A Different Kind of Despair

by Nicole Martinsen

  Pretend? He laughed. My Lady, you said so yourself -you'd slice the throats of those who killed your tribe. Now that I have the opportunity to poke around in your head I can see that you meant it. Ooh, look at what we have here~ is this your mother, little Shaman?

  An image of my ma'man sprung to the forefront of my thoughts. I could see her grinning as though she pulled off another one of her jokes at my expense. My heart constricted, and the little girl I used to be sobbed in a corner of my soul.

  Quite the beauty. You take after her in this regard, I must say.

  "No one asked you," I croaked. "Now knock it off."

  Tut, tut! Just a moment -the others still have two more corridors before they catch up. Can't start the party without them now can we?

  "Get out of my head, Koronos."

  Sweet girl, release me and I'd be more than happy to do just that. Now, do pardon me if I'm a bit presumptuous in saying so, but isn't that the exact opposite of what you should be doing?

  He was toying with me, with my mind and with my emotions, and I despised him for it. Once again that anger, which I'd temporarily forgotten in my haste, returned. He could only do this because of my weakness. Ma'man, what do I do?

  How precious! Do you honestly believe yourself mature enough to temper that hatred within you? He was getting more and more confident, I could feel it, in his ability to provoke me. It's such a shame. Hatred can be a powerful tool, you know. Spite, in particular, seems to be a favorite among women such as yourself. Hatred is motive, fuel, and power all in one. Just imagine what you could do if you honed yours. I seldom speak the entire truth, my dear, but I meant what I told you earlier. It's been an age since I've seen such raw, unbridled potential. Why, just look at yourself!

  Before I'd even realized it I was supporting myself by leaning up against the wall. My hybrid appearance was more apparent than ever with my face only inches from the quartz. Formosa had weakened Koronos considerably, but I was no where near experienced enough to prevent him from goading me to my limits. I paced myself with deep breaths, as though with each exhale I removed some of his taint from my body. But it was no use. He was just too cunning.

  You're quite a catch like this. You'd make a fine demoness, I must say. Those horns! That scorching rage! Oh if only I was a few centuries younger I daresay you'd be the apple of my wandering eye.

  "Me? A demon? You must be joking."

  I heard Marvin and Formosa pull up behind me. Diana was also trailing close at hand.

  "Please tell me you're all ready," I muttered, my voice resonating with the devil's syrup. Marvin placed a hand on my arm.

  Once again, his concern drew me back into the present. In my monstrous form he saw Miraj... only Miraj. His tiny smile did more to pull me together than I could manage in a year. Koronos, while still there in my head, was silenced as a result.

  "I love you." The words tumbled out of my mouth without knowing that I'd said them.

  As expected, Marvin didn't return the phrase, but he did give my hand a comforting squeeze.

  "I'll be going around the back. Raise some hell in there, Miraj. But most importantly, stay as safe as you possibly can."

  I raised an eyebrow at him. "Safety and charging into the fray don't exactly go hand in hand."

  "So make an exception just this once," he smirked. "After all, who can argue against the word of a Shaman?"

  "You're quite docile today," I noted, leaning closer. "I liked you better when you fought with me."

  "There'll be plenty of time for that later."

  "Two years worth of time."

  "Two years and the rest of our very long lives," he corrected me.

  Formosa backhanded her son to the side of his head. "You have a job to do. Take that damned golem and run."

  Marvin snaked around the bend after sharing his sour expression with me. He stuck his tongue out behind his mother's back for good measure. I had no idea he was capable of being so childish. It warmed my heart in the most unexpected way.

  "Now you, Miraj, pay close attention." The woman motioned to the space before us.

  Unlike most everything else, the great double doors were made of wood. Vines and elegant flowers coiled in line with its impressive, complex grain. It also smelled sweet to me, sickeningly so. I wheezed a bit as we stepped closer.

  "Everything past these doors is poison, Miraj. The only ones unaffected are non-fleshy undead, the Crone, and the Sickly Sisters themselves."

  "I'm sorry -Sickly Sisters?"

  "Other members of House Astheneia," Formosa explained. "They're quite worn-looking, covered in scars and burns, not hard to spot. It's also more than likely that the Crone turned them into some lesser demons, so take those out first."

  "And necromancers?" I asked.

  "Nearly all of us have white or gray hair. It should simplify things. Kill the demons, spare everyone else. I'll seek out the old hag myself."

  "Alright," I said. "I'm ready."

  She gave me a curt nod; I tore the door straight off its hinges.

  Formosa was right; the Sickly Sisters were extremely apparent.

  Whatever guise they had before, the Crone's minions were presently exposed for the monsters they truly were. Vines, pulsing like human veins, coiled around their bodies. They had no skin from what I could tell, as these creatures were covered by muscle tendons in a vaguely female shape.

  Wild hair, comprised of dozens of tiny serpents, hissed on my entrance. Soon the chamber was filled with the sound of their reptilian rage, drowning out the murmuring of necromancers in the room.

  They'll try to bash their heads against you, Koronos warned me; suspicious in and of itself. Don't let them.

  "And why should I listen to you?"

  Unless you would enjoy seeing your limbs swell to the point of blowing off, then by all means, don't take my advice.

  I swallowed hard as the first Sister charged forward -as Koronos predicted, she meant to ram me headfirst.

  Allow me.

  Despite being weakened, Koronos knew how to take advantage of my uncertainty. Unlike Diana, who had asked permission before using my body, Koronos tore the control right out of my proverbial hands. I watched in alarm as I turned sideways, whipping my tail hard against the abdomen of my attacker.

  I felt her bones breaking on contact. The demonic appendage curved so that she flew to the right of me. Koronos raised my arm, extended a handful of gnarly nails, and tore deeply into the Crone's minion.

  I wasn't a stranger to bloodshed. One couldn't last a day among the Tribes without seeing tests of strength or a well-meaning fistfight. I'd hurled spears at boars and shot a faun with a bow before wrestling it to the ground.

  But this was the first time I've fought for the express purpose of killing. What worried me was that it didn't feel like the first time at all.

  The blood of demons was black, but it felt hot, comforting. I sensed the entertainment of the devil inside of me as I twisted my hand deeper into the twitching body, her shrieking falling on deaf ears. It felt so-

  -addicting, isn't it?

  I didn't have time to respond to his question as two more Sickly Sisters came at me.

  The necromancers were smart, immediately moving towards the sidelines. Those who were closest to the door began to trickle out. I caught sight of Formosa as she jumped between this reality and the Grey, an unstoppable huntress on her quest to find the Crone.

  Koronos tried to wrest control of my body once again, but this time he didn't have to. My tail was my most valuable asset. It was strong, quick, and small enough that it wasn't a worthy target for these monsters. Whip and slash. It was simple and effective, and I soon realized that I didn't even need to carve into these women to kill them.

  I just hurled their disfigured bodies across the room. Every crack of a broken bone brought a smile to my face.

  It didn't take long before I turned the tides, seeking out the Sickly Sisters rather than wait for them to come to me. I actually hoped they were
still alive after I tossed them into pillars and walls; their steady stream would mean a consistent high for me.

  My reason for being here was getting lost in the ecstasy I felt. Koronos, strangely enough, was the one tethering me to my senses.

  Restraint, my Lady. It's what separates beings like us from brutes like them.

  I raised my foot off the crushed skull of a demon below me, realizing for the first time that the few who remained were twitching fearfully on the ground. This was no longer a matter of defending myself, but of senselessly tearing them apart.

  "Us?" I breathed, shocked at the smile in my voice. "I'm nothing like you."

  How adorable! Truly, my Lady. As Shaman you should know this better than anyone; apart from the very beginning, I didn't resist your control once. Take a look around.

  I did as Koronos asked. There wasn't a wall unmarked by gore. I've seen people die in hunts. There's a lot of blood, but it just pools beneath them. Bones and bile lay scattered around me, lost in puddles of ruptured organs and sinew. Koronos laughed in the back of my mind.

  All this was your work. Yours and yours alone. I couldn't have done a better job myself.

  The thought wasn't reassuring.

  It's a work of art. Not a masterpiece, not yet, but you can see passion! Rage. Euphoria. My dear, you are more a demon than I was the first day I stepped on this earth.

  "Shut up," I growled. "No one asked you for your opinion."

  Angry, are we?

  "Yes. And unless you stop talking I'll-"

  You'll what?

  The threat never made it past my lips. Koronos had cornered me using my own logic. I sensed him smiling.

  Tear me apart? Whip me across the room? Oh I've seen exactly what you're capable of, sweet Shaman. It's the reason I'm being so well behaved. You see, most mortals run a different course from us demons. They need to be coaxed, bribed, tricked into walking into our schemes. You, on the other hand, are so like us to begin with. I don't need to do anything for you to reach that conclusion on your own.

  "I'm nothing like you," I whispered hoarsely, dropping to the ground. Despite my hardest searching, I wasn't disgusted by the bloodbath around me. It was comforting, deep, deep down, and I knew it.

  Ahh, denial. Let's see… do you want further proof? Look at yourself. Look at the black blood right in front of you.

  I was smiling, faintly, in relief, as though I had just scratched a maddening itch. I was covered in shallow cuts and plenty of bruises, but it was the blood of demons, running down my skin, that gave me the greatest pause.

  I didn't do that.

  I squeezed my eyes shut. "Don't say it."

  You did.

  "Who are you?"

  I looked up, feeling Koronos shrinking back, like a wounded dog. A ghastly old woman stood on a balcony overlooking the hall.

  When I say "old woman" I use that term loosely.

  An old woman's skin hung off this person. She was covered in saffron flowers. The blossoms were sharp, jagged, and surrounded by thorns. Her head, like the heads of the Sickly Sisters, was covered in serpents. And then there were her eyes, golden and deadly, scourging the scene before her, absorbing every detail to the point of obsession.

  "Are you Mahlah?"

  The question no sooner left my mouth than she appeared before me, sprouting from the blackened blood so quickly that I barely moved out of the way in time.

  "Diana?" she quizzed. "No. I know you."

  She grabbed my chin in her talon fingers, emanating such ferocious strength I knew she could crush my head in her nails alone.

  She's gotten stronger.

  Koronos was taken aback -this was concerning in and of itself.

  Little Shaman, find a way out as soon as you can. She's not an opponent you can defeat… or I can, for that matter.

  There was a grudging tone to his admission, one brimming with resentment and a curious brand of respect.

  "Koronos!" she exclaimed, a noxious plume of gas spewing from her mouth. "What are you doing in there?"

  Miraj, if you want to live then you need to let me speak.

  The fact that he was using my name instead of some flowery title cued me into the urgency of this situation. I prayed that Formosa would find the Eyes soon.

  "I took a liking to this girl." My voice was tinged with an otherworldly snarl. "I caught her wandering the Grey and decided to have some fun."

  "Fun?" asked the Crone. I feared she saw through the lie, or the half-truth, whatever Koronos wanted to call it. "You were to keep an eye on Marvin."

  "That's where I caught onto a bit of a snag," he confessed. "Formosa found me first. She made it so I couldn't leave this body, and therefore, I couldn't inform you of his whereabouts."

  "Formosa." The name came out as a snarl. The Crone released me, pacing through the sea of gore. "Formosa," she said again, this time in a pleasant fashion. "She's a Shaman Mother. She was so good at her charade that I'd nearly forgotten…"

  The Crone spun on her padded heel, sneering in my direction.

  "And she's stronger than you, Koronos? You ought to be ashamed of yourself."

  Something sinister bubbled from the demon within me. His pride was wounded, but there was also a sense of resolution. The Crone was powerful, but not infallible. She couldn’t see beyond our masquerade so far.

  "No matter. Let's get you out of that pesky puppet. Playtime is over."

  She moved, and Koronos lunged back. Cold speculation tore across her malformed face.

  "I rather like this form," said Koronos. I felt him scrambling for an excuse. It dawned on me that the Crone meant to free him by tearing my body to pieces. "It has its… uses. Do me the favor of allowing me to keep it; after all, Marvin is already here in Nethermountain. Do you really think he can escape?"

  Something was wrong. The Crone was onto us.

  "Not with my pets wandering its halls," she admitted, but then she kicked a skull of one of the Sickly Sisters towards us. "But then there's this. This is excessive, Koronos, even for a beast like you."

  "Formosa bid me to unleash chaos, giving time for the necromancers to escape House Astheneia."

  "Formosa is strong… for a human," the Crone agreed. "But I never realized she was powerful enough to sway you."

  "Evidently, she couldn't maintain that control for long," Koronos continued, finding a solution in all of this. "I stopped, did I not?"

  "Hmph." She turned. "Walk with me, Koronos. You might learn something."

  I scrambled after her, walking at nearly twice my usual speed just to keep up with her long strides.

  We seem to have fooled her… for now.

  The corridors of House Astheneia were covered in vines and purple nightshade. No surface was devoid of foliage, to the point where I began to question whether we were indoors.

  The deeper we went the darker it became, until I spotted a green light at the end of this very dim tunnel.

  We entered a natural cavern, complete with glowworms and an emerald pool. This was a garden, wild, but well tended, and so sickly sweet that I felt the human part of me vomit in the back of my throat. Koronos growled somewhere in my head.

  This was the reason the Crone transformed those women into devilkin. The air here is too toxic for your kind to survive. You should be alright for a time, since we're bound together like this, but know that your ability to keep us fused won't last nearly as long.

  Cold sweat trickled down the sides of my face. The Crone led us to a massive flower.

  Unlike the garden around us, this plant reeked of death -and was curiously pleasant as a result. It was the largest single flower I'd ever seen, with each of its five spotted petals twice the size of my hand.

  While I was preoccupied with the plant, Koronos was more concerned about what was kept inside its hollow.

  "The Eyes of the Leviathan," he said through my mouth, to which the Crone grinned, revealing her curved set of teeth.

  "An infuriating artifact, to be sure," she re
sponded. "I've spent the last two years siphoning its power, but remain unable to take its core for myself."

  "Sounds rather uncreative for you, Mistress."

  "At the heart of the matter, devils are an uncreative bunch," the Crone remarked. "We seek power to sow chaos, and the cycle expands and continues. And frankly, some base desires are welcome after these centuries of creativity. It's embarrassing how long Inval's soul has managed to escape my grasp."

  "A mystery, to be sure."

  "Yes and no."

  The response wasn't what Koronos had been expecting. The Crone raised the Eyes in her hand, giving me the opportunity to get lost in their scarlet, swirling depths.

  Their cores were enclosed within a spherical sea of mist. There was something familiar about them. Something…

  "Inval became a Ghostwalker," she snorted, drawing me from my musing. "I tried to take his soul, but… how can I put this politely? My claim was superseded."

  "Hn, yes, I can see how that would be troublesome," Koronos mused aloud. "But I was under the impression that it was a loss. It was quite a surprise that he was reincarnated."

  "A part of him," the Crone stipulated. "A tiny part hardly even worth mentioning. But as I loathe having that blemish my perfect record, I'm going to take what I can get my hands on, even if Marvin is a failure and a coward." She cast one glowing eye on me, her lips quirked down in a scathing little frown. "But since you answer to him I suppose that makes you the bigger failure. You disappoint me, Koronos. I don't need to tell you how much I hate being disappointed, do I?"

  It was an insult and a threat all rolled into one. My body shivered as Koronos lowered his gaze.

  "No, Mistress."

  I heard something towards the back of the room. Shifting. Scuttling. Koronos flicked our combined gazes towards the Crone. I felt a surge of adrenaline.

  With those snakes hissing as loud as they are, it's no wonder she can't hear it.

  The Crone lost herself in the depths of the Eyes. I wondered whether Formosa finally caught up to us.

  Instead, I spotted a blur in the background. Something was moving through the Grey. Since the Crone made no move to peer into that realm this visitor was invisible.