Doubt gnawed at him, cold and relentless. Was this the end of his plans before they’d even begun? No one knew the demon world as he did–he was sure of that. And yet, someone else had dared to cross over. If this man was Eldric too…

The trio didn’t move. They simply watched him, eyes locked on his every twitch, as if daring him to make the first move. Their stillness was almost more terrifying than an attack. He took it as a sign–an omen, perhaps–and forced himself to step forward, ignoring the pain that flared with each movement. Then he saw the man’s eyes: blood red, burning with an intensity that seemed to pull him closer. Without realising it, he’d taken a dozen steps toward them. He stopped, now only ten paces away. Up close, he saw it–all their eyes were red, and their gaze was so intense it made him shiver. He felt like prey, served up for breakfast, lunch, and dinner all at once.

“Welcome,” the man said, his voice smooth as silk and honey. Lothanal flinched, startled out of his wandering thoughts. He struggled to focus, unsettled by the man’s presence. “Welcome to our world.” The words lingered in the air, almost hypnotic.

The man was striking–handsome in a way that bordered on painful, standing with his hands clasped behind his back, radiating effortless confidence. Lothanal felt small, like an insect beneath the gaze of something far greater.

He glanced at the other two demons, sensing their power easily. But the man was different–a void, impossible to read. That frightened Lothanal. Power he could sense meant power he could control, but this emptiness was unnerving. He guessed the man was the most powerful of all, able to wear a human guise, yet giving away nothing.

“I’ve come to negotiate a pact,” Lothanal said, keeping his tone steady. “I seek the power you command and in return, I offer you souls. I am your ally. Soon, the barriers between our worlds will thin, and your people will be able to cross into mine. I can help make this happen. Together, our strength will dominate the land.” He had rehearsed these words a thousand times, but what happened next shattered all expectations.

A voice thundered from nowhere, “We have seen enough.” Lothanal spun, searching for the source, his heart pounding. The demons looked just as alarmed. The voice seemed to come from everywhere at once. Suddenly, a blinding flash erupted, followed by a deep, resonant boom that hurled him backward, stealing the breath from his lungs and scattering his senses.

Lothanal came to, sprawled face down on an unyielding floor, every breath sharp with pain. His body throbbed with bruises, and his head rang as if struck by a bronze hammer. He coughed, choking on dust that clung to his throat and lungs. Blinking grit from his eyes, he tried to look around, but the overturned laboratory desks blocked his view. All around him, books and shattered glass littered the floor–vessels hurled from their shelves by the blast. Panic twisted in his chest. He’d been discovered.

He tried to stand, but his legs buckled beneath him, the explosion having stolen his senses. For a moment, he lay there, stunned, until the reality of the blast settled in. The laboratory door had been blown from its hinges, and dust hung thick in the air, making every breath a struggle.

Then, through the ringing in his ears, voices broke through–urgent, unfamiliar. Lothanal pushed himself to his knees, coughing and retching as footsteps thundered into his laboratory. How dare they! Rage flared in his mind. He staggered upright, hands already moving to trace a rune in the air–a symbol that would unleash fire and block the intruders’ path.

But he froze. A sword point pressed cold and unyielding against his throat.

He dared not move. His eyes followed the blade to the hilt, then up to its owner–a soldier, face twisted in a snarl, eyes dark and unblinking beneath a battered helm. The message was clear: move, and you die. The soldier’s breath, sharp with garlic, was so close Lothanal could almost taste it. Suspended in that moment, Lothanal’s mind raced, searching for any escape as the invaders closed in.

Lothanal’s hand dropped to his side, his gaze darting from the imp lurking in the corner to the milky white kara-stone resting on the bench. Suddenly, a hand shot out, encircling the stone and snatching it away. Fury surged through Lothanal, heat rising to his cheeks. He glared at the soldier who held him at sword point. The soldier’s lips curled into a faint, taunting smile.

“Go on,” the man breathed, voice low and dangerous. “Try it.”

Two figures stepped forward, picking their way over the shattered debris. The first was tall, his flowing robes marking him as a sorcerer, though he looked almost fragile beside the armoured soldiers. A woman joined him, gathering her robes as she navigated the wreckage. Her eyes met Lothanal’s–soft, searching, almost pleading for an explanation for his journey to the demon world. The look only stoked his anger. Why should she understand? He was above them, and he owed no one an explanation.

“How quaint,” Lothanal sneered, forcing a cold, humourless smile. “Lord Stephan and his ever-loyal Lady Ashona.” He tried to appear unfazed, but inside, his anger boiled. Of all the people who could have caught him, it had to be Stephan. The humiliation burned. Stephan faced him, eyes sharp and accusing, head tilted in that infuriatingly patient way his students knew so well.

I’m waiting for your answer, the look said. I’ll stand here all day if I must.

Pompous fool. Lothanal’s hands trembled. He tried to clasp them together to hide the shaking, but it only made it worse. Defeated, he let them fall to his sides, his mind racing for a way out.

He glanced at Ashona. Her eyes flickered between him and the imp crouched in the corner. He recognised that look–he’d seen it in the eyes of creatures he’d slain. Fear. She was afraid of the imp, and her fear stoked his anger. Ashona was nothing to him–a mere slip of a girl, hardly capable of standing up to an angry ant. Yet his mind spun with anxious thoughts. Why were they together? They were as different as night and day. And how many others knew of his betrayal? That’s what they would call it–a betrayal of their dull, fragile existence.

“I should have known it would be you two,” he muttered, following her gaze to the imp. The soldiers kept glancing at it too, their faces twisted in disgust at the foul stench that filled the air. Demons always reeked. That was a fact.

“Banish the demon,” Stephan demanded, his lips curled in a grimace.

“You do it, sorcerer,” Lothanal shot back, his words sharp. He caught the flash of rage in Stephan’s eyes.

A sword pricked his throat. Lothanal instantly regretted his taunt. The cold steel focused his thoughts. He hesitated to banish the imp–it might have betrayed him. If so, it couldn’t be trusted. He cast the imp a warning look, promising a reckoning, and with a wave of his hand, dismissed it. Instantly, the tension in the room eased.

White light spilled through the shattered doorway, illuminating the chaos left by the explosion. He glared at the destruction, loathing these meddlesome magic users. Anger welled up inside him, and Ashona must have sensed it–she stepped back, wary. He shot her a withering glare, hoping it promised retribution. She stared back, small and dark-haired, her eyes wide and liquid like a startled deer. At her side, Stephan stepped forward, protective as ever. He was the stronger of the two, always so self-righteous. Piety was the curse of the Eldric.

“You’ve betrayed your people,” Stephan’s voice rang out, cold and accusing, his glare shifting from Ashona to Lothanal. “Elementals are tolerated. But demons? You’ve crossed a line.”

Lothanal’s lips curled into a sneer. “Spare me your lectures. You don’t know what you’re talking about. Elementals? They’re child’s play–a breeze in a storm. Demons hold real power, power you can’t even imagine.”

Stephan’s eyes narrowed, his face shadowed with contempt. “You don’t belong here. Your actions have made you an outcast. Even your shaol betrays you.”

Lothanal stiffened, refusing to show uncertainty. Shaol? The word meant nothing to him, but he wouldn’t let them see his ignorance. Let them think what they wanted. They couldn’t hold him forever. This wasn’t the end.

“Take him to the dungeons,” Stephan ordered, voice sharp as steel. Guards closed in, swords drawn, ready for any resistance.

Lothanal’s eyes darted around, searching desperately for his kara-stone. Gone. The realisation hit him like a blow, rage simmering beneath his calm exterior. He clenched his fists, forcing himself to breathe. Kara-stones were rare–losing one was a disaster. He considered fighting, but then a slow smile crept across his face. The Eldric were soft. He’d find a way out. Banishment was likely, but he’d already been planning to leave. Their intrusion only sped up his escape.

As he was led away, Lothanal shot Ashona a venomous glare. She recoiled; fear etched across her face. The procession marched him toward the dungeons, but he vowed–his fate would be his own to decide.

“Damn him,” Chanathan spat, pacing the room with restless energy. “What was he thinking?”

Ashona watched, unease twisting in her gut as she sank deeper into the armchair beside Stephan. The memory of the demon’s presence clung to her, cold and heavy–a stain she couldn’t shake. She’d never imagined she’d see a demon, and now the experience haunted her.

Stephan’s voice broke the silence, low and troubled. “He’s been watching the demon world for some time, that much is clear.”

“But why?” Chanathan demanded, stopping at the window. Candlelight caught his reflection in the glass, casting a ghostly double that seemed to linger with the night’s shadows. After everything that had happened, Ashona’s heart hammered in her chest.

“Power,” Ashona said, her voice barely above a whisper. The others turned, their eyes sharp and searching, and she shrank under their gaze. “I felt it–the power in the room, even before we entered. That demon was no ordinary creature. It was far stronger than any elemental.”

Stephan hesitated, uncertainty flickering across his face. “I’m not convinced it was a demon. I think it was an imp–a lesser demon.”

“An imp?” Ashona’s voice rose, disbelief sharpening her words. “But the power it radiated! If that was only an imp, what must a true demon be like? One thing I know for certain–it hated us. It wanted to kill us, to steal our souls. Didn’t you feel that, Stephan?”

Stephan shook his head, bewildered. “I admire your intuition, Ashona, but I sensed none of that. Still, there’s no doubt the imp was evil. That much I could tell.”

Chanathan’s brow furrowed. “Why does he crave power? It makes no sense. Elementals provide more than enough for our needs. Seeking more from demons is madness! Doesn’t he realise the danger? If he summons something beyond his control, the entire city could be destroyed.”

“That’s the problem,” Stephan muttered, his voice barely more than a growl. “He never thinks. I’ve warned him repeatedly, but he’s drawn to that world–helpless, like a lamb to its mother.” His words hung in the air, heavy and final.

A tense silence followed. The fire crackled, shadows flickering across the walls. Chanathan’s hands trembled as he reached out, desperation etched in every line of his face. “So, what do we do now?” His voice was raw, almost pleading. His eyes locked onto Ashona’s, searching for hope, for any answer at all. She felt the weight of his gaze, and for a heartbeat, the room seemed to shrink around them.

Ashona glanced at Stephan, her heart pounding. He met her eyes, and she saw something she’d never seen before: doubt. His jaw was clenched so tightly she thought he might shatter his own teeth. For a moment, his gaze flicked to Chanathan, then back to her, as if he was silently begging her to decide for him. She’d known Stephan for years, but never had she seen him so torn–so close to the edge.

Finally, Stephan spoke, each word forced out like poison. “He’ll be banished.” He spat the words, as if they tasted foul. Ashona’s brow furrowed, and suddenly she understood–he’d wanted to say something far worse. He’d considered killing Lothanal. The realisation struck her like a blow, and her eyes widened in shock. Stephan looked away, unable to meet her gaze, shame flickering across his face.

Chanathan spun, fury twisting his features. “By the Kalanth! That’s it?” His voice rose, trembling with fear and anger. “With the power he could wield, all we can do is banish him? And then what–wait for him to come back, leading a demon army?” The words echoed in the room, and for a moment, no one dared to breathe.

Outside, the wind howled against the windows, as if the world itself was listening, waiting for their decision.

“There’s… another option.” Ashona’s voice took on a new note. She sounded hardened as though strengthened in some way. “A rune. One so intricate, it would take a full day to cast. Four by four–each elemental: air, fire, earth, and water.”

Chanathan’s frown deepened. He stood tall, his presence imposing, and the silver at his temples caught the candlelight. “To what end?” His tone was sharp, almost suspicious. Ashona felt a chill–advising the king’s closest confidant was never comfortable.

She met his gaze. “To turn any spell Lothanal casts back on himself,” she murmured.

A stunned silence filled the room. Chanathan drew in a sharp breath, disbelief and awe flickering across his face. “Is that even possible?”

Ashona’s answer was barely audible. “Yes… I think so.” She glanced at Stephan, searching his face for certainty.

Stephan’s eyes widened, realisation dawning. “Of course!” he burst out. “It’s brilliant.”

Ashona’s doubt lingered. “You really believe it can be done?” Her voice was fragile, betraying her uncertainty. She’d feared even mentioning the idea.

Stephan nodded, more sober now. “Yes. But you’re right–it’s a complicated spell.”

Chanathan’s gaze was steely. “See to it. The trial is in two days. If Lothanal is found guilty, we proceed.”

Stephan touched Ashona’s arm gently. “Come on, Ash. We’ll need rest if we’re to pull this off.” They slipped out together, leaving Chanathan alone, pacing. The weight of what had transpired–and what might come–hung heavy in the air. An Eldric Lord fallen from grace was a dark omen indeed.

“Wake up, Salar!”

Salar groaned and yanked the blanket over his head. “Go away,” he mumbled. “It’s too early.” He tried to roll over, but the blanket was suddenly ripped away. For a moment, they wrestled for it–then, defeated and fully awake, Salar sat up, rubbing his eyes.

A candle flame flickered inches from his face. He squinted against the glare, baring the crooked teeth he usually tried to hide. When he spoke to people, he’d lower his head, hoping no one would notice. Most just accused him of mumbling.

“What’s going on, Forfar? This had better be important,” he warned, voice rough.

Forfar’s eyes darted nervously. He was an apprentice too, both of them in their fourth year–a life with plenty of time for study… or sleeping in.

“It’s your master. He’s been arrested,” Forfar blurted, wasting no time.

Salar’s sleepiness vanished. “What? Arrested? For what?”

Forfar hesitated, then whispered, “Looking into the demon world.”

Salar’s response was out before he could stop himself. “Is that all?” The words hung in the air, and Forfar’s eyes narrowed. Salar realised his mistake. He forced a shaky smile. “I mean, we use elementals all the time–how bad can it be just to look into their world?” Out of habit, his hand went to cover his mouth, but he caught himself. Hiding only made him look more guilty. His hand hovered, then dropped to the sheets.

Forfar shook his head, eyes locked on Salar. “Be very careful what you say. Just being his apprentice could tie you to his crimes and right now, you don’t sound very innocent,” he warned, voice low and urgent. He leaned in, his gaze sharp. “Have you looked upon the demon world?”

Salar’s throat tightened. He shook his head, barely trusting his voice. “Why would I ever do that?” he managed, his words barely more than a whisper before he forced them louder, desperate to sound convincing.

Forfar drew back, frowning. “Why indeed?” he echoed, his tone heavy with suspicion. “We Eldric have lived in exile here for two centuries. We left our homeland to escape this very darkness. Demons are evil, Salar. Dealing with them only leads to war. They demand souls–there’s no other price. Would you really condemn someone to eternal agony in their world? For what gain?” His words hissed through the air, chilling and final.

A cold cramp twisted in Salar’s gut. Forfar could report his slip to their masters, and then Salar would face their wrath as well. He pictured himself cast out, shivering at the thought. “Of course not!” he snapped, fear sharpening his tone. He braced for Forfar’s denunciation, but it never came. Instead, the tension eased as Forfar continued.

“We are friends, you and I. Listen to me: distance yourself from Lothanal. If you don’t, you’ll share his fate.”

Forfar’s stare bore into him, filling Salar with shame. But he couldn’t betray his master–not yet. “What will happen to him?” Salar asked, softening his voice, hoping to sound contrite.

Forfar’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Today, we’ll draw a rune–one that will turn any spell Lothanal casts back on himself. He’ll be utterly powerless, unless he’s willing to destroy himself.”

Salar nodded. “I’ll dress and then join you.” His thoughts in turmoil he swept up a sock, but the shaking of his hands prevented him from putting it on. He dropped it, cursing softly and trying to still the beating of his heart as he gasped for a breath that seemed to take an age to come.

Lothanal sat rigidly on the bench, his back pressed against the cold stone wall. The unyielding surface beneath him had long since numbed his legs, and the absence of even a thin cushion felt like a deliberate insult. Thoughts churned in his mind–fragmented, chaotic, impossible to untangle. Most men, trapped in a cell like this, would have been crushed by the darkness and damp. But Lothanal’s mind burned with anger, not despair.

Yet beneath that anger, fear gnawed at him. Something was wrong–deeply wrong. He felt hollow, as if his very soul had been torn away. Had it returned to him after the blast? He could find out, if only he had his spells. He could fix this emptiness, but he’d need his kara-stone. The extra power was essential. He didn’t trust the demons’ magic–not for something this vital. For now, he forced himself to relax. His soul was safe, at least for the moment. As long as he stayed alive–and he had no intention of dying–he could deal with the rest later.

A sudden flicker of movement caught his eye. A guard appeared at the door, face twisted in a smug sneer.

“Stop that damn noise!” the guard barked, voice echoing off the stone.

Lothanal blinked, genuinely confused. “What noise?” he asked, his tone honest, almost pleading.

“That infernal humming.” The guard’s eyes narrowed, locking onto Lothanal’s. It was a challenge, daring him to speak again. Lothanal’s fists clenched. He wanted nothing more than to wipe that look from the guard’s face. How dare this man stand there, gloating over his confinement? He would make them all pay. But before he could respond, the guard turned and disappeared down the corridor.

Left alone, Lothanal’s thoughts drifted back to recent events. He had learned much about demons over the years–most of it self-taught, all of it dangerous. He knew now that elementals were spirits, or more precisely, sprites born of this world. His people could summon them, coaxing them to perform small feats of magic.

Elementals were insignificant, but demons were far more powerful. Lothanal vividly recalled summoning his first imp–an experience both exhilarating and dangerous. Even as a minor demon, the imp’s power far surpassed that of elementals.

It was only a year ago. Lothanal remembered being alone in his laboratory, the air thick with anticipation. In front of him, a fire elemental danced in a frenzied spiral–a tiny flame, barely contained, spinning wildly within the chalk rune etched on the tabletop.

An ancient text lay open beside him. He traced a finger along a line, lips moving in silent incantation. Carefully, he drew a rune in the air, every motion precise. The book had promised: with the right conduit, an imp could be summoned.

Suddenly, the air shifted. There was no sound, no warning–just a ripple, and then the imp was there. Lothanal froze. The creature, eyes screwed tightly shut against the glare of summer sunlight streaming through the windows, seemed as startled as he was. Dust motes shimmered in the light, swirling in rhythm with the elemental’s dance.

Lothanal forced himself to move, tracing the spell of binding with deliberate calm. But before he could finish, the imp shrieked–a piercing, unnatural sound–and hurled itself at him. Its eyes, blinded by the brightness, missed their mark. Lothanal toppled backward, throwing the book up as a shield. Talons tore through the leather cover. Heart pounding, he screamed the final words of the confinement spell.

The imp stopped mid-air, wings thrashing, its gaze burning with pure hatred. It glared at Lothanal, as if offended by the very act of being summoned.

Lothanal’s heart hammered in his chest. The imp’s scream still echoed in his ears–so loud, surely someone must have heard. He stared at the door, waiting for it to burst open. Nothing happened. He exhaled, shaky with relief. Beside him, the elemental guttered out, its death cry a faint whisper compared to the imp’s furious wail.

Only then did Lothanal realise how unprepared he’d been. The ancient text had warned: the summoning must be perfect, every detail exact–including the binding which he had left far too late. He’d nearly paid the price for his arrogance.

For a time, he stared at the imp, and it glared back with such intense hatred that Lothanal could barely meet its eyes. It was small and hairless, apart from a single mane of green hair running down its back. Its skin was like that of a newborn mouse–pale, almost translucent, and stretched taut over thin, wiry limbs. Its jaws gaped open, lined with rows of sharp, razor-like teeth.

The imp’s fingers ended in wickedly curved claws, twitching in restless agitation. Its eyes, deep-set and sulfurous yellow, flickered with malice under the harsh sunlight, and its nostrils flared with each quick, shallow breath. A faint, acrid odour clung to the creature, reminiscent of scorched herbs and burnt copper, adding to its unsettling presence.

The imp continually struggled to escape, forcing him to exert increasing effort and power to keep it contained. As he summoned more elementals, he listened to their death cries as they perished one after another. His fear grew with each passing moment, worried that if his own powers ran out, the imp would break free–and judging by its hostile glare, he doubted he’d be able to defend himself.

He was surprised and incredibly relieved when after a while the imp simply vanished. He realised that their time in his world was limited. Once gone the air felt cleaner and a shadow fell from his heart.

His thoughts snapped back to the present, anger simmering beneath the surface. The loss of his kara-stone gnawed at him–a crucial piece, stolen just when he needed it most. Years spent acquiring it, months deciphering the secrets of the demon world, all undone in a moment. He’d watched that world from afar, but the final step required a face-to-face meeting. Now, everything was at risk.

Had the imp betrayed him? The suspicion burned. He couldn’t risk breaking out of confinement unless he was absolutely certain of the imp’s loyalty. The consequences of a mistake were too great. His temper flared, a restless energy building in his chest. Without realising, he began to hum–a low, tense sound. A sudden movement at the cell door caught his eye: his jailer glared through the bars, eyes narrowed with suspicion. Lothanal forced himself into silence, watching as the guard’s face vanished from view.

This was intolerable. He needed answers. Tracing a rune on the stone floor, he whispered, “Salar! Are you there?”

A faint reply drifted back, barely audible. “Master, I can hear you.”

“What’s happening? Are they going to banish me?” Lothanal’s voice trembled with urgency.

“Certainly. But that’s not the real problem.”

Lothanal’s heart skipped. “What do you mean? Tell me.”

“They’re drawing a rune today–one that will prevent you from casting spells. They say it will turn any spell back on the caster…”

Lothanal’s breath caught. “What? Is that even possible?”

“Says Stephan. He’s in charge. I must go–someone’s watching me,” Salar mumbled, voice fading.

Shock drained the blood from Lothanal’s face. His heart pounded, panic rising. He’d been so sure banishment was the worst he’d face. Now, escape was his only option.

Rising, Lothanal moved to his cell door. The small square opening allowed the guard to watch him, but offered little view of the outside. He strained to listen instead–muffled voices, footsteps, the scrape of a chair. There must be a sizeable guard posted, ready for any escape attempt.

He needed to think. Dropping onto the bench, a sudden idea flashed in his mind–brilliant, desperate. He traced a rune and whispered into the darkness, “Salar. Salar…”

Silence.

With a deft motion, he drew the rune again, sharper this time. “Salar!”

A faint whisper answered, urgent and strained. “Speak swiftly, master.”

“You must alter the rune so it’s undetectable. Use a dead scanth–replace a dot anywhere in the rune with the insect.”

A pause. “A scanth?” Salar sounded stunned.

“Just do it!” Lothanal hissed. The link severed, vanishing instantly.

Lothanal leaned back, tension coiling in his chest. Salar had to succeed–if not, Lothanal’s spell-casting days were finished. The scanth was a masterstroke: a flaw in the rune would defeat it, but the body of a dead insect was even better. He could control that, especially with his ties to the demons. Keep it simple, he always told Salar. Never overcomplicate. That was the mistake his enemies were making. A complex rune was far harder to achieve than simply putting him to death–and that’s what they should have done. It’s what he would have done, in their place.

The scanth, small, black and shiny, from a few paces away, would easily be mistaken for part of a rune. Or was he kidding himself? All that night, doubt gnawed at Lothanal and sleep was a long time in coming. Stephan’s comments that his shaol had betrayed him kept going through his mind. He was determined to find out what a shaol was.

Damn them all! He would survive!