I look around, trying to get my brain to believe what my eyes are seeing. We’re a few hundred feet away from the blackened edge of a lake…
An orange, bubbling lake. Steam rises from it in foul-scented clouds, and the searing heat scorches my bare face and legs.
Lava, my brain supplies helpfully. Yeah, thanks for that.
Off in the distance, far beyond the boiling liquid surface, a black turret rises. It’s all jagged lines and pointy bits, directly out of aTim Burtonmovie. In the distance, the volcano—Mount Vracor as they call it—rumbles. Is it getting ready to erupt?
The aliens don’t seem to mind the lava lake or their impending Pompeii reenactment. Cheered on by the rest, a small group of them is busy fashioning a stake of sorts out of a nearby tree. Long, supple vines extend from its bare branches, and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to work out what they intend to do with those.
“Hey!” I protest as the two people holding me drag me over to where Alkarvi is standing, stroking his fuzzy beard. “Look,” I begin once I’m right in front of him, “I believe this is all a big misunderstanding. I don’t think your king—His Evilness, was it?—would be interested inme. No, you want a beautiful, twenty-something virgin. While beauty is obviously in the eye of the beholder, I had my first legal beer a couple ofdecadesago. And this might be TMI, but I’m not a virgin… that changed even before the beer. So if you could just let me go—”
“Enough!” Alkarvi snaps, cutting me off, impatience flashing in his ruby eyes. “Ulf has decreed that we offer you to the demon who rules us. King Krav of Pyreda will decide what to do with his gift.” He addresses the ones holding me. “Secure her to thecex.”
“Sex?” I bleat as I’m hauled over to the tree and shoved up against it, the bark scraping my back. “Please, this is a mistake!” The villagers ignore me, holding me down and securing the vines around my waist, ankles, and wrists until they bite into my flesh. “You don’t want me. I’m too old. I’m divorced!”
I yank at the bindings, but they hold fast. My captors back away, looking satisfied. The volcano has stopped belching smoke and the wind has cleared most of it away, but the lava lake is blistering hot and bubbling. On the far side of the roiling surface, a bubble pops, and sparks land on a dead tree a few feet away from the lava’s edge. The wood catches fire, turning the tree into a merrily burning torch.
“What if the king doesn’t come?” I ask Alkarvi, not sure which I’m more afraid of—the Demon King finding me, or being left to die a slow, thirsty death in some weird alien parody of a crucifixion. Not to mention, I’m a redhead.Onesun is bad enough, but being tied up bare-limbed underthree…
“He will come,” Alkarvi assures me. “We will make sure of that. Ulf desires that Krav receives our gift to him.” The tall alien and his acolytes turn on their heels, and leave me alone.
Well, crap. What in the actual blue fuck do I do now?
* * *
Krav
We demons cherish our solitude—at least, I do, and I assume it’s the same for everyone. My father certainly did.
That’s why he built this castle out in the plains, in the shadow of Mount Vracor, as far away from the rabble as possible, and surrounded it with a lava lake. Some kings take great pride in being rulers of the people, sacrificing their time and energy to ensure their kingdoms are healthy and prosperous.
Those kings are fools. The common folk are never grateful, never appreciate what they have. Instead, they always want more. They demand and demand, likelykkachicks with their beaks permanently stretched open. My father silenced them by raining fire on their heads, and dropping the occasional village elder into Mount Vracor. Now he’s gone, it’s my turn to continue his reign of terror. But I barely engage with the Pyredii. Why bother trying to satisfy those who will never be satisfied?
Instead, I concentrate on pleasing myself. My palace might look dark and forbidding from the outside—as intended—but on the inside, I have everything I could want. Sumptuous furnishings, the best wines and food brought in by thejynx—my shadow servants—musical instruments to play, and numerous other luxuries. My library alone is filled with more reading material than I could manage in a lifetime.
I do not miss company. When I require companionship, I spend time with Plutus, taking him out for a jaunt. When I wish to satisfy my carnal urges, I don a disguise, and head out to find a pleasure slave. Since they are all Betas, I never need to worry about going into rut, or impregnating them. I slake my dark desires on their willing, supple bodies—if I like them, I ensure they, too, have their satisfaction—and then I leave.
A perfect arrangement.
When I first became king, the Pyredii begged me to be a different kind of ruler than my father. They sent emissaries to petition me, pleading that I visit their villages and bless their hunting parties and their crops. To quiet the rumbling volcano, since Mount Vracor is said to be tied to the king’s moods and will, and it spews fire when I am discontent. Or suffering from indigestion.
I scoffed then, as I do now.
Eventually, they gave up. Those who persisted in pestering me learned the hard way not to irritate their king—especially if he happens to be a demon. A few flights over Mount Vracor when it was at its most threatening silenced my people’s whining.
Fear is an incredibly powerful tool. A great motivator. The end result was that I was able to enjoy a great number of years of being left alone, in peace, with no one begging, demanding, or requiring anything of me—at least, not in person. I still receive the occasional missive, but they’re set aside. Ignored. I have no interest in what the common folk have to tell me.
Until today.
Ajynxbrings me a message from the head of Solum, the village closest to my palace. Apparently, they have a gift for me. An offering. As someone who wants for nothing, who can conjure up almost anything he desires, I am bemused by the notion. Then I hear that since they are too afraid to bring this gift directly to me, I must go and fetch it myself, like some common delivery whelp. My bemusement immediately turns into irritation.
I refuse to be summoned. I send ajynxahead to see what this offering might be, and whether it’s worth leaving the comfort of my castle to obtain.
Thejynxreturns and whispers a single word in my ear. Certain I misheard, I ask him to repeat it. And again.
Omega.
The ground shudders. In the distance, Mount Vracor smokes.
