The Demon Mage Pt. 02

"They are going to execute you."

I exclaim, trying desperately to calm down, but feeling myself smothered by emotions I didn't have time to comprehend.

My mother, Drakas... I can't lose her too.

"If that is my fate. . . So be it. I've known nothing beyond this cause. It was my life."

My face burned with tears that threatened to rise to the surface. I hold the bar of the cell tight, to stop my quivering body. The voice that spoke to me through the dark was that of a person who was already dead. The confidence, the beauty of her soft and alluring voice was gone.

I hear that voice in the same darkness of my bedroom, at the foot of my bed where both sat naked:

You can choose to have this great power, yet you flee from it.

A new sense of purpose was surging through my body.

I'll do anything. She has to come with me.

"Right now, you can choose to have the control of your own life, yet you're fleeing from it. Right now, we can leave this place, together."

I throw my hand into the black, desperately reaching, pleading to the woman just beyond that reach.

"You can choose to be controlled by the world, or you can fight for yourself, for what you believe in."

All there was for what felt like hours was the pounding of my heart.

But the glint of silver eyes jut through the darkness, and a cold hand folds into mine.

...

The stone halls stretched endlessly.

Our feet pounded against the flooring, sending sharp echoes of footsteps clattering against the narrow walls.

Morgana was in the lead, her hand unconsciously tight in mine as she maneuvered the halls.

She spoke, and her voice was petite against the clamoring of our footsteps.

"Laizen... I don't know if we can do this..."

I don't answer her.

The possibility that this is going to end, that we'll never see each other again. . .

What we knew as the truth hung heavily between us, no matter how much we rejected it.

We pass by the grand conference room doors, coming to mossy stone steps in a jumbled disarray.

Before taking to the steps, Morgana looked back to me. Her silvery eyes look into mine as if it were going to be the last time.

"We're getting close to the exit."

She said softly.

Her hand lightly pressed onto my face, the clawed hand was cold, shivering, but the delicate reddish skin felt at home on my features. Her eyes waver over the horns sprouted shortly from my head, to the glow of my eyes.

"You didn't ask for any of this. This life of a demon... "

She trailed off, almost looking flustered.

"But you make a handsome Incubus, Laizen."

Her face was inches from mine, her hand curling on my short beard and her eyes bearing into mine like a hot metal. She suddenly turns away, climbing the steps, her tattered rag of a dress fluttering as she goes.

Feeling a heat of embarrassment that I had been momentarily entranced, I snap out of it and follow her.

My ears begin popping at the change in elevation as we bound up the staircase.

As we near the top, I feel a presence, something approaching the top of the staircase quickly.

Morgana was almost there.

I race over the steps, my body taking over my mind, and wrenching Morgana away from the staircase's landing as the black mist of a ghoul hurdles past, the claws of the beast inside reaching out and snapping towards her.

Before us stood my father, dressed with fine leather and fur, his flame like eyes glinting maliciously. Around him, a group of ghouls and other demons stood at the ready, wielding weapons and hellfire in their grasps.

My father looked at Morgana and I with amusement.

I step in front of her, holding an arm out to guard her.

"My, my,"

His deep voice boomed over the crowd of demons.

"Quite the beautiful demon couple I see before me."

He held a hand out, his eyes burning into mine.

"Now give up this childish rebellion. Join your father as the heir of the throne."

I look over my shoulder to Morgana, who looks hopelessly at the man before us.

"There is no other way."

Agnes spat.

I take a step forward. I felt my muscles involuntarily contract, the hot spread of hell fire sprouted from my hands and arms, curling over my body, and flooding over the floor towards my father.

My aura surged through my veins, spilling over the crowd of demons who stumble backward.

An expression I had never seen passes over my father's features. He takes a step back, looking over my shirtless body, realizing that I was different. I looked into those scolding eyes, and what lay behind that facade of power was fear.

I could hear Morgana begin to slip downwards at the weight of my aura, crouching over the ground and trembling. Her heart pulsed vigorously in her chest, but I couldn't stop myself. My body acted on its own, wanting my father to feel that weight, that fear of what he created.

"We leave,"

A roar reverates my throat, tearing through the monsters before me.

"Or I will kill you and every last demon who stops me."

My father erupts into a blaze of orange, the cracks on his face peeling off and shattering to the ground, revealing the black of rotten flesh under his feature. His body was convulsing, long, wicked black claws sprouting from his fingertips, causing blood to spurt over the ground. What stood before me was a corpse burning from the inside.

He screams, and the morbid, dead sound ripples my body.

"IF YOU LEAVE NOW, I WILL DESTROY EVERYTHING YOU LOVE. YOU STEP OUTSIDE, AND YOU'VE BEGAN THE DEMON-HUMAN WAR."

I look to my father's face, his features a macabre of rage.

I stifled my aura, and offered a hand to Morgana, who stood looking to me, crouched on the floor.

She shakily takes it.

Hand in hand with Morgana, I walk past my father.

Shifting through the demons, their eyes and stench followed us as we came to a pair of doors.

I take the handle, its metal cold in my hand, knowing that if I open this door, I can never go back.

I pull it open, and an Incubus and a Succubus steps into the world beyond.

...

"Mannel, is something wrong?"

I open my eyes, hearing her voice.

The makeshift stone of my cell lays empty before me, the sun of the barred window spilling over the cracking floor, its rays floating with particles that hovered like delicate flies in the light.

The voice, Melony's voice, had been my nothing but my imagination.

I pinch the edge of my nose, sitting up on the thick animal skin of my prison cot.

How long had I been asleep?

I close my eyes, remembering Laizen, his large, intimidating demon form, smashing a demon's skull into the ground. Lucius Gorren... I stepped in front of Laizen to stop the head mage from...

I groan, running my hands over my eyes and brow.

Everything went black. I was on the ground the next thing I knew, and Lucius along with many other mages were bearing down on me.

And I was taken... Here.

I grip the material of my cloak. I felt my body growing hot, and I shrugged it off, hurling it across the prison cell. It loosely slams against the stone wall, and hits the floor.

Why. Why did I stop the head mage?

Lucious suspicious eyes, as we sat in his office, as I lied to him.

Why couldn't I tell him?

I slammed my fist into the cot, and it creaked weakly in reply.

I see him standing over me in the bathroom, clutching his hair, struggling with something I could never imagine.

His deep, echoing voice yells inside my head, as if he were in the cell with me.

"This is my body!"

I remember the scrawny mage, shouldering his bag of spell books. A mage who had no real power, but studied, never faltering to pursue what he wanted.

It was what I wanted at his age.

My parents scoffed at my aspirations of becoming a mage. I had little to no aura to my name, and my family had little to no mages in our ancestry. But I had never let up. After getting accepted to Velmont, I studied, I rose through the ranks of mage, and became an instructor years later.

I put my face in my hands.

Even from the glowing eyes of a demon, I could still see that weak mage. A man thrown into a life he didn't ask for.

"What is he asleep down there?"

I hear Melony's voice break through the silence of the cell. I close my eyes as memories come crashing down on me.

I lay on the large, soft bed of my room adorn with animal fur.

My wife's voice called from our bathroom.

"You stayed home from the school today, hon?"

I flip through an instruction book of spell casting posture, not really paying attention to its contents.

"Yeah, w-wasn't feeling very good since yesterday."

I say absentmindedly.

I hear Melony's footsteps pad lightly into the room.

"Aw,"

She said lightly, she was rummaging through some drawers in the room.

"Anything happen yesterday?"

I flinch, closing my eyes from the pages of the book, flashes of Laizen's eyes delving into mine, his aura writhing through mine, feelings inside of me being altered and skewed.

I felt the weight shift on the bed, breaking me from my thoughts, and I looked up.

My wife was dressed in flowing drapes of chiffon. Her form was busty and curvaceous, her nipples rigid in the air beneath her clothing. A seductive gleam was set into her blue eyes.

"Is there anything..."

She cooed, climbing up my legs.

My throat tightened as her hand pressed into my groin, gripping the bulge of my assets, pressing her palm into them in an alluring massage.

"...I can do, to make you feel better?"

Her lips curl into mine. She shoves the book from my stomach, takes one of my hands, and presses it into one of her bulbous breasts.

My body felt numb. My heartbeat was a dull throb in my chest.

My wife opened her eyes, looking down to my crotch.

She unbuckled my pants, pulling them down to reveal a lifeless, soft cock.

She gives me a curious look.

"What, is he asleep down there?"

She said, taking me by the shaft and attempting to coax it into an erection.

It bore no fruits.

"I- just don't feel very good, dear."

I say quickly, attempting to not reveal the fear in the back of my throat.

She straightens, pulling her translucent clothing tight around her naked form, a gesture that looked to be embarrassed.

By her expression, failing to put me in the mood was steadily distressing her.

"Mannel, is something wrong?"

Her words were high-pitched, and disgruntled.

I sit up sharply.

"Honey- it's nothing-"

I cut off, finding myself struggling to speak, feeling sheepish, wrong.

Both of us knew it wasn't nothing.

She picks herself off the bed, ripping off her clothing, rummaging through the drawers to find something proper to wear.

She pauses, a hand clenched into the fabric of an undergarment, her body visibly tense.

"Are you not attracted to me anymore?"

The words sink into me like a knife. I wanted to say something- anything- to put her at ease. My mouth mindlessly spouted lies to her.

"It's just a little hiccup- stress from work."

She turns abruptly towards me. She pulls on a blouse, her arms slightly shaky.

"We've been together for five years,"

She says, her face reddening.

"And in that time with you, I've experienced the kind of man, the kind of person you. You are an honest, loving, and good man. I've witnessed the many things that you are, and horny is one of them."

She slips on pants, pressing her hands around her face. It was something she always did under severe stress.

I pull my pants up, getting to my feet.

"That's not fair- I can't always be-"

She raises her hands suddenly, her eyes glaring into mine.

"Then tell me- look me in the eyes and tell me that nothing is wrong. That you're attracted to me."

I felt frozen to my limbs. I tried moving, to say something.

"I-"

But my voice faltered. I couldn't bear to look into her eyes, and turn away.

Tears break from her eyelids, gliding over her feverish features.

"Then a whore-house might better suit you."

She hissed under her breath. She left me standing alone in the room.

The vicious slam of the door in her wake wrenches me from my memories.

I abruptly pulled my face from my hands, the harsh sunlight of the window in the cell burning my eyes that had adjusted to the darkness.

I pull my hair, my body feeling like it was burning from the inside.

What is happening to me?

Images of the bathroom littered with the rubble of the ceiling pass through my vision, my knees pressing against the stone floor, and Laizen, his swollen member thick and rigid before me.

Amidst the memories coursing through me, my cock stirs in my pants.

The old familiar sensation rises in my chest, stirring up and down my stomach and groin.

No- no- no-

I try to block out the thoughts, to block out Laizen.

Am I-

"Mannel Reckner."

A voice breaks the silence and forces me out of my thoughts. I look up to see a man draped in King's Guard robes standing outside of the cell, his hood pulled over withering strands of white hair, and an aging face. In his grip was a pair of shackles, aura-dampening runes etched into its rusting metal.

I stand, my feet numb from a lack of use.

"Yes."

I say, eyeing the King's Guard mage warily.

The man utters some sort of enchantment, the door of the prison cell slides slowly open.

"By the order of the King, you will serve your final sentence."

Final sentence? I haven't received a hearing.

The man steps in and shackles me.

I'm being led through the prison block of the castle, the eyes of fellow inmates watching me curiously as we pass. Their rugged faces caked with grime and feces press out from the cell bars, shouting unpleasantries to the mage who led me.

We came to a short set of cobblestone stairs that led to an iron door. A barred window gave a glimpse of murky sky, the sun breaking through the stormy mess and casting sun to the world below.

With a tug of the chain connected to my shackles, the mage beckons me to continue up the steps with him, pulling me out of my entranced gaze at the sky.

He shoulders the iron door, and then we step into the expanse of the courtyard.

What awaited me was a crowd of roaring people.

We walked to a short podium in the center of the courtyard, the gathered spectators held at one of the opposing ends of the courtyard. I could recognize the cloaks of Velmont students, the shabby attire of peasants, and nobles dressed in their garments of silk and vibrant color. King's Guard knights and mages circled the courtyard and held the crowds back.

The people were exponentially different. But their words were the same:

"YOU TRAITOROUS BASTARD."

"OUR TEACHER. A DEMON-LOVER."

"ROT IN HELL YOU FILTHY CUNT."

Their mouths shaped the words and screams, but I could barely hear them. My body felt somewhere far away. Suddenly a woman pushes herself to the front of the crowd of screaming people, and Melony and I meet eyes. The damp shine of tears speckle her fair face. Her eyes pleaded with mine, embodying a grief that was excruciating to witness. I wanted to run to her. I wanted to scream to her, and I felt tears hot in my eyelids.

I open my mouth, but the chained shackles are suddenly wrenched, turning me to face forward.

Before me stood the king's hand and announcer, followed by the king himself, dressed in a fine shirt of gold and brown, his tall and rather plump body adorn with jewels. A glinting crown pointed askew over his ruffles of greying hair he had attempted to comb, but seemingly didn't succeed in.

To his left, standing nearby, was the high council. The head mage of Velmont stood among the men and women, and I avoided the grave and spiteful glare of his gaze. Standing beside them, his masculine form and insidious black robes standing out among the well dressed high council, was the city's executioner. His sleeves were purposely torn, revealing the illegal runes gifted only to an executioner sworn to his duty, etched permanently into his well built arms, their shapes sinister and demonic, scrawling over his skin like a blackened scar. Upon activation, those runes will instantly, painlessly, kill me. A perfect and untraceable death.

The King's hand, clearing this throat, loudened by a voice amplification charm, startled me out of my blank gaze at the men and women before me.

"Reckner Mannel, former instructor of Velmont, you stand before the king's council guilty of high treason, and suspicion of collaboration with demons during this time of nearing war."

He was a scrawny man in comparison to the king, who's high pitched voice rang sharply through the courtyard, causing me to almost flinch.

"You, under the witness of countless mages and knights of the king's guard and Velmont, defended what had been the source of demonic infiltration of the Velmont school."

He continued, clutching parchment, his eyes never leaving the words.

"For this heinous crime of treason against your own kind, you have been sentenced to immediate execution. Do you have any final offerings to the council?"

I feel the eyes of the council on me, burning me like a beam of light under a magnifying glass. The eyes of the spectators, the mask covered eyes of the executioner, who was steadily approaching me.

I take a shuddering breath, closing my eyes.

And all I see Laizen as he stepped before me and a demon on the verge of ending my life.

I see his glowing eyes, his towering, monstrous body that nonetheless committed an utterly human act.

I find myself saying nothing to the king's hand.

The man clasps his hands together, closing his eyes for a brief moment as the finality of my silence wavers intensely over the courtyard.

"As you wish, Mr. Reckner, you are-"

Suddenly, a shimmer of orange gleams from the king's hand's eyes, and whatever it was had vanished in moments, causing me to question if it had truly happened at all. His once formal expression now contorts to some look of comprehension, as if someone had been whispered something grave in his ear.

His voice states into the deadly silent courtyard.

"Yes, King Agnes. The assault begins now."

The man turns, and a bolt of electricity leaps from his slender fingers, spiraling in a crackling spear of light into the king's chest. The man is thrusted violently from his feet.

From all around, arrows and colorful blurs of magic dance across the air, being sent into the King's high council and the crowd of spectators.

The courtyard is consumed in the chaotic smoke of magic and screams, as the guards that had been surveying the execution fire at random into the bodies of the civilians.

The ground churns as earth-type magic is activated, and my frozen body hits the dirt floor.

Shouts echo from where the King's high council stood, vibrant flashes of light visible through thick masks of smoke surrounding them, as they desperately fight off the incoming attackers.

I grip the dirt, attempting to stand when suddenly I am forced to the ground. I feel the feet and legs of people desperately running towards the gates of the courtyard trample me. I can't move, I can't breath, each futile attempt to stand resulting in my body and head being pounded into the harsh earth, that trembled like an unsettled beast.

I crawl forward, ignoring the pain that sent into my arms as feet crushed my limbs, pulling myself from bodies that fell onto me as they were met with an incoming spell. All I could think of was her. Melony, who had been in the front of all those people. The bodies of fleeing people lessen among the madness, and I stand, running blindly through the fog. My shackles blocked me from sensing her aura.

I gasp for air, and the fumes of spell conjurations burn my throat like acid.