He waited a moment for her to settle, but instead things got worse. “No,” she pleaded sleepily, “don’t.”
Damien took a quick glance around the chamber, but it was indeed empty save for the two. He clicked his tongue and leaned close to her ear, muttering out quickly, “Sanguinisui, forget this dream and sleep peacefully until morning.”
When her body relaxed, and she fell quiet, he promptly left the chamber.
Up in his own room, Damien paced its length many times until he finally pulled the shielding satchel from his pocket and slipped out the shard of occlusion crystal. He was only a few days into his journey and already things had gone to shit. Trapped in the crystal, his father had no way of knowing, and it would be easy, perhaps even preferable, to keep him in the dark.
He hesitated and then sliced his thumb on the crystal’s sharpest edge. Mumbling Chthonic, he called up infernal arcana into the shard, and an eye blinked to life under the surface.
“Kiddo!” Zagadoth’s voice boomed louder than he was expecting.
“Father,” he said through grit teeth after starting, “apologies, it has been days.”
“Oh, ya know, time’s a little weird in here. What are ya, like, halfway to Eirengaard by now?”
Damien raised his brows at the shard then looked out the window across the marshy scape of Tarfail Quag. “Not exactly.”
“Master Bloodthorne!” Kaz’s weathered voice exploded into the room from the doorway as the imp shuffled in, half flying with every other step, then landing and trying to run, get up the speed, and fly once again. In his grubby, little claw, he was holding a cluster of tiny, pink flowers sprouting off a long stem. He offered the sprig up as he landed at Damien’s feet. “All I could find, Master.”
“Is that an imp?” Zagadoth’s pupil roved down to the corner of the crystal.
“It’s Kaz, actually,” said Damien, thankful for the distraction. “Reborn, a gift from The Brotherhood.”
Kaz took a huge breath, bulbous, black eyes growing even wider. There was a tear in one of his ears, a scratch down his side, and he was limping when he took a step, but he froze under the red gaze of the crystal, then fell into complete supplication. The imp flattened himself to the ground, arms outstretched, the sprig still tight in a fist. “My Lord! Great Tyrant of the Abyss! Sitter of the Sanguine Throne! Overlord of all that is Infernal!”
“So, it is an imp,” Zagadoth chuckled deep in his throat. “How are the old shaved-tops, eh?”
“Oh, you know, zealous, infatuated…bald.” Damien reached down and plucked away the sprig as Kaz remained prostrate. He half expected it to be an illusion, but the herb felt real enough, and the smell confirmed it was yarrow as he’d requested.
“So, Champ, you must have something to tell me then. Defeated any Holy Knights? Caused a little chaos? Decapitated someone worth bragging about?”
Damien swallowed, tossing the yarrow onto the bed. “There has been some chaos, yes.”
“Fabulous!” The eye squinted with a grin hidden in the other realm.
Kaz deigned to lift his head, and when he saw the crystal was no longer pointed at him, he pushed up onto hands and knees to watch Damien.
“The chaos, though,” Damien began with a thoughtful breath, “is a little less…traditional.”
“Even better!” Zagadoth’s deep rumble couldn’t be more pleased. “You’re an innovator, kiddo.”
“No, Dad, it’s…” Damien rubbed his temple, squeezing his eyes shut, trying to figure out how to explain. “It’s not good.”
“Well, it’s not supposed to be,” said Zagadoth, “and do you think you can slow down? You’re giving me the dizzies.”
Damien pulled the shard away from his temple. “Right, sorry. What I mean is, I’ve run into a little hitch. It’s a minor complication, a thing I could probably crush it’s so small and fragile and…blonde, but the point is, I believe it will delay my plans.”
At that, Kaz’s eyes sharpened, and he pushed back up onto his feet. Damien spun away from him and stalked to the open window.
“Well, I didn’t expect this trip to be all wasps and weeds, Kiddo, I know there will be hangups. Maybe I can help, brainstorm some ideas to fix things up?”
“No!” Damien put on a crooked smile. “I know how to fix it, the problem is just setting me back a little, and I…” He squinted over his shoulder. Kaz looked unhappy, remaining in his spot, arms crossed, but he almost always looked like that. Back to the window and the marshy waters outside, Damien took a breath of damp air. Why had he called? “I just wanted you to…to know.”
The crystal took a moment to speak again, but Damien could practically hear his father thinking. It had been like this for almost as long as he could remember, the demon trapped behind a tiny wall of gemstone, easy to avoid when Damien felt less than or knew he had fucked up, yet something always compelled him to face the eye in the crystal and his own mistakes. “Son, have I told you the story of Valgormoth the Blind Fury?”
Damien’s shoulders slumped. “Yes, you—”
“Valgormoth the Blind Fury was your great, great grandmother, a nigh invincible demon who ruled the realm in the age of beasts, thousands of years ago, before The Expulsion. She lorded over the frozen things, the frigid beings, the white dragons and frost giants and those chubby, little cats with all the fur and the really long teeth, you know, what’re they called?”
