Devdan Manor

The darkness wouldn’t open for him. He couldn’t see the hallway. Felt like he was walking through a massive hole lined with centuries of loneliness. He could walk forever in this soundless world- feeling nothing. And no one.

He had never come across such magic. He was a demon. His home was darkness. What kind of power could create a darkness even a demon would despise? Who used to live here?

He was tired of this. His heart jumped. His ears strained— longing for any signs of life. His skin burned for company. The darkness was playing with his mind—leading him to believe he would be here alone forever.

Cyl called his light, commanded it to find every light fixture he passed and make a home there until he no longer needed it there.

Paintings protected by onyx frames taller than he was lined his path.

At least the markings were gone.

They weren’t. They were in the paintings. He’d never known someone so obsessed with words. If only he knew what they meant. He saw a pattern. It meant nothing if he didn’t know what the markings meant.

The beings in the paintings were radiant. The demons he met all had a savage aura. They could be attractive, but never so glowing. Were these beings in these paintings even demons? Maybe they were humans. Why would paintings of humans be in the demon world? No, their eyes were red, violet and deep black. They weren’t human. Male or female. It didn’t matter. They were all beautiful.

He had heard stories of demons that lived in the light. Whose sole purpose was to protect some land in the human world or a gate between worlds. Could these be those demons?

Maybe the artist exaggerated the subjects’ features. That was the only logical explanation. No demon could be that perfect.

The hall emptied into a kitchen almost as large at the entrance hall. The markings were here too— chiseled into the stone walls.

Tink, tink, tink.

Sounded like glass hitting each other. It came from the pantry. He never felt so blind.

Tink, tink, tink.

Too consistent to be an act of nature. Sounded like small demons were in the pantry. He couldn’t sense anything. He pointed. The light rushed into the pantry.

Numerous jars sat on tall shelves. They covered every wall.

Tink, tink, tink.

He didn’t see anything more. He needed to go in there. Damn. This was not the best idea. Didn’t have a choice. This was why they needed to search this place. What if this small sound turned into a demon who went after Ryse?

He let his power bleed out of him to form a skin-tight barrier around him. The shield was as strong as he was. As long as the demon in there wasn’t more powerful than he was, it couldn’t touch him. He shot power out of his hand. The glowing blue line reached the floor. Too much. He still didn’t have much control over his power. Cyl pulled back. The line became about as long as dagger. He created the Antun house dagger in his hand. Silver lines twisted and wrapped around the handle and ran up the blade.

The dagger could’ve been plain. It had taken him years to master this. He would admit. He wasted precious energy focusing on decorating his blade. Still, seeing it made him smile. Creating a blade with the Antun marking was worth it just to see the horror and disgust in his family’s faces and to feel the pride spilling from Uryl.