Innocence of a Demon: Chapter One Blood

Part One: The Path to Perfection

As a child, he learned the brutal lessons of his High Lord: to kill a demon without hesitation, enjoy the thrill of a slaughter. All of the Lord’s lessons he took to heart. By the age of twenty-two, he made a name for himself in the Fourth Army. He was the High Lord's perfect weapon, one who was wielded against all who opposed the Province of Lestrial. Yet, beneath the surface, the Lord was blind to the fact that his weapon’s greatest ambition was to see him crumble to nothing.

He made all of Hell shake before his feet. There are many who have heard of how cold and merciless he was on the battlefield. Most, though, haven’t heard much else, for few actually knew him. I’ve seen him fight addictions to better himself in my eyes, I’ve seen him love and loose. He was the best friend I ever had.

This is his story that should’ve been told in his voice. It is a story of his revenge, his dreams of power and how he became the legend most know today. His name was Araken Astrales…He was the man I loved.

Chapter One: Blood

Blind to see his true nature would see a fragile angel within bars, with the moonlight falling upon his ivory blue skin, ebony tresses flowing down his delicate figure like water, sapphire eyes of the deepest blue. All that would be missing from this young child are his wings, for those unable to see his true nature as a demon. [/i]

Araken sat alone in his cage with his back against the cold steel of the bars, with only his thoughts to keep him company in this silence. Exhaling deeply, he tilted his head back to look through the bars of his cell where he could see the night sky. It was the only light that kept the darkness of the dungeon from swallowing him whole. It wasn't that he minded the dark, but tonight might be his last to have the moonlight shine on him. So he wouldn't give in to the necessity of sleep, but indulge himself with a beauty only few could truly appreciate.

For at dawn it would be overrun with the sun’s rays. At that hour he would be in a one-on-one battle to the death. High Lord Haures arranged it to test if Araken was worthy enough to live. In the past he’d been put in similar situations where he was to be in combat with another demon, but never to finality. He’d never been allowed to take the last blow.

How would it feel to take another life, to be able to at last have his first drink from the sweet wine of the heart? What if he didn’t make it that far and it was his own life to be snuffed out from existence? Through the night it was all he could think of. His anxiety grew to such an extent it actually made him wish for the dawn’s break to come over the horizon so that it would be over with.

As the light of the east came through the circular window from the ceiling, he could clearly see all of what the dark hid. The marble white floor that was veined with various shades, the pale gray stone walls and pillars that were carved with intricate detail of battles of the past eras. Just when he was beginning to admire a particularly gruesome winged demon wielding a battle-axe towards a weaponless opponent, he heard the bolts of the double doors across the room being unlatched. The heavy metal doors were pushed aside with a loud screech. A single figure walked through, followed by a large group that stayed near the entrance. Before he could even see the face of the figure clearly, he knew exactly who it was since only one demon could walk with such arrogance this early in the morning. High Lord Haures.

The High Lord dressed himself in white robes, stitched with only the finest silks from Rodervic, which flowed behind him, in sync with his footsteps. His hands were overly jeweled with gold rings embedded with various gems. Still, the obvious wealth isn't what made one want to step away from this predator, it was his battle hardened face, and the Marks of three tattooed on top of his skull. Then, of course, there was the sharp glare of Haures’s eyes which most demons avoided so not to be cut in half. Araken, however, was not most demons, and he met the High Lord’s eyes with his own icy gaze. Haures’s steps glided across the marble as he came within a foot of Araken, who was now standing defiantly behind the bars as he kept eye contact. With his hands clasped behind his back the High Lord leaned down so that the only thing that separated them was the inch thick bars. After a few moments of being eye level with this demon Lord, Araken snarled and bared his fangs. In response the High Lord backed away with a chuckle and smug grin on his lips.

“Well, can I presume you didn’t have a good night's rest with your foul mood? Such a pity… no matter, you are still only minutes away from either making the years I trained you worth it or a complete waste of time. So do me proud and live to breathe another tomorrow. Or your damned soul will be my slave till the end of time,” he finished with a tongue that leaked poison.

“Am I not already?” Araken replied with a hiss.

“No, of course not; at the moment I am making you into the best weapon you can be,” he responded in a casual tone.

“So this match is the stepping stone,” Araken snorted.

“Yes, that is exactly what this will be if you succeed. It’s not to be taken lightly. Since it will be your first kill, it will be perfectly normal if you feel remorse…” he said with an undertone of false sympathy.

“That won’t be a problem. As long as I get to follow in the ritual of my blood’s traditions with a first kill.”

“You want the taste of his blood…as distasteful as it is; I was prepared for this by one of my own retainers who told me of what is, as you put it, tradition to your kind. As long as he’s dead, I could care less what you do with him afterward. Though you are not allowed to use any of your mind or Elemental abilities and neither will your opponent during the match, understood?”

“Yes.”

“Good, well then all we have to do is wait.”

With twin scimitars gripped tightly in his hands, Araken stood directly in front of the open door, holding his breath as he waited for the demon who could leave him nothing more than a corpse, or what would be his first steps into becoming the High Lord’s weapon Once the thought went through his mind, a man entered, dressed in black from head to toe, save for a slit which revealed blank white eyes. The only sound in the dungeon was the light taps the man made as he walked with lethal grace. He stopped about twenty feet away from Araken, and for a moment just stared at him; not a word escaped the man’s lips, but a raspy obnoxious laugh.

“My old friend, is this some sort of joke you’re playing on me? Seriously, this boy can barely hold those scimitars, and he's so young I’m going to have to fight him on my knees.” Araken let out a growl as he sprang forward. He brought his swords up in front of his chest as he closed in on his opponent, quickly making crisscross slashes across his opponent's torso, bringing forth blood.

“Then kneel,” Araken said between clenched teeth.

He heard a gasp of surprise, but took no real notice as he dropped to his hunches. As he was about to cut the man’s legs his opponent finally joined the battle and dropped his long sword to his side and swung up. Before he saw the movement his head was being thrown up as the blade sliced his jaw line. Araken doubled back and stood looking straight into the man’s dead-like eyes as blood trickled from both his chin and own twins. It stained the pure marble floor, but before this match was over it wouldn’t be trickles but pools of red.

Neither of them moved from their spots as they sized up the other. Araken knew this demon had the advantage in both speed and strength and, of course, experience. So he would just have to outsmart him and cut him down with haste, and since this man probably still underestimated him, all he had to do was bide his time.

A crooked smile spread across his face as he rushed at his opponent once more, mimicking his first attack, only to have the sound of clashing echo through the dungeon as his blades met the long sword. His boots slipped slightly as his scimitars cradled the heavy longed sword. Seeing the advantage the man pressed forward more forcefully. Before Araken's guard could be broken, though, he jumped backwards. Once his feet hit the ground he lunged forward just as the man thrust upward with an attack that would've spilt him from hip to shoulder. Araken rolled into it, and it missed it by a hair. Now back on his feet he crouched as he stabbed the man’s right thigh with his left sword. Blood immediately began to gush from the wound. He tried to pull back on his weapon, but released his grip a little too late to evade the knee that rammed into his chin with a crunch. The blow knocked him onto his back, the shadow of the man in black covered him. Pain radiated from his chest as his heart was pierced in a downward thrust. It caused crimson to bloom from the tip of the sword.

Soon his body was molten but his blood ran through veins of ice.

Araken clenched down his teeth as the Hell Frost of the metal circulated through his whole body. He struggled almost frantically as he was pinned between the floor and blade. It didn’t last long since he was then lifted into the air. He used his hands to hold himself from going any deeper onto the sword. When he looked down all he saw were dead white eyes. He knew if he didn’t act fast this would end in his death. A harsh gasp fell from his lips as he felt himself being hefted even higher with a powerful jerk-like motion, then flying across the room. The seconds he was in mid-air he saw blurs of the demons that watched with impassive eyes, then High Lord Haures, who scrutinized and analyzed his short comings in the battle with disdain. This only motivated him to prove to them that they underestimated his desire to live this day through.

Twisting and turning his limbs before what would’ve been a heavy landing he instead slid on the toes of his boots on the slick surface of marble. With his scimitar held in a guard, the long sword instantly followed with a loud clash as edge met edge. His opponent pressed him beyond his strength and caused his scimitar to shake. The man with white eyes pushed all his weight so far that the sword shallowly cut into Araken’s shoulder. Cursing the damned man, he reached for his still stuck sword with his free hand. Before his opponent could see this as a feint, Araken had already twisted his blade forcefully around the long sword, causing it to go skidding. Without losing a beat, blank eyes evaded his slash at his thighs and ran to the fallen weapon. Araken rushed him, making sure his heavy steps were heard for his opponent to know he was on his heels. Just when his foe reached his sword, Araken leaped as high as his current conditions would allow him. The man in black saw this as an aerial attack and drove his blade upward to meet him head on.

He let his guard falter and didn’t block the attack and was unfortunately again impaled upon the sword.

Except this time he let himself slide down its edge as it ripped through him, inflicting agony every inch of the way, turning up the burning ice that ran through him to a whole new degree he thought impossible. Gasping for his breath, he dangled in the air like a fish on a hook.

“Say good-bye,” the man said roughly. Smiling a predatory grin down at the blank eyes, all Araken could think was what a fool. In a fluid motion he brought the scimitar he still gripped and hacked it downward, severing the man’s arms from mid-forearm down. He let out a bellow of shock and pain as his limbs disconnected from his body, causing Araken to fall to the ground like a rag doll with a thump. Wasting no time Araken got up and took out the sword within his abdomen not stopping to register the heightened agony. The blank-eyed man, still in shock from his loss, was on his back bleeding profusely as Araken walked over to him, putting a foot upon his mid-chest.

“Good-Bye.”

Before he stuck him, though, he took a moment to look into his eyes and saw nothing in them. No emotion flicked behind the white; it was fascinating to see that in this instant that would be his last, he was nothing but content. Raising his lone twin above his head he stuck downward in the man’s throat with all the strength he could muster. Before he fell limp beneath Araken’s foot, blood gurgled between his lips, dripping down his chin to the growing pool around his body. Taking a small serrated blade from his boot, Araken crouched next to his victim much like a wolf to its kill. With a quick stab to start he sliced through flesh, sawed his ribcage, until finally the once beating organ was visible.

He held it in his palms as if it were the most precious and fragile jewel in existence. Araken felt his own heart quicken with anticipation as he brought the heart a mere breathe away from his lips. Baring his fangs fully he bit into it, drinking from its sweet metallic wine like a half-starved, half-crazed beast. Each drop exhilarated him to such heights he didn’t know if he would ever come down, or if he wanted to. It drove his senses into mad awareness of every detail, including the wine he tasted with a now fresh pallet, which allowed him to truly experience the man’s last moments, his excitement for a fight, then disappointment and shock.

All tasted delicious, but the one he savored the most was fear. The man had hidden it from Araken, but now it intoxicated him. Araken could feel nothing but greatness here in this drunken state of mind, which he was quickly falling from. It was as if his head and stomach were flipped and flopped as he came down to reality with a crash. Literally he crashed forward on a plane of white marble with the heart in hand falling into a sea of red. His last thought was how warm the blood felt against his cheek.

All that he saw was a vastness of black that held him within an iron grip. It was not cold, yet not warm; he had no feeling but emptiness, which ate away at him from his core out, and he knew soon he’d just be a hollow shell, dead. That's it, he was dead, the damned blood had weakened him to a point he didn’t care he was bleeding to death. Araken cursed himself for it, knowing that it was he who was now the fool. He felt himself slipping deeper into this blackness and wondered if this was all that death held for those who perished.

************

Rawstralin had been working for the High Lord since he’d first gotten Araken. He needed an Elemental’s knowledge and experience to take care of one. So now he was here in the medical wing of this damned place standing over a boy who probably wouldn't last 'til sunset. It’d been his responsibility to look out for him so that it wouldn’t come to this. He had healed and operated to his best efforts given the circumstances, but Araken now lay on one of the beds barely breathing and unnaturally pale. He’d made him as comfortable as possible by closing every curtain to block out the sun, and covered him with only a light blanket. The doctor and nurses that’d been here before him didn’t know the slightest things about Elemental demons, including how to operate on them. Just by looking at Araken’s features he knew that he was of what they called Dark Watered Blood. Obviously his ebony hair, then his deep blue eyes, and by the color of his skin he was nothing less than a pure blood Dark Water. Rawstralin himself was and that it was in Araken’s comfort in mind that he kept light our and kept Araken cool, and more importantly kept his blood heavy with water. All he could do for this young boy who'd been through so much here was make him comfortable in his last hours.

It shouldn’t be like this; back in his Homeland Araken would’ve been cherished, like every child should be. He put his hand over Araken’s smaller one and was taken aback at how cold he was, and then put his fingertips to his pulse. Rawstralin waited for his heart to beat, for his chest to rise, but it didn’t happen. He bent down and kissed Araken on his forehead as if tucking him in for an eternal sleep.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered as tears fell onto the boy's cheek.

***********

Araken felt like he was being crushed as the full weight of the blackness fell on him. He struggled and fought against it, knowing that once he stopped, he would be gone for good, which he would never again be under the moonlit sky, or fulfill his dream. He couldn’t let this overtake him, the pressure was too much to bear, but he didn’t want to die when he had his revenge against the High Lord to live for.

“Let go, Araken,” a voice cool and comforting spoke.

“No, I can’t die, not yet, not like this,” he cried out in a desperate plea.

“Ssssh…it’s all right, I won’t let you die. Trust me and let go,” it said to him soothingly.

Could he trust this voice, did he have a choice? “Okay.” He then stopped fighting against the dark and let himself be consumed.

As soon as it had taken him fully, he knew that he was lost. He cursed himself for being tricked by that voice into stopping fighting it. As soon as he was gone without question, it all began to fade and he found himself standing on a plane of endless night and fog. He looked here and there, confused at what was happening to him and where was he. In frustration he buckled to his knees, letting the fog envelop him. Shortly after he felt a hand was cupping his cheek softly. What he saw stunned him, and made him all the more confused at the whole situation. It was a man with long silver blond hair, with a height that dwarfed Araken, but his eyes were what caught his attention- the clear blue color of them that covered his sclera.

“Take my hand and follow me.” His voice was eloquent. Araken nodded and picked himself off the ground.

They walked side by side for what seemed like a life time, never a change in surroundings. Araken didn’t question the man not because he didn’t feel the need to, but because he didn’t know where to start. So he just let it be and let the man lead him to wherever they were going. After a long while he began to notice a change in the air. It was colder, fresher. A couple seconds later he saw the source of the fog. It was being emitted by a monstrous lake that spread across his vision. It was beautiful, to say the least; the waters rested upon a rocky shore with calm waves.

“Go now, Araken.” As the man spoke he released his hand and began to walk away.

“Wait,” Araken shouted before he disappeared into the thickening fog. “Who are you?”

“You already know who I am Araken, all you must do is remember,” he said with an undertone of sorrow. “I must go…just let the water take you.” Then he was gone and Araken wondered who he was and why he had helped him.

Slowly he made his way down to the shoreline picking his way carefully down the rocks. Once his bare feet entered the lake the water seemed to cling to him and draw him in further. Soon he was swimming in the ice cold water, deeper, being pulled by an unknown force. The water began to lick and wrap around him, bringing him beneath the surface. Araken closed his eyes and let it embrace him. This was probably the best he’d ever felt in his life. It was his nature to want, to need the water. When close to it like this, it was like being in an immeasurable bliss. He then lost all conscious thought to the feeling as he fell to the water's depths.

Gasping desperately for air and jumping nearly out of his bed, Araken woke.

“Settle down Araken,” a man said as he pressed his hands down on Araken's chest to get him to lie back down. He complied and let himself breathe easy and observe his surroundings. Two rows of beds against the bland room that was nothing but white and medical supplies, then the stench of Angel’s Spit and Seraphim Dust; it was no mystery that it was the infirmary. A chair placed at his bed was now occupied by the High Lord's’ retainer, known as Rawstralin. He never had much contact with any of the retainers besides feedings, matches, punishments, and them escorting him. Rawstralin, though, had never done any one of those things, yet here he was by his bed, now staring at him. Araken just rolled his eyes in annoyance and sat up.

“Where are the nurses and the doctor?” he asked, confused that they were the only ones in the room.

“I sent them away since they knew nothing about the care of an Elemental’s system,” Rawstralin said bluntly.

“Oh, so are you a doctor,” Araken spurted.

“Yes, of sorts. I am a lot of things, but technically I failed in saving your life. You should be dead. You lost at least half of your blood, then your regenerative healing system was shot because your opponent used a 75% Hells’ Frost sword-” Rawstralin rambled in a medical tone.

Araken cut him off by saying, “It was 80%.”

“-either way with your age and your zero tolerance there was only a limited amount of options. And you didn’t make it past sundown, but then when I was off to tell the boss about your death, you were breathing again.”

“Then I guess I was lucky this time. Thank you.”

“But I failed,” Rawstralin replied quietly.

“You must’ve done something right in stitching me.”

“I guess so. Anyway, you’re all better now. If you look, there is not a scratch or scar on you.” Araken then lifted the cover and saw that he didn’t have any bandage or stitches and for the first time noticed he wasn’t in any pain. “The High Lord said that when you woke up to take you back to your cell so you can be punished for your weakness. I could stall him for-”

Araken interrupted him sharply, “I appreciate the accommodations, and healing me, but I do not need your pity. So take me back to my cell.”

“Crack…crack…crack…” The sound of the whip as it tore flesh from his vertebrae with a sting that inflamed only his back at first, but now engulfed his whole body. Over and over he heard it and each time his hands gripped tight to the links ‘til his knuckles were white, ‘til he bit his lip so hard his fangs dug deep. Never did he scream out as the leather ran through raw wounds. Nor did he shed a tear as he was dropped from the chain like a piece of meat into a pool of his own blood. Araken, sticky and slick with blood and still numb in the legs, stood with his head high before the High Lord, who now towered over him, his wounded body with his cold eyes.

“You will be the perfect weapon in every way from politics to war tactics, brutal slaughter to stealth assassination. You will be the perfect weapon even if it kills you,” Haures snapped. Then with his whip back on his belt, he walked out of the room, hollering out before he left the dungeon with his retainers following, “Rawstralin, go take the damned animal to get cleaned up.”

Again beneath the light of the moon Araken filled the silence with his own thoughts of what his future held and his past that already tainted him. He was supposed to be a child in ignorant bliss, but the battle had made him bloodthirsty. To taste another’s fear in their final moments was the most alive he’d felt. It was the first demon he’d ever killed, yet he didn’t mourn for the loss of life. Nothing of guilt for the dreams he may have killed, only emptiness as his hands were stained with blood. What was wrong with him? If this is who he is now, how will he be later in life?

With four tears rolling down his cheek, he felt himself splitting. One part of him is wrath filled with hate, another part of him numb to these feelings, and the final part mourning the loss of one of the last shreds of his innocence as a demon child. Sobs of grief escaped his throat as he buried his face in between his legs with his ebony hair as a black curtain to hide himself from the world. Araken knows that this is what and who he will be for the rest of his life. He can live with that so long as he gets what all three parts of him starve for, revenge. For the loss of never having the chance to be an ignorant child and the death of his lord will be the only way he’ll find satisfaction in life. It may be years, lifetimes before he gets his vengeance, but that is his dream. He’ll make it come true by becoming the High Lord’s perfect weapon in every aspect possible.

Even if it takes his last breathe from his lips, or the final beat in his cold heart.