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curseoftheundeadraven · 2 years ago

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From Within Two Prisons

Part One

Male monster x female protagonist

NSFW

(I would really appreciate some feedback if there is anything I could improve on. Thank you!)

I am unsure how or why I descended the dungeon stairs with so little fear but descend I did. My fingertips slid effortlessly across the cool stone walls as I breathed in the scent of damp earth and moss, but it was interlaced with a more repugnant aroma. Quinn had been entrusted with guard duty and his general disdain for such assignments and penchant for falling asleep at any opportunity granted me the chance to proceed undetected. Silently, I ventured further into the depths, my senses attuned to every sound and shadow.

Peering into each cell, being careful to tread lightly, my expectations were met as all of the cells were empty. Even King Jasper, notorious for his apathy, deemed this place unfit for human habitation. Yet, it was not human life that compelled me to travel to such a place.

Eventually, I rounded a corner and encountered a cell fair larger than the others, standing alone at the end of a desolate hallway. A shiver traveled down my spine, though some part of me still thought the other maids surely were playing a joke on me, thinking me naive. Perhaps I was, or perhaps I was so incredibly lost in the exhaustive nothingness that was my life any chance at something interesting was worth looking into.

Drawing nearer, the realization dawned upon me that I had indeed stumbled upon something truly captivating. A dark blue figure perched upon a worn wooden bench within the cell gradually came into focus. The creature possessed a striking feature, impossible to ignore—a magnificent set of wings, nearly black, adorned with hues of deep blue and interwoven with scattered patches of dark purple. Yet, it surpassed any avian comparison in sheer enormity, likely almost twice my own size. It was not solely composed of blue feathers. Towards its face, a patch of grayish skin emerged, contrasting the vibrant plumage. Its feet bore imposing claws, each talon a force to be reckoned with, while its hands exhibited a semblance of human form, the feathers receding along the back of its palms.

"Bumbling humans, deluded by your self-perceived mightiness," mocked a shrill, almost metallic voice, piercing the air. Startled, I nearly leapt from my skin, a surge of fear coursing through me. I had never anticipated encountering a creature that could speak.

"I... I don't consider myself mighty," I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper. The creature abruptly lifted its head, granting me a glimpse of its face—a surprising mix of human and avian features. Dark feathers extended down its sharp nose, its features angular and pointed, accentuated by piercing white eyes. After a moment of silence, I somehow found the courage to inquire, albeit awkwardly, "You... can talk?"

The creature sneered, mocking my own voice with shocking accuracy though in a twisted, distorted tone. "You can talk?"

An indignant huff escaped my lips as I retorted, "There's no need to be rude," while the creature observed me, tilting its head in curiosity. "Though, I suppose I'd be rather sour if I were trapped down here..."

"Did you merely come to gawk at me?" it snapped, its voice laced with a mix of anger and frustration.

"Oh, no, absolutely not!" I hastily defended myself, feeling remorseful for my unintentional staring. "I apologize if it seemed that way…” I added sheepishly. I didn't mean to gawk...but he was truly remarkable. I had never beheld such beauty before. I could only imagine how his feathers would shine in the light...

"Why have you ventured into this place?" he demanded, his voice rough yet tinged with curiosity.

I confessed, "There's a rumor circulating about you... that the king has captured some... being of sorts." I chose my words carefully, not wanting to say anything unkind. He scoffed dismissively.

"Just what I needed," he sneered, disdain coating his words, "a swarm of bothersome humans sneaking down here to pester me." I approached his cell, raising my hands.

"I'm sorry. I didn't consider that. Would you like me to refute the rumors…so no one else disturbs you?" I offered, my gaze locked on his face, attempting to discern his reaction.

"I've had enough encounters with humans to know their words hold no weight," he hissed, his voice dripping with venom, each syllable burning through the air. I paused, contemplating his bitter response.

Then, in a delicate yet sincere tone, I asked him, "Have you ever encountered anyone named Analise?" His gaze lingered on me, his pupils contracting. I straightened my posture, nervously rubbing the inside of my palm with my thumb.

"No, I haven't. What does that have to do with anything?" he replied, curiosity mingling with the remnants of his earlier hostility. I shrugged lightly.

"It means you can't assume I'm like all the other humans," I responded, a faint smile gracing my lips. I continued, "Oh! I apologize, I never asked for your name." I awaited a response in silence, but none came. "...I can give you a nickname if you'd like."

"Nyka..." he finally uttered, the word trailing off as he muttered something about my being a nuisance.

"Nyka. I like that," I said, repeating the name softly. Then, searching for the right words, I asked, "So, what kind of creature are you?"

"What do you think?" he countered, in a tone that made it clear he expected a certain response.

"Well, many of the staff believe you might be a demon, but I know that's not the case," I replied confidently.

"And how do you know that?" he inquired.

"Demons are supposed to be terrifying, purely evil creatures. You, on the other hand, aren't like that. Though you are undoubtedly intimidating, you're not scary," I stated, nodding in affirmation. I witnessed a look of utter disbelief cross his face.

"Right," he said sarcastically, averting his gaze. Slowly, I approached his cell, my hands wrapping around the chilling steel bars, determined to prove the honesty of my statement. He turned to face me, briefly taken aback before shaking his head. Then, he stepped off the wooden bench, rising to his full, towering height. He stood before me, an immense figure nearly seven feet tall, body strong and muscular. Feathers adorned his form, leaving his chest bare, while his lower half was concealed by pants. Not that I cared about such details. He wore a scowl, anticipating my recoil, yet I remained rooted in place, my mouth agape, awestruck by his commanding presence.

"You... you're... wow, I mean... you're just incredible," I managed to babble, my cheeks flushing crimson. He lowered his face, drawing closer to mine, studying me intently. Then, as if struck by a notion, he reached toward my face, his massive hand cupping my jaw, tilting my head upward. He simply stared, his pupils dilating and contracting rapidly, while I could feel the heat rise in my cheeks. His touch evoked something within me, a magnetic pull. I yearned to run my hands along his magnificent wings.

"Not the slightest bit of fear…you are an oddity, aren't you?" he mused, his tone causing my stomach to flutter.

I didn't linger for long, fearful of irritating Nyka, and my nervousness only intensified with each passing minute. It took me a few days to find an opportunity to sneak back in. When I did, I was extra cautious, my apron filled with provisions. If a single item fell at the wrong moment, I would surely be caught. Approaching his cell, I could see Nyka immediately perking up as he caught sight of me. He stood and walked toward the bars.

"Okay, so I probably should have asked what you eat, but I brought whatever I could," I explained to a bewildered Nyka. Awkwardly, I held out my apron, offering him the food I had brought. He eyed me for a moment before reaching out to grab what I had offered, then settled on the ground. I followed suit, a wide grin on my face as I fought the urge to bounce up and down with excitement.

We sat in silence, and I allowed him to enjoy the food while I studied his figure and the mesmerizing beauty of his feathers. Occasionally, I caught myself staring a bit too much and quickly averted my gaze, nerves getting the best of me. After a while, he finished everything I had brought, and we locked eyes in silence.

Finally, he spoke, his voice filled with uncertainty, "Thank you," as if still questioning the reality of the situation.

"I figured they aren't feeding you much, but I'm not sure how often I can do this without risking punishment," I admitted.

"Are you a maid or something?" he inquired.

"...or something. I'm a servant, similar to being a maid…but not by choice," I replied quietly.

"Why?"

"To repay a debt that is not mine," I stated grimly, not wishing to delve into the details. It was a topic I preferred to avoid.

"Can't you escape?" he asked.

"I've witnessed enough failed attempts to know better. It's nearly impossible. Perhaps if I were as big as you I’d have a chance” I chuckled softly.

This routine continued for two weeks. Each day, our conversations grew more extensive, and each day, Nyka's demeanor warmed toward me. He even allowed me to touch his wings, which proved to be incredibly silky to the touch. I had developed a habit of reaching out to him whenever I could, whether it was grabbing his hand or touching his knee. At first, it startled him, but he quickly grew accustomed to my gestures.

"Do you know why they are holding you here? What their plans are?" I asked one day. His body slumped, and he hung his head.

"No, though whatever it is, my chances of survival are dubious," he mumbled grimly. A knot formed in my stomach that was nearly painful as I gripped the bars so tightly my knuckles turned white. I stared at his dejected figure, desperately grasping for any way I could help. I swore to myself then and there that I would find a way.

I hurriedly made my way down to Nyka's cell one fateful night, the darkness filling the corridors. The hour was so late that it was nearly morning.

"Nyka, I have a way to find out," I blurted out, causing his head to snap up in surprise. Though accustomed to my appearances, the urgency in my voice caught him off guard. He rose from where he sat and approached, his eyes filled with confusion.

"Find out...?" he questioned, his gaze fixed on me as I gripped the bars, standing on tiptoes to get closer.

"What they have planned for you," I explained breathlessly. He recoiled slightly, his expression shifting to a mix of disbelief and resignation. After a moment, he sighed and reached out to gently tousle my hair as sadness flickered in his eyes.

"How?" he asked, his voice tinged with dejection. I was reluctant to tell him the truth. I feared his reaction and the burden of guilt it might place upon him.

The truth was, I had a connection with one of the king's sons.

Prince Edgar, the second eldest, in his late twenties, was known for his... affectionate nature. While he wouldn't openly admit it, he had been involved with several female servants in the past that acted as his mistresses. Although this arrangement granted them better treatment, Prince Edgar was a drunk whose fondness faded fast, quickly tiring of the women.

"How?" he repeated, his eyes narrowing as his hand moved to cradle my chin, “…you don’t want to tell me…why?” He inquired in a stern voice. I froze, scrambling to find a more palatable explanation, one that would spare him from worry.

"...I fear you'll disapprove and try to dissuade me," I mumbled softly, unable to meet his gaze.

"Analise..." he growled suddenly, sending a shiver down my spine.

"I believe I can extract the information from one of the princes if I... play my cards right," I admitted before he recoiled, shock and disappointment etched on his face.

"You can't possibly—"

"No, no! Well, not if I can avoid it..." I sighed as he approached the cell once more. "He has tried to entice me into becoming one of his servants in the past. My intention is to feign consideration, suggesting we share some drinks together. Once he's suitably intoxicated, it shouldn't be difficult to extract the information I need."

"What if—"

"It will be fine, don't worry. I can handle myself," I asserted as confidently as I could muster, even as a pit formed in my stomach. I saw his mouth open, ready to argue, so in an attempt to divert his attention, I added playfully, "No need to get jealous," hoping to steer the conversation in another direction.

"My jealousy is not the primary reason I find this plan utterly disdainful—"

"So you admit to being jealous?" I interjected with a small grin. When our eyes met, I knew I had successfully diverted his focus. He looked at me with a longing that intensified, drawing closer. The silence that had consumed us seemed to last eons as he seemed to hesitate for a moment.

"If I were not confined to this cell, I would ensure you never desired another human lover again," he whispered in a low voice, avoiding eye contact. My entire body flushed with heat, and my breath caught in my throat. He studied me for a bit before he reached out, gently cupping my cheek, "You would like that, wouldn't you?" he murmured seductively, causing me to tremble. Unable to form coherent words, I nodded fervently, eliciting a chuckle from him.

He drew me closer until I stood right beside the bars of his cell. Bending down, he tenderly pressed his lips to mine, his hand entangled in my hair. After a moment, he pulled away, and my heart skipped a beat.

"Wait—" I called out, gripping his wrist. He looked at me with a slight smile, his eyes full of lust.

"And here I was afraid you might recoil from me," he said, inching closer once more. This time, his hands reached out, firmly grasping my hips and pulling me flush against the cell, our faces mere inches apart.

"Never," I whispered softly.

“...Perhaps I could please you more than any human man could even from in this cell,” he teased as a hand drifted down to my rear.

As our lips reunited, the sensation momentarily eclipsing the weight of his impending fate. The world around us dissolved into nothingness, leaving only the electric connection between us. With each passing second, his kisses grew more fervent, his lips grazing mine with a mixture of tenderness and desire.

As we kissed, he nipped at my bottom lip, a gesture that sent a surge of anticipation coursing through me. The feeling of his lips and his hands roaming my body ignited an indescribable ache deep within me. It was endlessly frustrating being separated so, able to kiss and touch but never in a way that would be enough. I was unsure if anything would be enough to quell the desire burning me to the core.

I pinched my thighs together as I felt myself growing more aroused, more desperate. I had wished for so long to feel his touch and it was just as enchanting as I had imagined it to be. Sliding his hands lower still, Nyka began to pull at my skirt and without hesitation I aided him in hiking it up. The moment the chance presented itself his hand slipped into my underwear, a small, gravely moan escaping his lips as we kissed again. He ran a finger over my clit and I whimpered.

“So wet, so quickly,” he chuckled, “you’re going to have to be quiet, can you do that?” He questioned and I frantically nodded, “good girl,” he whispered as he ran his thumb over my bottom lip before leaning back in to meet me in a kiss once more. As he did so he began to draw agonizingly slow circles on my clit as I squeezed the bars that separated us.

His touch ignited trails of electricity along my skin. He was strong and possessive. His free hand roamed my body with an insatiable hunger, seeking to claim every inch of me.

I surrendered myself to the allure of his touch as I felt more alive than I knew was possible. Soft moans escaped from my lips as every inch of my being begged for more.

“It’s not enough,” I whined as he began groping my breasts and teasing my nipples. As I felt two of his fingers press against my entrance a shiver coursed through me. He pushed them in at an agonizingly slow pace, but one I was grateful for as my body had to stretch to accommodate them. I gasped as he curled his fingers inside of me before pulling out and repeating the process. Nyka groaned, rutting against the bars.

“So tight, I’ll break free just to feel your pussy stretching around my cock,” he said as he slowly pushed them all the way in. My face burned, I had never indulged such vulgar language but hearing him say it electrified me, and I wanted more.

“Nyka,” I moaned as I began to be consumed by pleasure. He cursed under his breath as he began to pick up speed.

“Do you like it when I say such things? Like how badly I want to taste you and explore every inch of you…gently and slowly, just to fuck you hard and rough, making you cum until you can’t think straight…”

The struggle to remain silent became more and more challenging as waves of pleasure surged through my body. I fought to suppress the sounds that threatened to escape my lips, but struggled. He tenderly cupped my face, his touch both comforting and commanding.

"Sweet girl," he whispered softly, his voice dripping with desire, "though I yearn to hear the sounds of your pleasure, you must contain them. Cover your mouth, tightly," he instructed, his tone gentle yet firm.

I followed his command, pressing my hand against my face, determined to obey.

In that moment, as I surrendered to his whispered instructions, I felt a kind of intimacy I could have never imagined. His eyes, dark with desire, locked onto mine, silently conveying the depths of his longing.

With sudden fervor he picked up his pace, roughly fucking me with his fingers. I could hear the noises of my arousal and reached out, clinging to him in any way possible, attempting to keep myself afloat as I was flooded with such intense pleasure

I watched as Nyka rubbed his groin against the bars of his cell, desperate to get friction, to be freed and find purchase inside of me. It was completely overwhelming, my mind solely able to focus on him, how badly I needed him. He began stroking my clit and I could help but pull my hand away from my mouth.

“D-don’t stop, please d - fuck,” I whimpered as quietly as I could.

“I’d fuck you until sunrise if I could,” he stated before kissing me again. I felt tension gathering inside me as my mind started to become hazy, electricity coursing through me with increasing intensity. I covered my mouth again as I felt myself getting closer to the edge. I started erotically thrusting my hips against the bars as he continued to relentlessly finger my tight pussy. Nyka tangled his hand in my hair and pulled slightly, staring into my eyes with all consuming lust.

“Such a good girl, go on. I want to watch you cum for me,” he ordered in a sweet tone, which was my undoing. It felt as though the building electricity finally crescendoed as my eyes rolled back into my head. I pressed my lips together so tightly it nearly hurt. My mind was spinning, unraveling. Pleasure coursed through my veins as I knew he was right, I would never want a human lover again.

It took me some time to regain my footing in reality as I stood there attempting to catch my breath. But I wasn’t done, once he had licked his fingers clean I grabbed his hips once again. With one hand I slowly moved to stroke his clothed cock, looking up at him with desperate eyes. He stared back at me, nearly in awe, as he slowly moved to pull down his pants. I assisted as much as I could and though part of me was overwhelmed by its sheer size and girth another, much stronger part of me, yearned to give him the limitless

pleasure I had just experienced. I wrapped my hand around his length, which I couldn’t entirely grasp, slowly pumping up and down. I whimpered as I pulled his face towards me, kissing him greedily. It was then Nyka’s turn to try and maintain silence as he bucked into my hand, a deep moan escaping his lips.

“Someone’s eager,” he breathed out. I watched as his eyes widened when I began to dip lower, sitting down on my knees. I stared at him, how massive he was, and perhaps I would have been more hesitant had my entire essence not been consumed by my desire for him – as though it was my sole purpose. I licked the head of his shaft, tasting the precum that had begun to leak out. He groaned, gaze filled with an insatiable hunger, a testimony to his overwhelming lust.

“Perhaps you should cover your mouth,” I teased as I swirled my tongue around his head again.

“Perhaps,” he gasped out as I traced my tongue up the length of his shaft before slowly attempting to take his cock into my mouth. The stretch nearly hurt my jaw, but I was determined. His hand tangled in my hair as he rutted forward, his cock suddenly hitting the back of my throat. I moaned around his length, feeling that familiar electricity throughout my body, as my eyes met his. I silently begged him to go on, to use my mouth for his own pleasure and after some hesitation he pulled out before slowly plunging back in, hitting the back of my throat again. He began to create a rhythm, his eyes never leaving mine. I held onto the bars as saliva began to drip from my mouth.

Nyka's teeth clenched, as he fiercely battled his own desires. It was undeniable that his longing for me mirrored my own, an all-consuming force that bound us together. The touch of his hand in my hair and the feeling of his shaft on my tongue was perfect. In that moment this overwhelming passion became my purpose, my reason for being. Nyka, with his intoxicating presence, became the embodiment of my everything.

He released me momentarily, allowing me to catch my breath.

“Please,” I begged, “I want to make you feel good…I want to taste you,” I confessed.

“Everything about you makes me feel good,” he whispered, wiping some of the tears that had collected around my eyes, “I’m going to take you, some day. I’m going to fuck you as though I am dying and you are the only cure,” he promised in a low growl as he moved my head towards his cock again.

He began thrusting harder and with more speed. I did my best not to gag, not to make any noise too loud. I felt how wet I was growing once again, being used by him a sensation nearly too alluring. That feeling was not aided as he whispered sweet praises to me while he used my mouth. Eventually his thrusts became more erratic and sloppy as he held back his animalistic noises to the best of his abilities. I looked up, meeting his eyes and his grip on my hair tightened. Throwing his head back he nicked a few more times, his cum filling my mouth and gushing down my throat. Even his taste filled me with a great need for him, swallowing as he pulled out. I wiped off a small drop that had spilled onto my lips, sucking my finger clean.

As I stood he extended his hand towards my cheek, his gaze soft.

"I yearn for nothing more than to embrace you, to break free from this cruel confinement," he confessed, his voice laced with longing.

A quiet resolve swelled within me, and I responded, "I shall make it so," I promised. He looked at me with such powerful affection that it made my stomach flip. Our lips converged once more, a kiss that brimmed with tenderness. A fire had been lit within me, and I would stop at nothing to fan the flames.

#monster boyfriend #monster romance #monster lover #monster stories #monster story #monster x human #short story #monster fic #terato #exophilia

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curseoftheundeadraven · 2 years ago

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Demons and Dandelions, Part Two

part one is here!

(both are sfw)

Summary: Slowly, Cedar and Ashir's fondness for each other continues to grow. All the while, Cedar is still troubled by nightmares as she begins the fight to reconnect with her purpose and work through her grief.

I wish I could say that was the end of Ashir’s...misbehavior. Even after such a display, he remained callous more often than not, his mind still seemingly screaming that this was simply all a trick. I could sympathize with one’s mind being clouded so. His occasional acts of nocturnal kindness continued, though they were back to just being given tea – often accompanied by grumbling and complaints. His torment remained little more than a harmless annoyance though at times his biting remarks still drew blood. Yet I could see it on his face each time, that his venom was nearly reflexive, something he had begun to display clear guilt over. Despite his slightly volatile nature, I found some comfort in the fact that my nightmares had waned somewhat, granting me moments of respite from the twisted memories that plagued my sleep.

Furthermore, I finally summoned the courage to read Miera’s letter, though I nearly couldn’t bring myself to complete it. Her words reverberated in my mind day in and day out as I went about my usual routine.

“You are drowning, yet still refuse to swim. You will only sink deeper until you find your resolve”.

The weight of her message hung heavily upon me, a constant reminder of the choices I had yet to make.

Of course, to further add to my unrest, there was an unexpected surge in visitors to the forest, much to Ashir’s dismay. This wasn’t uncommon, certain times of the year often led more people to my door seeking remedies or wards of some kind. He despised their intrusion, but fortunately, refrained from bothering them. Save a few times, such as when he took the form of a hawk and cawed loudly every time I opened my mouth to speak, much to the amusement of the startled guests. And the bemusement of my patience.

Early on a crisp autumn morning, a resounding knock reverberated at my door—a knock that felt more like an intrusive pounding. With a slight sense of urgency, I hurried downstairs, my steps echoing in my wake. As I reached the door, I discovered Ashir peering curiously through the drapes. Waving him away, I opened the door to behold a man of towering stature, his visage a canvas of pale skin adorned with freckles and scars. His red locks were messily secured in a bun and his arms staunchly crossed.

“Oh, please come in,” I extended the door wider and welcomed him as I spoke. However my attention was quickly stolen when I turned to discover that a cat had made its home on my island counter, sitting up and watching, tail swaying back and forth. A white feline, with black paws and beady black eyes. With a determined and annoyed glare, I attempted to shoo Ashir off the counter, but he defiantly hissed and held his ground.

“That’s an odd-looking cat,” the man remarked in a deep, gravelly voice, breaking the silence. His voice was full of intrigue but he caused me to startle ever so slightly.

“Ah, well,” I began as I searched for an explanation, “…it would be quite peculiar for a witch to have an ordinary pet, wouldn't it?' The man’s expression remained unchanged and I continued with an idea forming in my mind, “He's truly a wonderful companion. His name is... Muffin,' I declared as I threw a smug smile Ashir’s way, 'Isn't that right, Muffin? Although I affectionately call him Muffy.' A playful, or perhaps demeaning, baby voice accompanied my words – much to Ashir's dismay. His fur stood on end as he shot me a look that proved my success in getting under his skin.

Maintaining my pleasant demeanor, I guided my guest towards a seat at the table. However, he shook his head, opting instead to remain standing, arms still crossed and expression still cold.

"What can I do for you?" I inquired. He remained silent for a moment, his eyes scanning the room, taking in the array of jars and bottles that adorned the shelves. While he observed his surroundings, I took the opportunity to study him. His clothing had clearly seen much wear and tear but held up regardless. A formidable knife hung at his waist, and a massive backpack weighed heavily on his shoulders. My eyes immediately found the crossbow strapped to it and I noticed a copious amount of rope. As I took a step closer I gazed at his scars to find that a majority of them were slashes, typically three to four scars running parallel to each other. Panic fluttered within me as I realized my spellbook was still upstairs. A chill crept over me and my heart quickened its pace. I discreetly ensured that my arcane focus was on my person, although a nagging voice in the back of my mind warned me that it did not matter.

"I wanted to have a discussion about the unique creatures that inhabit this forest," he finally spoke, and in an instant, my smile vanished. But, I took a deep breath, forced my smile to return, and replied,

"Are you referring to the arcane fauna?" There was a glimmer of hope within me, but deep down, I knew my suspicions were well-founded.

“Do you take care of this whole forest on your own? I imagine it’s difficult…” he said as he narrowed his eyes. I heard a distinctly feline growl coming from behind me though it felt more aimed at me than anything.

"I hold a deep love for this forest, its care could never burden me," I responded, my hands fidgeting with my skirt. The corners of the man’s mouth curled the slightest bit.

He fixed his eyes on me and asked, "What price would you charge to allow someone to perform a little…population control in this forest?"

"I would never allow such a thing, especially not profit from it. These aren’t your everyday rabbits and squirrels, they are not to be hunted,” I stated firmly.

"Oh, come on, surely you have once or twice,” he insisted, resting his hands on his hips.

"No. Nor did my predecessor. Nor did hers,” I reiterated sternly.

"Everything has a price,” he continued smoothly, in a sly tone.

"Clearly not," I retorted, resting my hands in the pockets of my dress. My hand wrapped around my arcane focus, though I desperately wanted to let go. My hand began to tremble. He tutted and shook his head.

"Perhaps it would be wise for you to make an exception," he suggested, and in that moment, the only sounds that could be heard were two steps forward, two steps back, and the increasingly agitated growls of a demonic ‘cat’.

"And why should I?" I challenged, though my voice came out weak.

"It would make things much easier for both of us," he replied, and with each deliberate step he took, my heart threatened to burst from my chest. Doubt, a kind all too familiar, raced through my mind. I had faced hellhounds, yet now, without my spellbook, I felt as though I was on the verge of fainting. I was useless, and with something that should be innate or as easy as breathing, which was what Marcia would always say. Suppressing my trembling, I pointed my wand at the hunter, the room falling into an eerie silence. Despite my fear, a surge of anger, aimed at myself, coursed through me. I had to prove to myself that I hadn’t truly lost all of my strength. And I certainly didn't want a snarky demon to witness to my failure.

"Not another step," I stammered, my voice wavering. He disregarded my plea and pressed forward, taking two more audacious steps. I attempted to focus on his energy, his Spirit, as I retreated further.

Just as easy as breathing, just as easy as breathing just as…

Two more steps forward. I strained to draw in energy, but regardless of how desperately I tried it slipped through my grasp like sand.

"You're welcome to change your mind," he taunted, shrugging indifferently. I shook my head, my resolve unwavering. He reached for something attached to his belt and hurled it in my direction—a dart, likely infused with a tranquilizer or paralytic. Perhaps one I could concoct myself. Reflexively shutting my eyes and turning my head, I managed to draw up enough of my own Spirit to form a small shield in front of me, the dart bouncing off of the wall of golden energy. When I opened my eyes, I was met with the sight of the hunter lunging toward me. But then, he abruptly stopped, jerking back as a garbled choking sound escaped his throat. I glanced up, and there was Ashir, in his true form, gripping the back of the hunter's shirt. The man turned to face Ashir.

"How's this for odd-looking?" Ashir hissed, his voice dripping with malice. Instinctively, I covered my ears as Ashir emitted a shrill roar. I do not know if I’ve ever witnessed a full-grown man soil himself, but in that moment at least got very close. The hunter, too stunned to scream, began to flail about desperately, struggling to break free from Ashir's grasp. Ashir released him, and without putting up a fight, the man scrambled towards the door, nearly tripping over himself in his haste.

As he turned to look at me, Ashir seemed on the verge of saying some harsh reprimand. However, when our eyes met, he paused, shook his head, and vanished into thin air.

After that day, Ashir's presence became less frequent, but this time it was a consequence of my own actions. Determined to break free from the suffocating rut I had found myself in, I sought solace in the basement whenever I could. Desperately seeking answers, I delved into our collection of books on our form of magic, even though I had already scoured their contents years ago as an apprentice. My search yielded little assistance, leaving me feeling disheartened and adrift.

Amidst my futile attempts, my gaze was often drawn to the arcane focus that had been passed down through generations since the time of the First.

"What is that?" Ashir's voice jolted me from my book, and I glanced up to find the lanky, four-armed demon fixated on the rapier.

"Don't touch it," I warned, my tone firm. Ashir's expression twisted with annoyance as he awaited an explanation, "It's an arcane focus, wielded by every witch before being passed down to her successor,” I divulged as my shoulders slumped slightly.

"Like the wand you possess?" Ashir inquired, his curiosity evident.

"Yes," I confirmed, my voice tinged with a hint of resignation. Ashir’s four sets of eyes squinted in my direction.

"Then why don't you use this one?" He probed further, his gaze unwavering.

"Because..." I sighed, closing my book in defeat. "I'm not... I don't..." I stumbled over my words, my eyes shifting to the rapier that had been hanging untouched on the wall for the past two years. The weapon exuded an ethereal quality, a testament to centuries of channeling Spirit.

“You what?” Ashir said, his voice heavy with impatience. I set the book down on my desk before rising and crossing my arms. I didn’t meet his gaze, opting to stare at the floor.

"It's an invaluable heirloom, crafted by the First after her original staff was destroyed in her valiant battle to protect our forest," I explained. My hand instinctively rose, clutching the necklace I wore around my neck, adorned with a crystal shard. I considered clarifying but decided against it. Rediscovering the staff two years ago didn't alter the narrative significantly. In the end, the staff was still lost, except for the fragment I held in my palm.

"But you are meant to wield it, aren't you?" Ashir persisted, his gaze piercing into my soul when I finally looked to meet it. I pressed my lips together, contemplating his question. I felt dread consuming me, each breath slightly harder to pull into my lungs.

"Are you asking because you are truly curious or because you’d like me to admit my unworthiness aloud?” I countered, shifting my gaze from him to the rapier on the wall, my grip on the crystal shard tightening. The weight of the arcane focus' legacy bore down on me, a constant reminder of my own inadequacies. The shard served as a haunting memento of the consequences resulting from those very shortcomings.

Gradually, I came to accept the futility of my research. In its stead, I turned to meditation in the depths of the woods, amidst the abundance of wildlife that usually would be unwelcome distractions during meditation. I would lose myself for hours, attempting to attune myself to the Spirit that flowed through the flora and fauna surrounding me. However, progress proved to be slow and attempts to connect to the energy within these words remained arduous, as if attempting to catch a fleeting breeze with outstretched hands. The process demanded patience and perseverance beyond measure, not even Ashir could have plagued me so.

Deeper into the fall I had a reason to feel renewed excitement.

“You want me to go…stare at the sky with you?” questioned Ashir as I donned my cloak.

"This doesn't happen often, it’s a remarkable event! Come on, join me," I called out to Ashir, waiting by the doorway.

"Do all humans have such a fascination with the moon?" he retorted in a belittling tone, walking towards me with one set of arms crossed and the other resting at his sides.

“Do all demons have such a penchant for ruining the fun of others? Both of our moons will be crossing paths during a total lunar eclipse. They say, my predecessor, the very First, battled the dark entity that had corrupted this forest on a night such as this”.

Ashir scoffed, “Humans do love exaggerating their tales,” he said as he rolled his eyes before he gestured for me to go outside. I led the way, not bothering to humor his remark, as I walked to the side of the cottage.

Ashir took in the view for a moment, “Ah, I see. You only want me to help you get up there,” he concluded with a roll of his eyes. I shook my head.

"I go up there all the time. We have a ladder, but it's fairly pointless," I explained as I began to climb the large trellis that covered the wall, stretching over both stories of my home. Midway, I noticed Ashir watching me from below, and an unusually mischievous idea crossed my mind. I intentionally let my foot slip away from the trellis, reaching one hand out and leaning back slightly to create the illusion of losing my balance. I even added a cry of fear, expecting Ashir to see through it. Yet, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the imposing demon panic, calling out my name. Suppressing my laughter, I regained my footing and held on with both hands.

"What?" he called out from below.

"Now I really know your threats are empty. You've gone soft," I teased, unable to contain my laughter.

"I- I was merely yelling in disappointment – at your foolishness!" he snapped back defensively.

"No, no, admit it Ashir. You've gone from persecutor to protector-" I began, but before I could finish, I felt his arms wrap around me, and everything went dark momentarily before swiftly returning. I found myself on the roof as Ashir gently set me down, his face close to mine.

"How do you know, hm? How do you know this isn't an act and that this collar is the only reason you're still alive?" he growled, his words laced with skepticism. I immediately knew it was a bluff. I had witnessed him screech at me, threaten and insult me in countless ways. This was different.

I pondered momentarily about something that had been on my mind quite a bit these past two weeks. I had been hesitant before but any anxiety I had almost entirely disappeared in that moment. Reaching up slowly and deliberately I grabbed hold of his collar. To my surprise, the second my hand came into contact with the cool metal it began to glimmer with purple magic. I gave it a gentle tug and it opened with ease. As I withdrew my hands, pulling the collar off of him, I looked into Ashir's eyes and saw a kind of shock I did not know he was capable of portraying. His eyes were wide and his mouth hung open in disbelief. It seemed as though he could hardly even process what had just occurred. I allowed silence to envelop us like the cool night air as I stared at him expectantly. After he, in fact, did not rip my face off I gave him a small, only slightly smug smile.

"That’s how I know," I said confidently. He stood up straight, taking a step back, utterly speechless, and continuing to stare at me in awe.

“You are mad,” he breathed. I shrugged as I set the collar on the roof before I sat down. I looked at Ashir as I waited for him to follow suit.

We lay in silence, our gazes fixed upon the vast expanse of stars, an unknown abyss stretching out before us. The moon, magnified and tinged with a deep red, cast an almost warm glow over the forest. Time seemed to lose its grip on us as we remained there, lost in the beauty of it all. At least, that is what I was lost in. Ashir on the other hand, was growing restless, fidgeting and glancing at me occasionally.

Abruptly, he sat up, his words pouring out in a rush. "Why did you choose to show me empathy and kindness when all I ever offered you was venom and torment?” He froze suddenly, momentarily speechless until he hung his head, “…How can you treat a monster with such sweetness?" He asked in a quiet voice. He looked up at me and I saw that his face bore a desperate expression, something unlike anything I’d seen before. Eyes wide at his sudden outburst, I propped myself up on my elbows, facing him directly.

"You are not a monster," I affirmed, meeting his gaze. "You've been wounded and cornered, as such it is no surprise that you have learned to lash out. It wasn't something you taught yourself."

Ashir retorted, his voice filled with doubt, "You don't know that. Maybe I've always been this way."

"Not all demons are inherently evil," I countered gently.

"Some are…How did you know for certain that I wouldn't hurt you? Because I intervened when you failed to protect yourself from that man?" He asked. I thought about his question, taking a quiet moment of contemplation. The weight of his uncertainty hung in the air.

“No,” I began before I shifted my gaze to the roof beneath us, choosing my words carefully, “…someone evil wouldn’t have cradled me so delicately, as if I were a fragile flower, afraid of causing harm or fear”. He shook his head.

"I will never comprehend your unwavering kindness in the face of anger and hatred," he admitted, his tone tinged with disbelief.

"I cannot control the actions of others, nor can I force them to be good," I replied, my voice steady. "So I must embody goodness myself”.

He interjected, leaning forward so his elbows rested on his knees, “Surely you see your own naivety, that path will get you killed someday”. My eyes widened a tad, his scolding having taken me off guard. I mirrored him, sitting with my elbows on my knees as I rested my chin on my hands.

“My kindness does not mean I have removed my teeth. Push me far enough and I will act like a dog backed into a corner just the same” I explained, my eyes falling away from his towards the end of my sentence as I felt anxiety steal my breath, a familiar knot in my stomach returning. He eyed me skeptically.

“After what I have witnessed, you may not have removed your teeth but have clearly forgotten how to use them” he stated. I sighed and went back to lying down and staring at the moon.

Silence returned and Ashir eventually followed suit, lying down once more. I closed my eyes, listening to the wind dance through the trees. A chorus of creatures could be heard if you only took the time to listen closely. However, my mind shifted away from the forest. I opened my eyes and stared at Ashir’s collar. Eventually, I had to ask, doing so with cautious curiosity.

“Ashir?” I asked. His eyes met mine – a quiet acknowledgment, “Why have you been condemned to this punishment, to serve the will of others?”

"I disobeyed orders," Ashir replied, after what had felt like ages of contemplation. I raised my eyebrows

"You truly have a gift for storytelling," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "I know the answer will be heavy. I am prepared for that weight, “ I added, only the slightest bit annoyed as I knew he believed I couldn’t take such a thing.

With a deep sigh and a shake of his head, he began his tale. "There was a court, filled with human royalty. Some of the noblemen," he spat out the word with palpable disdain, "...despised the queen. I believe she kept them from amassing too much power. So, the men struck a deal with my master. They wanted him to take the soul of her beloved child, a little boy. But, not just that – they asked that they be able to witness his demise during some grand gathering," he explained as his voice grew venomous. I felt the weight of such a story pressing down on me as I stared with my mouth agape attempting to process it.

"So you refused?" I asked once I regained my composure. Ashir's laughter echoed, full of resentment. Yet I could hear the pain hidden within.

"Refusal alone would not have earned me such a punishment. No, when I saw them there, saw their sadistic anticipation, I was consumed by rage. If they could take joy in such a thing, I deemed that those men were unworthy of their souls," he replied, his voice tinged with a mix of hatred and pride. He continued, “And before you ask, I do not regret it”.

I studied his face, seeing if that was the truth. And it seemed it was partially so. I had another question, but I allowed him to sit there in contemplation as I feared I may be pushing him into discussing more than he desired to.

He was the one to break the silence, “Go on, ask already,” he insisted, his voice tinged by lingering sharpness. It startled me and I saw his gaze soften as he lowered his head, almost if he was offering an unspoken apology. I took in a breath.

"It wasn't your first attempt at escape, was it?" I asked, studying his face intently. His teeth clenched and shoulders tended before he replied.

"No," he said grimly. A heavy silence settled between us as I continued to observe him. His expression remained unyielding and he didn't speak again until I eventually returned my attention to the stars. Then he asked, his gaze now fixed on me, searching for answers, "How did you know?"

A chuckle escaped my lips, "...because you're a stubborn jerk," I jested. Though not looking at him directly, I knew he silently urged me to speak the truth. I let out a sigh, meeting his gaze, "...I could see it in your eyes. You were aware of the consequences that awaited you had you been caught”.

Ashir's gaze grew distant as he muttered, "...I'm sure it awaits me still. Such a wretched cycle-"

I sat up, determined to convey my seriousness. "I was serious, Ashir," I interjected, prompting him to sit up as well.

"About what?" he replied, his tone curious.

"I am going to find a way to free you," I declared firmly, emphasizing each word. Ashir gave me a skeptical, almost angry look, and our bickering commenced.

"You can't possibly-"

"I'm going to give it a try," I stated.

"It's futile," he retorted.

"I said I am going to-"

"You do not comprehend the gravity of this," he urged.

"Then I will educate myself. I will find a way," I insisted, standing my ground.

"You cannot,” he said, voice full of both disbelief and anger.

"You underestimate me”.

“You shouldn’t concern yourself with such things, you-“

"Why?" I demanded abruptly, raising my voice for the first time and bringing our debate to a halt. His eyes widened at my conviction.

The sounds of the forest seemed to become louder, rushing in to fill the silence, as the unanswered question hung in the air. Ashir and I sat there, our eyes locked, searching for understanding. The intensity of our conversation fizzled out as Ashir attempted to find words. But he didn’t need to. I knew the answer already.

“… It's dangerous –“ he began, finally. I glared at him, eyes demanding the truth. Time seemed to slow as his face fell, “I am not worth the risk,” he confessed.

“Why?” I asked, as gently as I could.

“Because, I am a worthless, wretched creature. I have ripped souls from bodies, oftentimes those who did not deserve it,”

“So you do not want to be freed?” I questioned in an even but dry tone.

“Of course I do –“ Ashir began before I interjected.

“You just do not want it to be with my help?” I questioned. Ashir leaned forward, bringing his face closer to mine. He stared into my eyes so intensely it sent a chill down my spine.

“I am tainted, my hands bloodied. Yet you, you are untouched by darkness. I will not allow you to sully your soul for my sake” Ashir responded in a definitive tone. I looked away, for I did not want him to see how much my heart ached for him – how deeply I felt his pain. But, I was not about to back down, so I grit my teeth and met his gaze.

“If freeing you from centuries worth of torment is an act that defiles my soul, I will gladly embrace the darkness. But I refuse to believe it will. You are not a leper, you committed dark acts to avoid an existence of agony. And in the end, you decided agony was a better fate than continuing on that path,” I said with firm finality. He backed away, looking around nervously, before his form vanished before my eyes. Our conversation ended as abruptly as it began. I heaved out a deep sigh before lying back down, my mind racing with thoughts and questions. A darkness began to fall over the forest like a blanket as clouds gathered in front of the moon. I couldn’t bring myself to climb back down, so I lay there until sleep came for me.

“Witch of the forest, wielder of Spirit” called a voice that seemed to hang in the air, an ethereal quality to it. I opened my eyes and was first greeted by the blood-red moon that seemed as if it may fall from the sky at any moment. I tried to sit up, but when I moved to push myself off of the roof it was not there. I looked around, to find I was floating in the air. The forest appeared as though it was partially dematerialized, fading into a dark void. Such a sight was quickly forgotten when my eyes landed on a figure that was nearly indescribable. It was a humanlike form but composed entirely of swirling, white Spirit. I could feel the power radiating off of the figure, my skin prickling, hairs standing on end.

“Thou hath been bestowed the power of a Siphon, the second to grace our lineage since I. Endless and infinite is your potential, thus I implore thee - how art thou yet the feeblest among us? Why thy fire gone out?” called the voice. I began to stumble to speak, and I apologized for my shortcomings. I implored the figure to help me, to explain what they meant, what to do, but no matter what I said I only heard,

“Find thy fire and thou shall know peace”.

Before long, she had vanished and I felt everything beginning to fade away into darkness. Though I could see nothing, I felt something pulling me and heard quiet mumbling.

I opened my eyes to find that Ashir was cautiously lifting me into his arms. As my awareness returned I could feel myself trembling, my hands so cold they felt stiff.

“Ashir?” I asked as I opened my eyes.

“Go back to sleep,” he grumbled as he carried me inside.

I had spent the next morning fixing up my old treehouse, transforming it into a small sanctuary of solace. However, my endeavor was abruptly interrupted.

"Cedar!" Ashir called out suddenly.

"Just a moment!" I replied before descending from the tree.

"I knew I'd find you here. Someone came by, wanting to place an order. I disguised myself and took note of it, but don't make this a habit. I am not –“

"How did you know I was here?" I interrupted, gazing at him skeptically.

"Why does that matter? Are you even listening? I said –“

"No, no. You mentioned that you knew you'd find me here, as if you knew about this place beforehand," I continued as I raised my eyebrows, causing Ashir to fumble for a response.

"I...I just...you..." He struggled to find the right words. I stood there, waiting for him to compose himself. He crossed his arms and sneered, "I'm so sorry that when it started raining and you didn't return to the cottage, I went out looking for you. And what a nightmare it was trying to track you in the rain –“

"You can track people?" I interrupted again, holding out my hand to stop him. Suddenly the fact that he had searched for me in the rain was forgotten.

"All Ezel can. We can sense someone's soul. How else do you think we find our targets?" He annoyed as though it was knowledge I should have already

"I suppose that makes sense…Why don't you come up and see the treehouse? I've made it quite cozy," I suggested.

"A wooden box in a tree? Sounds like a delightful time. You truly have a knack for adventure," he sarcastically replied. I opened my mouth to say something snarky but froze, thinking for a bit

"Oh? You want an adventure?" I challenged after a moment.

"I..." he began, but I quickly scurried back up into the treehouse, grabbing my spell book, “I was simply being facetious! I doubt you could come up with something entertaining, regardless," he protested. I climbed most of the way back down before jumping off a low-hanging branch.

"Oh, and here I thought you'd be up for the challenge," I said with a smirk, placing my hand on my hip. He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes at me.

"What challenge?" he asked, suddenly intrigued.

I shrugged nonchalantly and looked around. "Well, you claim you can track people, and I say I could easily hide from you if I wanted to," I proposed, injecting my voice with a hint of ego. Ashir's rumbling laughter could be heard as he approached, a mischievous grin forming on his face.

"You don't truly believe that, do you?" he asked skeptically. I glanced at the sun, realizing there was about an hour left until noon.

"I do. I think that if I use magic, I could hide from you until, let's say...high noon?" I said casually, though excitement began to build up within me. I wouldn't normally make such an offer, but I had a plan that I was mostly sure would work. My heart raced and for once it wasn’t due to fear.

"Oleander, I need your help. Bring me a butterfly wing and two pieces of quartz. Transform into another form, not a crow, maybe a hare," I telepathically called out to my familiar. Though he could locate me regardless, I added, "Meet me at Criella's cross - and bring an extra sachet!”

"Your magic won't help hide your soul, but I suppose there's only one way to find out. I'll sit here and count to a hundred, no, two hundred, giving you the slightest chance to succeed," Ashir generously offered.

"How kind of you," I replied sarcastically.

"One...two..." he began counting. My heart quickened, and I took off, leaping over a nearby brook and disappearing into the brush.

"No teleporting!" I called out as I ran. I continued for a while before casting a spell of lightness, ensuring I left no tracks and increasing my speed. I made my path as chaotic as possible, but I knew that alone wouldn't be enough. Eventually, I returned to a path and followed it, leaping over tree roots and ducking under low branches until it merged with several other paths. It led to a small clearing bathed in sunlight, where a very annoyed rabbit awaited me. He had dropped a small bag, and I picked it up.

"Is this some game you're playing with the demon?" Oleander asked.

"I wouldn't call it a game, per se," I replied as I opened the bag, taking out one of the quartz chunks. Such crystals make excellent vessels for energy, even if they do not excel at holding onto it for extended periods of time. I wrapped my hand around the crystal and closed my eyes. With a deep inhale and exhale I pushed some of my Spirit into the vessel, ensuring not to overdo it. Then, I placed the infused quartz inside the extra bag, handing it back to Oleander.

"This feels like cheating..." my familiar said skeptically.

"I clearly stated I'd be using magic, and you are technically magical. So, be a dear and run toward the field east of here," I said with a smile as I began removing my skirt. Oleander hopped backwards, tilting his head.

“And how is disrobing going to help?” He questioned with a judgmental tone as I threw my skirt into the bushes near the east path before removing my shirt and repeating the action. All of which left me in a pair of shorts and an undershirt. I turned to my familiar, a smug look on my face, and shrugged.

“Thank you, Ollie!” I said quietly, ignoring the question. I grabbed my spell book and the small bag and took off, headed west.

My plan relied on a hypothesis: that Ashir's tracking was not primarily based on someone's soul, but rather on the residual Spirit it left behind. Souls constantly generated Spirit, albeit to varying degrees. If I were a different kind of Spirit witch, this task would have been considerably more challenging, as most of them possess an overabundance of Spirit. However, in my case, I only had an excess of Spirit when I managed to��fully harness my abilities.

It wasn’t long until I was nearing my destination so I paused and pulled out the second quartz. Breathing in I focused my energy, channeling it into the stone in my hand, causing the quartz to emit a soft, ethereal glow. I held it up to the sunlight, allowing the rays to pass through it, creating a brilliant prism of colors as I began my incantation.

As the light filtered through the quartz, I began to visualize the energy spreading out, enveloping every inch of me, every hair and freckle. I focused on the image I wanted as I continued to say the incantation.

Once I felt the spell had taken hold I walked to a nearby tree and hid the crystal behind it. Stepping back, I completed the incantation and watched as the crystal’s glow increased before shifting into a copy of myself sitting on the ground. I ensured the smallest bit of her shoe could be seen from the path.

With the butterfly wing serving as a catalyst, I wove a polymorph spell around my spell book, transforming it into a mundane-seeming rock. I placed my spell…rock inside the small sachet before I fastened it securely around my wrist. I retraced my steps to the river's edge, treading carefully as I was aware Ashir’s senses were sharp and I feared he might hear me if I didn’t proceed with caution. I sat on the ground before slowly slipping into the river, swimming with the gentle current. The water was brisk and it stung my eyes as I blinked and tried my best to see. As I got my bearings and began to move through the water I saw fish darting around through my peripheral vision and I parted long stalks of aquatic plants as I swam further.

The river subtly quickened, a signal urging me to resurface. Emerging from the depths with a touch of clumsiness, I rose to my feet, hearing the distant roar of a nearby waterfall. I began to walk, my pace increasing as I cautiously approached the precipice. The waterfall was modest in size and one could easily dive into the waters below, provided one avoided the rocks. Again aware of Ashir’s senses I began to descend by foot, maneuvering with care until I reached the bottom, slipping into the water once again.

Paddling my way towards the cascading falls, I found my way into a hidden cavern concealed behind the thunderous curtain of water. The deafening crashing of the falls enveloped my senses. Retrieving my book from inside my sachet, I released it from its disguise before utilizing it to invoke a spell, attempting to dry myself off while I waited.

And wait I did, for so long that I nearly left my hiding place to see if it was past high noon, thinking perhaps Ashir simply gave up. But sure enough, after what felt like ages, I heard his voice.

"I know you're lurking somewhere. Reveal yourself," he called out, his voice finally breaking the silence. I remained motionless, refusing to yield. He continued, calling out a few more times, "It's past noon, there is no reason to remain hidden,” he continued. Still, I held my ground. Eventually, the sound of the demon plunging into the water reached my ears. Before long, he too found his way into the cavern, his anger palpable.

"Is it truly past noon?" I inquired, observing the expression on his face that had already betrayed the answer.

"Yes," he hissed, crossing his arms defiantly. In response, I sprang to my feet.

"I apologize, but I didn’t quite catch that. Could you repeat it?" I asked, tilting my head with a hint of feigned confusion.

"Yes! It is past noon!" he snapped, a small puddle forming at his feet as water dripped from his hair and pants – having removed his shirt and shoes. His chest was toned and muscular, the same brilliant white as the rest of his body.

"And what does that mean, exactly?" I inquired, pretending to be bewildered, though I held my chin high.

"It means go fuck yourself,” he spat.

"Oh, no, no. What does it really mean?" I chimed, edging closer.

"I don't have to say it," he retorted, his tone resembling that of a petulant child. I pouted playfully.

"Aw, are you too much of a baby to say it?" I cooed. His face contorted with fury.

"I'm not—"

"I believe you are," I interjected with a singsong voice, a wide smile adorning my face. He let out an exasperated huff, seething with anger. I maintained my gaze, unwavering.

"You've won," he finally conceded, and I burst into laughter, bouncing on my toes.

"Regretting the extra 100 seconds you gave me, hm? Although I'm not sure they would have helped. It seems you're just not very good at this," I teased, continuing to approach him. He rolled his eyes.

"I think you should shut your mouth” he barked

"Make me," I challenged, immediately realizing that I had made a grave error.

Ashir began to grin as he spoke, “Alright," he snarled, and in an instant, he vanished before my eyes.

I spun around, but it was too late. He swiftly seized me, hoisting me over his shoulder.

"Ashir, what on earth are you doing? Put me down! Gods, release me!" I pleaded, struggling against his grip. He shifted his hold, cradling me in his arms, and I realized we stood near the water's edge, the mist from the falls gently covering my skin. "Don't you dare, Ashir d—" I began, but he brought his arms back and flung me forward. I crashed through the waterfall, plunging into the cold water. After being stunned momentarily I swam back to the surface, gasping for air and turning to face the falls. "You're a sore loser, do you know that?!" I shouted.

"Well, you're hardly a gracious winner," his voice retorted from behind me. I wish I could say I handled it with composure, but alas, I did not. In fact, I screamed. And now, it was his turn to revel in laughter, a sound I was still getting used to.

That night, restlessness consumed me, rendering sleep an elusive fantasy. I found myself caught in a relentless loop, replaying my conversations with Ashir and the dream that followed. Yet, the more I pondered, the more said dream faded into my subconcious. Instead, my thoughts gravitated toward recent events as I was elated Ashir had begun to warm up to me. However, the mere contemplation of it set my heart racing, its rhythm quickened by a mix of anticipation and a tinge of apprehension. I tried convincing myself that it was mere residual nervousness following the removal of his collar, but deep down, I knew the feeling had begun before that night.

But my thoughts didn't linger in the realm of mild and mundane for long. They inevitably circled back to our conversation on the roof. His face, etched with profound and unyielding sorrow remained imprinted in my mind. Strangely enough, the more I envisioned his expression the more it began to feel more akin to mirror. Not in a literal sense, of course, but in the shared burden of self-loathing and inner turmoil. I understood his sorrow, albeit for a different reason. But I too struggled to keep my head above the relentless waves of sorrow, constantly striving to be kind to myself, but finding it to be a losing battle more often than not. It made me question whether I was being hypocritical in reproaching Ashir for his behavior, especially considering self-hatred might be all he knows.

Lost in contemplation, my mind wandered to the way he held me, as though the simple act of embracing another was entirely new to him. I couldn't help but wonder: Had he never experienced such tenderness before? How starved for kindness must one be to believe that a mere touch could bring damnation upon another? The thought weighed heavily on my heart.

I rose from my seat and made my way to the living room, settling onto the couch. "Ashir?" I called out, and before my eyes, the demon materialized. "Would you sit with me for a while? Just until I feel tired, perhaps?" I asked, my voice gentle. He eyed me skeptically, likely suspecting that this was a trick to have a conversation with him, which wasn't entirely wrong. He took a seat on the other side of the couch as I curled my knees to my chest, resting my head upon them.

"You know, it's quite funny," I began, breaking the silence after some time.

"What is?" he inquired, squinting his eyes at me curiously.

“I think we both hardly expected to have much in common, but here we are. Both feeling terribly and completely worthless. Irredeemable,” I said as my voice slowly became stoic. He sat up straight and leaned forward.

"That's not a similarity at all," he adamantly replied, "It's entirely different."

"How?" I questioned, seeking to understand his perspective. He shook his head, a hint of frustration apparent.

"How many times must I tell you? I am tainted. No matter how you perceive me, regardless of the growth I've experienced, I am and will always be a vile creature, unworthy of... undeserving of..." He trailed off, letting out a sigh. "I am surprised I have been here, surrounded by your kindness, for as long as I have without damning you or dragging y –“

As he spoke, frustration surged within me. I yearned to seize him and shout that I didn't believe him to be unworthy, that he deserved kindness, even if my words might not make a significant difference. But then, I remembered his unfamiliarity with affection. Without much further consideration, I sat up and, with a gentle but swift motion, leaned towards him and planted a kiss on his cheek. Instantly, he fell silent, motionless. He stared at me as I leaned back, a mix of awe and confusion evident in his eyes. My face burned red, but I wasn't finished. I turned slightly, closed my eyes tightly, and clasped my hands against my chest, freezing in place.

"What... what... Cedar?" Ashir called out, his voice filled with uncertainty. I ignored him. "Why did you... What are you doing? Hello? Cedar!" His concern grew, his words tinged with worry as he grabbed my shoulder.

Finally, I broke my silence, "I'm waiting to go to hell," I said, slowly opening my eyes and looking around. "Hmm, that's odd. I don't think this is hell. And my soul doesn't feel very damned," I quipped. Ashir remained tense, drawing in a shaky breath.

He stammered, "Why did you do such a thing?" his hand pressed against his cheek as he spoke. I observed a subtle, deep red, almost maroon, color spread across the demon's face, which somewhat eased my own embarrassment. "...all to prove a point?" He finished. My face grew even redder as I sheepishly glanced towards the ground. He fell quiet, and we sat there in silence for what felt like eons, until I slowly shook my head, finally answering his inquiry. I felt his fingertips gently lifting my chin, turning my face towards his.

His movements seemed slow, as if he were trudging through mud, even momentarily second-guessing himself. Eventually, he leaned closer and pressed his lips against my cheek. It was timid, filled with fear, as delicate as the flutter of a moth's wings. He pulled away but not entirely, his eyes fixed on my face. It took me a few moments to meet his gaze as I tried to maintain composure. My brain felt as if it were a whirlpool and I couldnt make sense of…anything really. Questions rapidly consumed my mind. What was happening? What did it mean? And why did I feel as though I may have fainted? But Ashir was looking at me expectantly, so I had to form some kind of response.

"Still... still not in hell. M-maybe we just aren't trying hard enough," I jested, a shy smile forming. I wasn’t entirely certain what I was saying, my words were an attempt to alleviate my own anxiety. He smiled back, and that simple gesture sent a warm, comforting sensation coursing through my body.

"Maybe," he whispered.

Nearly as slowly as before, he began to lean back in. As I realized what he was doing, my frustration grew, even though his intentions were well-meaning. It was as though he still thought he may kill me upon his lips touching mine. The impulsive courage that had seized me at the beginning of this exchange resurfaced as I leaned forward, pressing my lips against his. I fought through my shyness, cupping his cheek with my hand. The kiss was tender and sweet, but Ashir quickly pulled away, a familiar look in his eyes.

"Don't go," I pleaded softly. His eyes darted around, his chest rising and falling rapidly. This time, it was my turn to move slowly. I shifted onto my knees, positioning myself to reach him better. I wrapped my arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. "If you can't bring yourself to be kind to yourself, I understand. But you are worthy to me," I whispered as I held on to him. To my surprise, when he returned my embrace, it was not fearful or hesitant. He enveloped me in his arms, holding me as one would cling to a raft in a turbulent sea.

#monster #monster romance #monster boyfriend #monster bf #monster lover #monster lovers #monster story #monster stories #demon boyfriend #demon lover #short story #terato #monster x human #demon x human

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curseoftheundeadraven · 2 years ago

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Ruth Madievsky, All-Night Pharmacy

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curseoftheundeadraven · 2 years ago

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curseoftheundeadraven · 2 years ago

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Demons and Dandelions

Part 1? (sfw)

Summary: Cedar, a young witch living secluded in a forest which she protects, had been attempting to rebuild her life after a tumultuous two years. Yet, the chaos would continue as a demon, having escaped from his master, found his way into her woods.

(I accidentally made it longer than I had planned oops)

It was a familiar sight, me rummaging through the forest, especially during this time of year. But this time was unusual, as the sun had long set and the moon hung high in the night sky. I tended to forage during the day, but this was an exception. Sleep had been eluding me, as it did on occasion. I felt restless, a tense uneasiness surrounding me that had my stomach in knots. Once I finally accepted that no amount of meditation would be the answer to my problem, I reluctantly left the comfort of my bed. There was a specific mix of tea that often helped soothe me during nights like this, but as luck would have it I had ran out of fresh dandelions. I could use dried dandelion of course but for odd reason I felt as though I had to go out. With my shoulders slumped I fought through my weariness, donned a robe and cloak to keep me warm, and headed into the brisk chill of night. Even through my drowsiness I knew precisely where I was bound to find dandelions, they flourished in my forest at this time of year. I walked near thoughtlessly – until my cloak caught on something causing me to slightly jerk back. I turned and to my surprise a fox held my cloak between its teeth. I knelt down towards him, reaching to see if he simply wished for me to pet him, but he shrunk. He began to chatter quietly.

“There is a strange creature nearby,” the fox warned. In this forest, I had many animals that aided me with my magic, and this fox was one of them. I tilted my head to the side.

"What kind of strange?" I asked, curious and the slightest bit concerned.

“Hmm…bigger than you, much bigger. It has horns, – unlike that of a deer. Not human, not animal. It has a large mouth with sharp teeth, and it’s..."

"Alright, alright–" I interjected, trying to regain control of the conversation.

"–bleeding," the fox continued, undeterred. "It's bleeding, running, and hiding." The words twisted my stomach into a tight knot, a mix of concern and determination. The thought of something larger than me, wounded and fleeing, sent a shiver down my spine. Yet, in my forest, everything became my responsibility, even creatures that were neither human nor animal. I clenched my fist, feeling the weight of my duty pressing heavily on my shoulders.

"Oleander, come," I beckoned silently.

In an instant, my familiar emerged from my cottage, soaring towards my side. Among all the creatures that aided me, none held a deeper connection to me than Oleander. Perched on my shoulder, he took the form of a large black crow.

"There is a stranger here and they appear to be hiding from something," I whispered. "I need you to find out who or what that it is." Without hesitation, Oleander took flight, disappearing into the foliage to pursue whatever had entered my forest. I swiftly returned to my cottage, gathering a satchel filled with healing salves and potions, along with my spell book. My mind raced as I considered how else to prepare, which was difficult given that I had not the slightest clue of what I needed to prepare for…but if that unknown creature aimed to remain unseen, perhaps I should do the same.

Not long after I had finished casting a stealth spell I heard my familiar in my ear, or rather, in my head.

“Found something, look”. I took a breath before muttering the incantation, my eyes rolling back into my head. Everything went dark for a moment as I connected with him. Through Oleander’s eyes I witnessed the pursuit as he swiftly navigated through the night sky. Two colossal black hellhounds, their backs ablaze with purple fire, were charging through the forest, relentlessly hunting their prey. Which I assumed was that ‘strange creature’ – that was likely also a demon of some kind. The hounds were constantly stopping to smell and search in an attempt to find their target.

My sight returned to my own eyes and I hurried down to my library, knowing it had to hold the answers I required. My mentor's expertise in dealing with demons was well-known, partially thanks to her penchant for creating substances that enticed them. It was clear that demons shared humanity's affinity for vices, if not indulged in them more. Luckily, her meticulous organization made finding the necessary book a swift task. Amongst the details on lesser demonic creatures, I discovered a page on hellhounds. It revealed that of the three most notable demon Lords or Ladies that utilized hellhounds, Issa'ri hunted humans for their transgressions, Zaga'tyl used hellhounds as warnings to her enemies, and Mea'not, depicted amidst a purple fire, was the master of demonic servants. Those who broke the Lords' laws or fell for his schemes became his pawns, lent to sorcerers, witches, and mages. Disobedience led to the merciless wrath of his hounds, and indescribable torture once returned. As the knot in my stomach tightened, I abruptly closed the book, a sense that I was about to make quite the foolish decision.

Heart pounding, I hurried across the basement and knelt, placing my hand on a specific stone brick. Recalling the incantation, the surrounding stones glowed and vanished, revealing a hidden compartment. Despite the foul scent, I kept these items, unsure of what else to do with them, as I was not keen on continuing my mentors business with demons. Three types of jars awaited me, their names etched into memory. Remembering their immense value but unsure of the specifics, I carefully wrapped three in a towel, more for my own safety than their preservation. Hopefully that would prove to be enough. The remaining two jars would serve as insurance for my sudden dive into dealing with demons.

Oleander, find the demon those hounds are after and then return to me.

As I ventured through the forest, tracing the path the fox had taken, I tried to recall my mentor's teachings about these beings. All I could remember was her warning:

If you show them that you are in any way weaker than them, they may devour you in an instant. No matter how flimsy your courage, act as though you are as solid as an oak tree.

Her words did little to settle my growing unease. The sound of wings beating against the wind reached my ears, causing a lump to form in my throat.

“He has collapsed, this way”

I followed my familiar with careful speed. We came to a small clearing where an old tree had been felled by a storm many moons ago.

“He hides there, on the other side”

I took in the deepest breath my lungs could bear before I carefully maneuvered around the tree. As I weaved through the vegetation on the outskirts of the clearing and climbed over its roots, I laid eyes upon him and froze—a demon unlike any I had encountered. Lanky and gaunt, his skin a mix of snow white and inky black, with the black extending from his limbs and forming freckle-like dots. His horns, four eyes, tongue, and even the inside of his mouth were all black. Struggling to breathe, his chest rose and fell rapidly, and one of his four arms bore a gruesome, gaping wound that oozed a dark red, far darker than human blood. As I attempted to inch closer, his nostrils flared, and I realized that my stealth spell had failed to account for scent. Yet, my spells rarely needed to counter the unique abilities possessed by demons. Raising his head, he scanned the surroundings, and a low rumble reverberated in the air.

"Run, human, or I will tear the flesh from your bones," he seethed in a twisted, gnarled voice, clearly attempting to instill terror. However, I remained unfazed. My gaze fixated on his wounds, and as I drew nearer, I noticed more. He hissed once again, and with caution, I emerged from the shadows, hands raised.

"We both know you couldn't even stand if you tried," I calmly stated. Anger contorted his face. He unhinged his jaw, nearly stretching his mouth from ear to ear. Undeterred and unafraid, my confidence wavered only when Oleander's piercing caw sliced through the air.

I heard the pounding of paws on the dirt, my heart racing. The look on the demon's face revealed a deep-seated terror, beyond my comprehension. This, for some reason, added to my resolve. As the hounds approached, I positioned myself in front of the demon, drawing out my spell book. The hellhounds slowed their advance upon seeing me, growling and baring their teeth.

"Move, mortal, or meet a gruesome end," hissed one of the hounds, stalking forward.

"Stay back," I commanded, my voice unexpectedly resolute. I believe my ability to comprehend them took them by surprise for the briefest moment. But they continued to inch closer.

"I said - move," it roared, accompanied by a howl from the other. In that moment, I decided that if I were to die, I would face it without fear. And in that moment, I felt a renewed connection to my mentor.

"No," I refused, tracing symbols in preparation within my spell book. Time seemed to slow as the first hound lunged at me. With a sharp exhale, I thrust my hand forward, unleashing a powerful gust of wind that knocked them back, sending the lunging hound crashing to the ground. They quickly rose, and the second hound spoke.

"You have no idea what you're doing," it rumbled. "That one belongs to Mea'not. He has escaped, and-"

"I will have him," I interjected adamantly, shocking the creatures into momentary silence before they erupted into shrill laughter.

"With what, forest witch? Flowers?" one mocked, igniting a rage within me that surpassed anything I had felt before. Head held high, I took a step forward.

"What I possess in my purse is worth more than both your lives. Your master would surely skin you for it. So, I will make a pact with him. This demon will be mine," I boomed, though the words felt vile as they escaped my lips. I wished there were a less cruel way to accomplish my goal. The hounds glanced at each other before howling in unison, and smoke began to materialize nearby. The scent of sulfur hit me, causing a slight recoil, and I would be lying if I said it had nothing to do with my fear of facing Mea'not.

Fortunately, I did not. Emerging from the pillar of smoke was a small, at least by demon standards, demonic woman. Adorned in lavish attire, her skin possessed a deep blue hue speckled with gold, resembling lapis lazuli. A 'Sien, the only demonic lineage I was familiar with. She wore an expression of sheer boredom and regarded me with annoyance.

"My master does not appreciate having his time wasted," she drawled.

"Then I will make this quick – Marcia Nightshade, have you heard of her? Or rather, what she used to peddle?" I inquired, crossing my arms. I knew the answer, as that name was familiar to nearly every 'Sien and the other lower lines of demon nobility. Suddenly, the boredom disappeared from her face. She looked at me with skeptical interest.

"I am her successor, and I hold some of her product in this bag," I stated, placing it on the ground and unwrapping the towel to reveal the jars. Her reaction confirmed it was more than sufficient. She smiled, though it failed to reach her eyes.

"This will afford you a demon far superior to him," she began.

"It's either him or nothing," I asserted, suddenly feeling empowered. Mockingly, she laughed and extended her hand, which I shook, sensing my energy being absorbed by hers before she released her grip. She gestured for me to look at him, and I obliged. His expression remained unreadable. The woman snapped her fingers, and a chain appeared around his neck.

"Must he wear that?" I asked, suddenly aware of how out of my element I was. She laughed again.

"Feel free to remove it, but know that it's the only thing preventing him from ripping your face off. Though, it won't do much more than that. You'll have to keep him in line yourself," she replied before turning to him. "And if you dare to flee again, know that we'll find you. And next time, there won't be a foolish little witch to save you." With a final disdainful gaze, she spat on the ground. Then, in an instantaneous moment, it felt as though an eternity had ended.

After the hellhounds were gone, dizziness overwhelmed me, draining my strength. I attempted to ground myself, focusing on my breathing, but a groan of pain brought me back into the present. Rushing to the demon's side, I retrieved supplies from my bag to tend to his injuries. As I reached to clean a wound, he gripped my wrist tightly.

"What are you doing?" he growled.

"I'm trying to clean the area so I can patch you up," I explained.

"No," he tightened his grip to make his point, "why did you make this pact?"

Sheepishly, I replied, "They were going to torture you, were they not? How could I stand by without helping? Let me tend to your wounds and then I will reverse the pact or find a way to release you..."

He lunged forward, his face close to mine.

"You are an idiot, a pathetic fool," he hissed. "I’m surprised you are competent enough to hold a spellbook. There is no releasing me. Once you let me go or perish, I will return to them. You're useless, as is this."

My heart sunk as I tried to maintain composure. I pulled my hand away from his grasp and resumed cleaning his wounds

"Are all demons such assholes?" I murmured.

He growled in response.

I stirred as the sun peeked through my curtains, and I attempted to shield my eyes from its light – immediately realizing I could not move them. I silently begged to the gods that this was not another bout of sleep paralysis.

Reluctantly, I opened my eyes to find four unblinking, black eyes staring back into mine. The demon, who had refused to speak to me after last night's insulting encounter, hovered menacingly above me. His two arms held onto my wrists, while a scowl spread across his face, inching closer to mine.

"Tell me what this is," he demanded, his voice laced with attempted authority. I furrowed my brow.

"What do you mean?" I asked, only serving to further agitate him. One of his two free hands grabbed my face, but his actions failed to elicit the desired effect.

"Is this his doing? Why would a witch as benign as yourself do such a thing if not at his request? If he is behind this, trying to trick me into a sense of calm only to break it away from me it will not work!" he barked, his frustration evident.

“I-I have not a single clue as to what you are talking about!”

“Then what is this? What do you want?” He demanded. It was a valid question, one to which I had no immediate answer. The surprise of the situation left my mind scrambling to form coherent thoughts.

"This is rude, and I want you to let go of me. I told you before, I only wanted to help," I asserted while struggling against his grip. Feeling the sharpness of his claws against my skin, I seized the opportunity. Pushing my wrists forcefully against his claws, his hand jerked back. The collar that hung around his neck proved effective. With my hands now free, I traced sigils in the air, causing the ivy vines that adorned my room's walls to spring to life, entangling the demon's form. Taking advantage of the distraction, I slipped out from underneath him. Fortunately, he didn't resist the encroaching vines, his eyes tracking my every move as I stood.

Drawing in a deep breath, I exhaled slowly, regaining some semblance of composure. I reached for my robe, as I typically slept in minimal attire. My body tensed, but I refused to let his theatrics sway me. Once I felt more composed, I raised my gaze to meet his piercing stare, releasing him from the ensnaring vines. He remained motionless, his gaze locked on mine.

"I can't fathom what you've been through, and I don't blame you for not trusting me. If you're trying to force me to reveal some hidden darkness within me, I hope you'll eventually realize that I am not what you assume. And if this is what it takes to earn your trust, then so be it— I will play this little game of yours," I concluded, my voice steady. He pulled back, tilting his head to the side, emitting a low, ominous chuckle.

"Alright, let’s play," he agreed, his tone sending a knot twisting in the pit of my stomach. He attempted to rise to his full height, but his horns met the ceiling, prompting a hiss of frustration. He intentionally began to change his form to fit within my human-sized dwelling, though he still loomed imposingly over me – no doubt it was purposeful. His appearance shifted into a more human-adjacent form, featuring long black hair and a smaller mouth, yet his sharp, demonic features remained—claws, horns, and menacing black teeth.

Living on my own, secluded in woods could be a lonely existence, despite occasional visitors. Especially given it was still new, this being my second year of living in this cottage and caring for the forest by myself. As a result, I often found myself feeling terribly isolated. While I had entertained the idea of having someone stay with me, I had always imagined it would be a mortal, someone from my own realm. I certainly hadn't expected a large, furious demon to be glaring at me from the corner of my kitchen as I attempted to prepare breakfast. He stood there, observing my every move, as I walked over to my small dining table and placed two plates of food. I hoped a decadent breakfast might help soften him up even just the slightest bit. He approached with a stalking gait, sniffing the air before scowling.

"Before you label me an idiot, allow me to state that I am fully aware that demons do not require food for survival. I am also aware that they do sometimes eat food purely for pleasure," I explained, meeting his cynical glare. He retreated back to the corner, and I sighed, rubbing my forehead.

"You're welcome to join me at the table, and we can discuss this situation like adults," I suggested, attempting to temper my frustration. He growled, a low rumble emanating from his corner. After a moment, however, he reluctantly made his way to the table and took a seat across from me. Clearing my throat, I forced a strained smile.

"My name is Cedar. What is yours?" I inquired. He scoffed after a prolonged pause.

"I have no name. They refer to us as Se'iva," he stated, lifting a pancake slightly off his plate, sniffing it, and placing it back down. He dipped his claw into a small puddle of syrup, recoiling slightly at the sticky texture. I did my best to suppress a chuckle and I failed miserably, earning a sneer from him. As if he desired to prove he was in fact not afraid of it, he licked the syrup off his finger with his long, formidable tongue. I inhaled sharply.

"Well, do you remember your previous name?" I asked genuinely, although it seemed to have offended him.

"Don't be dull. Of course, I do. My name was Ashir'ezel," he replied. The name felt foreign as it rolled off his tongue, as if centuries had passed since it was last spoken.

"Ashir'ezel," I repeated. He pulled back slightly, suggesting that indeed, it had been centuries. "I'm not familiar with that lineage. What do the Ezel typically do?" I inquired. Ignoring my question, he picked up a pancake, elevated it above his head, and proceeded to devour it whole, unhinging his jaw in the process. Though not particularly large, I regarded him with a perplexed gaze. "Are you trying to frighten me or show off?" I asked, observing the syrup dripping down his face. I sighed and attempted to offer him a napkin, which he stared at as if it were an insult before opting to lick the syrup away himself. Silence enveloped us as I continued to eat while he made an even greater mess. Lost in contemplation, I finished my breakfast, only to realize that my newfound "friend" had vanished.

"Ashir?" I called out, my voice echoing through the room. All that greeted me was a faint rumbling. With a sigh I began to look around. Then, in an instant, darkness enveloped my vision, suffocating my senses. I felt my heart pounding in my chest but I was determined not to succumb to any tricks. With a deep breath, I gathered my resolve and slowly rose to my feet, ready to confront whatever horrors awaited me.

As abruptly as the darkness had descended, my vision returned, revealing Ashir's contorted face mere inches from mine. A bone-chilling screech tore through the air, sending shivers down my spine. Time seemed to stand still as my heart nearly stopped. But, fueled by pure adrenaline, my instincts took over, overriding rational thought. Without a second's hesitation, my fist collided with the side of Ashir's face, a strike that sent him reeling backwards, likely more so from shock than pain, as I was nearly half his size.

As the impact reverberated through the room, Ashir's twisted visage dissolved, and he returned to his previous form. My eyes widened in shock and remorse. "Gods, I am so sorry," I stammered, guilt washing over me. "I didn't intend to... Are you alright?"

He stared at me intensely, his expression showing more confusion than anger. I continued to babble incoherently, desperate to make amends. "I'm sorry, let me get..." But before I could finish my sentence, I turned around, only to find that Ashir had vanished into thin air.

I saw no more of him that day, well, not directly. I’d see movement in the corner of the room or feel his hands briefly as he shoved me or grabbed me, though he was always gone when I turned. This continued on to the next day, and the days after that.

Each day, I woke up with unease, and had to remind myself to embrace empathy and understanding. Ashir's torment would take various forms. Some days, objects would be moved or sent flying, and he would physically jolt or trip me, of course, without being able to cause harm. He often tried to scare me in tandem, shoving me into walls and screeching, making sure to restrain my arms lest we repeat the past. Phantom sensations and mysterious noises also plague me. When all of those methods failed to affect me, he would turn towards cruelty. His constant mockery cuts deep, but I persist in choosing kindness. And thankfully, none of his meddling had found its way into my dreams. Which didn’t surprise me all much as previously, long before Ashir arrived, I had covered my room in every kind of dream protection and nightmare prevention magic I could. So at the very least, I was able to face the day mostly well rested. And over time, I found ways to combat his actions. When objects would shatter, I would smile and say they can be replaced. I'd cast spells of deafness on myself to counter the repetitive, maddening sounds he would create. I’d feign ignorance when he'd grab me, as though he must need something or is confused which amusingly bewilders him. I respond to verbal berating with kind words about myself and even about him at times. I try to do nice things, like creating a larger bed for him. He had been sleeping – well I wasn’t entirely sure if he slept in the way that humans do, but he had been staying in my guest bedroom, and the bed was even smaller than mine so I couldn’t imagine it being anything but trouble for him.

“I made you a bigger bed, I assumed it was incredibly uncomfortable to sleep in that small one,” I beamed as I rocked back and forth on my heels slightly, “do you like it?” I asked him. His new bed practically swallowed over half of the room. He reached out and tested its softness before pulling back and crossing his arms.

“It’s just a bed, why would I care about such a thing?”

“Oh,” I feigned sadness, “alright, I’ll get rid of it”

“Well - it would be an idiotic waste of time and energy now, may as well leave it” he huffed.

I’m not sure when I noticed he was finally beginning to soften, as it came in subtle, gradual ways. His insults softened and his torment became more benign as time went on. Once, he knocked a glass over that ended up slicing my hand particularly deep, and within an instant he was in front of me, pulling my hand towards him and examining it. He let go the second I winced in pain.

“How did that...how do we fix it?” He asked, eyes jumping between mine and my injury. A smile began to grow on my face as I carefully applied pressure to the wound.

“We?” I quipped and he snarled, walking away.

He began to grow more curious as well, it seemed that his watchful gaze went from sly and conniving to perplexed or intrigued. Sometimes he would even ask questions, and on very rare occasions he would answer mine. Of course, the second I pointed out his curiosity I was insulted or mocked, but it was still progress. We even occasionally had something that almost resembled full conversations.

“Your mentor, she worked with demons?”

“Well yes, but she worked with a great many kinds of beings”

“And you do not?” He asked. I cleared my throat.

“No, not yet. I’m still…figuring it all out” I said without meeting his eyes. Things grew quiet for a moment.

“Did she…?” He trailed off and I gave the slightest nod before I retreated into myself. Silence took over, a common occurrence with us, but this time it felt different, more tense. For once, he was the one to break the silence.

“The Ezel,” he began slowly and I perked up immediately, “are soul collectors” he stated. I was stunned at the sudden openness but feared he would shut down if I showed too much excitement.

“Like reapers?” I asked and he shook his head.

“The purpose depends on your master, some are souls that are owed to other demons…” he explained until it was his turn to trail off.

“And the others?”

“Are used for their energetic properties or simply to amuse the demon in control” he stated grimly. He didn’t remove his eyes from the food, which he was not eating, merely poking at it as silence returned. I didn’t want to push him any further than that. And I didn't need to, his desire to open up to me after I had done so with him said enough.

There were times that it seemed he had gone back to his original ways, some days he was kinder than others, but to me it didn’t matter much. Each small sign of growth was enough to keep myself steadfast in my methods. But as we made progress it seemed that my turmoil was not over, even though it would have nothing to do with Ashir. At first, I started to fall asleep later and wake up earlier, becoming restless, but I did my best to ignore it. Even though I had a sinking feeling of what truly was going on. And eventually I could no longer deny it.

I was lying in my bed late into the night after the third, maybe fourth time I had been hurtled back into consciousness by a night terror that I could not shake off. I suddenly felt heavy, as if I were sinking downwards. I pulled my knees into my chest and began to embrace the tears that I had been desperately holding back. It had been so long without issue, I thought I was finally free from it all just to be dragged back into the depths of my sorrow. I could still hear my mentor's voice, see her face - or at least the distorted versions my dreams liked to show me. It all replayed over and over in my mind until -

Tears streamed down my face, my emotions spiraling into a breakdown. I curled up on my side, as though it would bring me some sense of solace. Lost in my despair, I registered the subtle dip of the bed and braced myself for Ashir's usual biting remarks or attempts to startle me. Surprisingly, he remained silent.

Curiosity eventually got the best of me, and I lifted my head to find him perched at the foot of my bed, his presence resembling that of a gargoyle. Normally, I would have found it amusing, but in that moment, my sorrow overshadowed any humor. When our gazes met, he broke the silence.

"What is wrong with you?" he asked, his voice cutting through the air. His tone was neither kind nor harsh, but blunt enough to throw me off balance.

"H-huh?" I managed to stammer, caught off guard by his unexpected inquiry.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his tone still blunt and uncaring, yet somehow softer than I anticipated.

"What does it look like? I'm crying," I replied, my voice wavering, before dropping my head and shutting my eyes.

"Why?" he persisted, speaking in a flat tone.

"Why?" I repeated, my voice weak, "As if I'd tell you. You'd only use it against me," I said, my bitterness seeping through my voice. A heavy silence hung in the air, and I hoped it signaled his departure.

"Can... you stop?" he suddenly asked, his words surprising me. I raised my head, staring at him with a mix of confusion and growing upset. "...it annoys me," he added, as if it should have been obvious. His words only intensified my distress, and my tears continued to flow.

"C-clearly not!" I snapped, pulling myself upright and retreating to the safety of my headboard, my knees pressed tightly against my chest. I buried my face, my shoulders trembling with each sob.

"Why not?" He questioned, his tone oddly genuine. Frustration surged within me.

"Because I'm upset! Because I can't sleep! B-because every time I close my eyes, I relive the worst n-night of, muh, my—" My words dissolved into sobs, and a wave of relief and washed over me as Ashir's weight lifted from the bed.

That relief immediately faded as I felt his arms wrap around me, picking me up as though it was nothing. Too confused to offer any resistance I allowed him to carry me to the living room. He settled me onto the couch, and then quietly retreated back into the hallway.

I slumped over, not having the energy to return to my room. I attempted to relax, but every time I closed my eyes, the vivid memories flooded back as if they had transpired just yesterday. At least I managed to cry quietly, hoping it would keep Ashir at bay. However, the sound of my kettle whistling startled me, and I started to fear my sanity was slipping away. Yet, in truth, I was too tired to care. And then I heard Ashir's heavy footsteps.

"Here," he mumbled, holding a cup of tea that appeared minuscule in his hands. Sniffling, I regarded him with as much confusion and suspicion I could in this state. He scoffed and placed the cup on the coffee table. I eyed it cautiously. He turned and settled on the floor a few feet away from me, his elongated limbs looking somewhat odd, watching me expectantly. With care, I reached for the cup and sniffed it, earning another scoff. It carried the scent of lavender, valerian, and dandelions.

"How did you know what to use?" I inquired.

"Watching you," he responded.

"Ah," I muttered, realizing the answer should have been obvious. I took a sip, confirming that it was the mix I typically brewed when sleep eluded me. He had added honey as well, though perhaps a bit too much. Embracing silence, I continued to sip the tea. Although I still trembled and my breathing remained unsteady, Ashir had succeeded in halting my tears, albeit mostly due to shock and confusion. Nevertheless, I was no longer crying.

"Why did you do this?" I asked after a while, hoping my suspicion was correct.

"To make you stop crying," he replied. I arched an eyebrow, "-I told you, it annoys me." He continued.

"You can teleport quite easily, can you not? Why not just do that?"

"I don't have to explain myself to you," he hissed, vanishing before my eyes.

Following that night, the problem persisted. I began waking up in tears or shouting during sleep more frequently. The amount of rest I managed to obtain dwindled, and I was fortunate to even get four hours in a night. Sometimes, I would lie in bed, too frightened to slip back into slumber, silently attempting to divert my attention to other matters. The aged wooden floor in my bedroom often betrayed his presence, emitting faint creaks that I wouldn't have noticed if I weren't so on edge. Over time, I grew more adept at sensing his proximity. It felt like stepping into the shade after basking in the sun, it almost chilled me. I couldn't fathom why he hadn't used my nightmares and distress to torment me, and ironically, I became somewhat paranoid, wondering if it was all an elaborate façade. I could imagine how terrifying such a prospect would be and I gained a bit more empathy as a result. Regardless of whether his actions were genuine, on any night when I shed even a few minutes' worth of tears, a grumbling Ashir would present me with a cup of tea.

The lack of sleep began to wear on me. Everything hit a fever pitch when summer began to turn to fall. Ashir had nearly stopped his meddling and instead opted to lurk and watch, occasionally jeering at me or grabbing my arm or the back of my shirt. Honestly, I was too tired to really think about it especially as in my sleep deprived state I started to create chaos for myself, knocking over jars or mixing the wrong herb and ruining tinctures. Once such an occurrence as I kneeled on the ground collecting the petals I had spilled I heard an unexpected sound, a musical bird call that caused me to freeze as I immediately recognized the tune. When the bird called for me again I knew there was no use stalling and I rose. A medium sized bird had landed on one of my windows. She was a shimmering gold and carried a strong magical aura. When I hesitated she called again.

“Ki’ara, be patient with me, please” I asked as I approached, dusting off my hands. She had dropped a scroll with a blue and gold wax seal that I had seen many times before. Oleander came in through a nearby window and began to chatter with Ki’ara as I grabbed the scroll. Though it was nothing but paper, ink, and wax it felt heavy, as if it were pulling me downwards.

“Thank you Ki’ara, send Miera my regard” I mumbled as I struggled to ground myself in reality. I don’t know when she left, I had their conversation tuned out almost immediately. My mind felt like it was drifting away from reality, until abruptly, the scroll was ripped out of my grasp. I didn't make an effort to hold onto it, but I was jolted back into consciousness, and the landing was far from pleasant. Ashir, with his eyes wide and chest heaving rapidly, stood before me. His other hands were clenched so tightly into fists that they trembled.

“Ashir pl-“ I began, but he cut me off.

“I knew it-“ he interjected harshly. I felt my stomach drop as I heard his voice and the anger held within it.

“Gods just let me exp-“ I begged, trying to regain control of the situation.

“I knew it, I knew this couldn’t be. So what is it? Is it finally time to spring your trap?” He asked as he crushed the letter in his fist.

“No,” I said sternly before taking a shaky breath, “It’s- I, it’s nothing! Nothing that concerns you, anyway. Just-“

In one swift movement, he grabbed me by the collar of my shirt and yanked me forward. He grew so close I could feel his breath and hear his chest rumbling.

“I can feel the demonic magic radiating from this scroll…who else could it be? Tell me, what was the price?” he hissed quietly, voice full of venom.

“There isn-“ I attempted to speak before he continued on.

“What is it in for you? How much did it cost for you to muddy your hands and do the work of a cretin like him? Unless, you have always been corrupt and twisted…” he paused and looked away for a moment, “was this all just an act? Was your kindness secretly just a knife you were readying to stab in my back? I was right, you are pathetic” seethed. My throat felt tight, constricted as I tried to hold on to my composure amidst his onslaught of harsh words.

“It’s not about you-“ I protested, but it was no used, he finally erupted.

"LIAR!" he roared, his face a mere two inches from mine. His fears and emotions surged like a volcano, red-hot anger ready to consume everything in its path. My own emotions began to take the form of distant whispers of an approaching tempest, rapidly overtaking the horizon. I felt fear, sorrow, and red-hot anger all wash over me at once. I felt my eyes watering, my ears ringing, but I grit my teeth and tried to steel myself.

"Fine," I began in a cold voice, a single tear slipping down my cheek. "Read the letter. In fact, keep it," my voice grew sharper, mirroring the storm brewing inside my mind. It swelled, threatening to consume me. I tried to stop there, I did but it all just came rushing out, "I hope this brings you satisfaction, you’ve finally pushed me to my breaking point because I... I no longer care. Not about the letter, and certainly not about you." I felt everything swirling up inside of my mind and I couldn’t make sense of it. Exhaustion, anger, hurt. I couldn’t tell them apart, all I knew was that I couldn’t take anymore of it, “Let that letter serve as a reminder that you are a paranoid, hard headed, heartless asshole!” My words crackled like thunder, and the tempest was unleashed.

In a burst of anger, I grabbed his wrist, my gaze piercing him like daggers. Fortunately, he relented and released his grip. Unable to contain my tears any longer, I pivoted and rushed out of the front door, storm clouds following close behind.

I only got about 20 steps away before the words I had said hit me. I hesitated briefly before forcing myself to continue on. Tears blurred my vision as I walked. The first fallen leaves of autumn crunched beneath my feet, and the birds fell quiet as I passed, something that had only happened a couple times. Despite my familiarity with the forest, I simply marched forward, not caring about my destination. I quickened my pace and didn’t rest until the tears had stopped.

I arrived at one of the many brooks that ran through the area and decided to take a break. The sky was painting itself in hues of pink and orange as the run began its rest behind the horizon. A bittersweet chuckle escaped my lips as I realized I had arrived at a grand oak tree with robust branches. Running my hand along its bark, I gazed upward, attempting to glimpse through the foliage. I gently wiped my cheeks and took a deep breath, uncertain whether it would bring solace or further turmoil, but I began to climb nonetheless. My destination remained obscured, yet the memory of what path to take was etched in my mind. Eventually, I caught sight of the wooden planks composing the floor, guiding me toward the door. The rope ladder, once the gateway to my cherished treehouse, had long since worn away, and I had never bothered to replace it, then and even now I didn’t need it. Surprisingly, it had held up the test of time and hardly looked any worse for wear. A faint smile grew on my face as I reminisced about its former glory during my childhood, now realizing it was quite small and humble. Nonetheless, it still accommodated me decently enough, I only had to crouch slightly to stand upright. Before long, as the nostalgia faded. I sprawled out on the floor, my mind continuing its downpour.

I didn't sleep well, although it was the most restful night I had experienced in quite some time. Instead of planning to sleep in my old treehouse, I decided to tidy it up a bit. I worked late into the night, and at some point during or after my efforts, exhaustion overcame me, and I drifted off. Nightmares plagued my sleep as always, but I roused only once. The creaking of tree branches outside caught my attention, yet the gentle rustling of leaves and the soft patter of raindrops convinced me that it was merely the wind. I awoke before dawn, lying there in quiet contemplation, thinking about all that had happened.

I had said terrible things, thing I did not mean and wish I could take back. But Ashir, I could still see the hate and sorrow in his eyes, and feared there may be no overcoming this. My gut formed a knot when I considered what the letter contain precisely. I anticipated Miera’Sien was attempting to provide solace, as she had the year before. After what had occurred I could understand her being concerned for me. But, I didn’t think I needed her, I thought after two years my grief must have somehow lessened but that seemingly was not in the cards. The scroll itself was large, unsurprisingly, as Miera had an unending reservoir of things to say, all of which came in her descriptive, nearly dramatic prose. So it is likely Ashir would finally have some grasp of why nightmares plague me so. I couldn’t begin to decide how I felt about that.

And of course, there was the matter of explaining why exactly Lady Miera’Sien was sending me letters regarding the death of my mentor, which I wasn’t sure he would believe.

I tried to push all of that away and focus on what to do. And there wasn’t much else to do besides apologize but I didn’t know how he would feel about me when I returned, - to be fair I hardly had the faintest idea what he had felt about me before all of this.

As the sun just barely began to rise I made my way back through the now very muddy terrain, which took me a bit by surprise as I hadn’t realized it had rained so heavily. When I reached the door I took time to ground myself before opening it cautiously.

“Ashir?”

My call earned no response. .

“Oleander?” I ask and thankfully I heard his caw clear as day, “where is Ashir?” I ask as I closed the door behind me and began to take off my muddy shoes

“I haven’t seen him”. He said, flying into the room and perching. I let out a sigh. After setting aside my shoes I looked to the kitchen where the ordeal had happened and saw the letter lying on the counter. As I walked closer I observed that it was somewhat crumpled and more importantly — it had been opened. I tried to shake it off, deciding I should take care of my current state before reading it. And besides, I still had a mess to clean up. As I walked around the island of my kitchen I saw that all of the small petals I had accidentally scattered across the ground were gone and I found them in their original basket.

The day stretched on slowly, my body and mind still exhausted. Though Ashir was nowhere to be found I refrained from attempting to find him. If he did not want to be in my presence, I could understand. I myself have mixed feelings about being in his. Once the sun had set, I felt uneasy as he was typically most active at these hours. I continued to repress my anxiety and try to proceed as normal. Of course, I slept terribly. I would wake up over and over again in a short burst of time, my mind never able to delve into restful sleep. Into the very early morning however, I finally succeeded and slept as well as I could. As I put on my robe and begin to head towards the kitchen I call out to Ashir. I was only met with silence. Upon entering the kitchen however I spied something odd. A basket sat on the counter and it would not be far-fetched to think I had simply forgotten to put it away in my current state. As I moved to pick it up however I realized it had been filled with fresh dandelions, still lightly shimmering from the morning dew.

“Ashir?” I called out again, even though I knew I would get no response.

These gifts continued randomly appearing for several days, first dandelions, then mushrooms, and so on. But I never got a single glance of Ashir. Though the small gestures were kind, I found myself missing his presence during difficult nights.

Nearly two weeks later, I nestled myself into the plush pillows of my couch and pulled my blanket tighter around me. My eyes were red and puffy as this was the third time that night I had been awoken. Nothing was helping so I resigned to simply making myself comfortable and trying to find any semblance of calm. The first time I was startled awake by the loud and sudden cracking of thunder accompanied by the sounds of raindrops pounding against the roof of my cottage. As I lay on the couch it continued on, loud enough that even the wind joined the chorus, howling in between cracks of thunder. Each time, I did not jump as the thunder scared me not. At least not now. I began to focus on the sounds of incoming rain until — I heard the sound of ceramic meeting wood, my head snapping up immediately. And there he stood, head bowed and hands pulled close to himself. A cup of tea sat on the small table in front of me. Mere seconds after I processed who was standing before me - just as our eyes met, tears began to roll down my face, blurring my vision, as I began to quietly sob. Startled, he instinctively retreated, but I reached out and took hold of his hand, silently begging him to stay.

Slowly, cautiously, he inched closer, eventually settling beside me on the couch. His towering presence made me feel impossibly small. I never let go of his hand. For some time all that echoed off the wall of my cottage was the soft sound of my cries and the distant roaring of the storm.

“I’m sorry,” he said so quietly I wasn’t sure if I was meant to hear it. I adamantly shook my head

“No, no. The blame is mine, I could have, I-I shouldn’t have-“ I began before I was interrupted by his hand on my chin. He turned my head and studied my face before shaking his head.

“It’s a wonder you cannot see why I would think someone such as you, as kind and forgiving as you, can simply not exist,” he said quietly before removing his hand from my face and turning away. I carefully wiped some of my tears away as I felt heat rising to my cheeks. The sound of rain and my constant sniffling filled the room. He never let go of my hand, but for a while, he was as still as a statue. “You should have tossed me aside the second you got a chance,” he began, his voice displaying a weakness I did not know it could have, “you had suffered enough, I am sure…” he trailed off and I shook my head again.

“That doesn’t matter-“

“It does,” he retorted, his voice a bit louder, “if I hadn’t been here you wouldn’t be plagued with all of these-“ he started before it was my turn to interject.

“No. It has nothing to do with you…” I said before trailing off momentarily, “It has happened before –“ my voice cracked as I felt emotions stirring up inside of me once again, “…I’m just not strong enough” I sputtered as tears returned.

“Don’t be so dull,” he whispered as with hesitant tenderness, he reached out, wrapping one hand around my back, another lifting my legs as he pulled me into his embrace. He held me delicately so that I could easily push him away or escape had I desired to, which is something he seemed to be anticipating. Instead, the second I was in his embrace, I clung to his shirt, my tears soaking into the fabric as continued to cry. His form remained rigid, each movement stiff and cautious. It was evident that he was unaccustomed to such displays of affection, yet he tried earnestly to offer solace. As I attempted to calm myself, I faintly discerned the steady beating of his heart. It was a deep, low pounding that held little resemblance to a human’s. Its slow, resounding cadence became my anchor, helping to ease my distress. He remained silent, gently rubbing my back and tracing circles on the back of my hand with his thumb. We spoke no more, we simply basked in the sounds of the ongoing storm. As the tears gradually subsided and my sobs waned I did my best to take measured, deep breaths. With each exhale, the tension in my body seems to lessen, my shoulders sinking slightly as my muscles relaxed. A sense of fatigue lingered, both in my body and my mind, as everything began to take its toll. My eyelids grew heavy, and eventually, I allowed myself to drift off into slumber.

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