He laughed.He drank.He pushed and pulled on the sins he embodied.He sank into pleasures of the flesh.
He forgot.
Again, and again, and again, he forgot.
Saer turned into a regular at Sal’s, earning his money via bets the humans proved foolish enough to place against him.A spectacle to the patrons, he remained heedless of the attention he drew.Even the late afternoon lighting of the fireplace became an event, one which drew approving hoots, claps, and cheers.
Each morning after recovering enough strength to roll out of his usual room’s bed—more often than not with a young lass next to him—he contemplated resuming his quest.
Yet, the evenings bled together.
No harm came to Saer, despite the precautions the Twins warned him of years prior.Who would dare tangle with the First of theDaemoenica?
Pride.
It might have been weeks or months later.However long, the night began as all the others.
Well on his way to another bleary-eyed morning, Saer sat at one of the tavern’s tables furthest away from the roaring fireplace.The greater his distance from the blaze, the longer Sal’s drinks frolicked in his system.
Surrounded by other customers, Saer pulled a fine and buxom lady into his lap while those around hollered in appreciation.He slid his thumb along the redhead’s jawline.She giggled when he pulled her closer, noses touching, too near for his bleary-eyed vision to focus.Her arms glazed up his chest, and he growled with encouragement when the female tilted her head to brush his lower lip with her mouth.
Saer didn’t see the leather strap in her hand until it wrapped around his throat.Didn’t register the danger until the band latched.
Cold.
Saer’s breath caught as he reared back and touched his neck.He’d meant to snap his hand up, but each limb moved as though dragged through mud.Fingers fumbled under the piece of leather, blasts of icy numbness shocking them wherever he made direct contact.
The auburn-haired maiden with cobalt irises and a splatter of freckles across her pale cheeks turned from warm and inviting to anything but.She wiped at her grimacing mouth with pinched fingers.
Mage.
Saer grabbed for the woman with sluggish hands, eyelids too heavy.Between alcohol and the bitter cold sapping his strength, his mind could barely compute the surroundings, what his body did, which way was up, and which was down.
Something fell in the distance, the dull thud of a heavy body.Eyes unable to focus, his body ached where it could.Everywhere else chilled to his core.
The world was sideways.
He’d fallen over.
Voices surrounded him.Bar patrons.
Sal.
“I’ve got him, M’lady.He’s had too much.My mates and I’ll carry him to his room.”Saer recognized the voice of the redhead.
So cold.
“See that you do.Idiot man.It was only a matter of time.”Sal, dismissing them.
No.
Desperate to make some sort of noise, Saer could only groan.His body rose, lifted by carrying arms, and his eyes rolled partially open.Everything blurred.Dancing flames from the fireplace came nearer as they lugged his frame away.He called with his metaphysical gifts to the inferno, straining.
The blaze flickered and reached for him, weaker than normal, as though a shield blocked his call.
The collar.
Hells.No.
