I freeze. The sound of walking before me. Behind me. And all around me.
"I told you. You wouldn't like it."
"Kian." The voice. It's hoarse. Yet whispery. An overlapping tone like two voices calling.
The chill creeps. And a peculiar mist wraps around my body; the wet touching of spongy fingers grabbing—
stroking—
inspecting—
I have no enmity with this…person. And yet—
"Get—get it away from me! Kian!" I'm pushing and shoving. It's pulling—hauling—wrapping—
And all the while, my heart's beating erratically.
The harsh sounds of breathing. And the frantic, almost crazed way I'm struggling—
But I don't take the blindfold off.
There's something wrong with it.
It would be entirely impossible to unsee whatever monstrosity Kian brought me to.
Disgusting. Disturbing. I feel it…molting. And hear the flesh wobbling behind me.
Shuddering, I hide behind Kian.
"Quite the shy young thing, isn't he?" That voice cackles softly. And I'm left reeling in a pit of my own making.
Why do I follow Kian so willingly?
There's an unfortunate smell I'm smelling from him. The rabid stench of sulfur. And Beast.
"They're going to save you, Ethan."
More like eat me! I can feel the ravenous desire. Can smell the saliva like rot on my tongue; its voracious appetite for the living.
But my shame from hiding isn't waning. It's not like it's doing anything. In fact, its waiting. Patiently.
Like my will truly means anything!
But I can't stay beneath Kian's protection forever.
I step away. And let it touch me.
But in that moment of tepid courtesy, Kian's power wraps generously around my neck—
And chokes me.
My nails dig into my own neck. This is it. He's trying to kill me! No—air! Can't breathe—! Help me—!
***
Kian quickly catches the fainted boy, carrying him gently into the immortal's shop to have the shopkeep examine him.
The herbs drying above are unknown and unknowable to Kian. Yes, even he doesn't know the meaning of that dark vein there…
But he ignores the bowls of sacrificial blood and strips of flesh, and lays the boy on the altar inside.
The misty chill creeps closer. And a wet inhale soon follows.
"His Aura tastes of you, My King. We find it to be a most exquisitely pained Human. We long for its delicious blood. And crave its delicate flesh."
The daemon leans over the camotose Ethan; taking in his aroma, then prodding and poking his skin as if it were bleeding.
The slurping of saliva. And the licking of lips."You know very well how tempting he is, Sire."
"You dare?"
"You—! You wish to retrieve what you've lost! You'll give him to us after! Such a pretty, young thing…We'll cherish its bones! Give it to us, yes?"
The two tones are now three; splitting into four—
"You'll do it. You'll give it to us." The rotting flesh jiggles. And the living dead presses its flubby lips together even as the flesh falls and dissipates.
"Give! Give! When its writhing in agony, we'll strip it of its Humanity! We'll drink its blood and eat its shell! Oh, the despair—! The devastation! Its moment of death will be our most delicious meal!"
The sounds of chittering. And the equally disgusting smell.
"We wish for the eyes—!"
"No! That's not for eating—"
"Why not? The eyes are the most tasty! The pop and squish—! And the visions we see. To be amongst the living—! And this human carries the Divine—"
The bickering between voices. Its disturbing. Even to Kian. A green flash. And the flesh of that dead being blisters and bursts—
"No! It burns! Stop! Stop, We say—!"
"If my Shadows hadn't found you, you would have never faced me, is that not right, Momo."
"You mistake us, My King! We had no idea you were in the Human Realm! Truly!"
The groveling. The sniveling. And the scent of rot burning.
A sigh. And a begringed finger tap—tap—taps against the countertop filled with unnamed jars; the dark liquid murky and unclear.
Even if they're bones, even if the blood is old and the bodies scattered, Kian will still consort with Momo.
Because Daemons are also Divine.
What matters is retrieving what he's lost. And nothing else.
"Ah, Sire. To be in Your presence! We are truly Honored!"
"What I've asked. Can you do it?"
The Daemon licks its cracked and split finger, pressing it against Ethan's forehead. And a dark light shines.
"The wing has already melded with this Human's Aura. His veins. Even his heart's blood! There is no separating it from him now."
"This is not what I wanted to hear, Momo." And a green light flares.
"No, wait! We're not done! If you but give us a chance! Sire—!"
"My patience is wearing thin, Daemon. Tell me something I don't know."
"If you but let us kill it, Sire—! We're certain there's a way!"
"If I kill him, my wing will disappear! Do you think me so foolish—?!"
The whiplash of Aura. The striking of flesh. And the screams of a million rising—!
"We—We didn't mean anything by it Sire—! Certainly! We—We're just so hungry—! Please, Sire! It's burning! We won't touch it again—! The agony—! It's burning—!"
The sizzle. And ultimately, the melting, molting flesh—
"This Human, it can be saved—! Sire—! Please!"
The burnt smell doesn't disappear. But indifferent, Kian reaches for that mass of quivering flesh, brushing aside the thin, ratty hair.
"I know well what you're thinking, Daemon. But beware. Do not toy with me. I will not be kind," Kian whispers.
"Truly, Sire! We will extract your wing. And save it. We swear!" Again and again, the thing's bowing.
The bowl of sacrifice spilled in the fray. Its thick liquid splattered against Ethan's face; his skin now wearing a dirty, bloody mask.
Kian gently, almost lovingly rubs away the wet. "Save him?" He smiles. But his eyes are cold. And empty. This affection…is it truly his own?
Or the magnetism of his own flesh buried within?
He fiddles with the bloody strands of hair. "You have a way."
"N-Not entirely, Sire. But we're certain! There is a way! If you but give us some time…!"
"How much time?"
"Well—"
"Wait! Just give us a minute to think—!"
"But the wing is too close to the—!"
"No! The heart is the most important! His soul cannot withstand the pressure! If only—!"
Kian stops tapping. And the air heats.
"Five years! At least five years, Your Majesty. No sooner! The complications are—"
"If you fail…"
"Of course, Sire! Of course!"
"Now. Heal him of that poison. I don't wish him to die so stupidly."
What a waste of his good intentions that would be…