Darkness Ignite

Chapter 4

Night Slayer & Prisoner

The Night Slayer sat on the stolen throne with a mastered look of contempt on his sleek features.

He listened as the man went on about having to deal with the kingdoms that were allying against him. The Night Slayer couldn't care less, for he had more in store for the other leaders who believed they could destroy him. They were years too late, though. Their reign was about to end while his was still to continue.

He's had years to prepare for this moment, where the world would become anew.

He gave a wicked grin at the thought. It was paused when a servant came into the room, shaking with fear.

"What is it?" the demon's second ordered. The old man's face was weathered down from years of stress and nobility privilege. Still, it frowned upon the servant's presence.

The servant bowed with sloppy grace as she shook with unkept fear. "Your Elite wanted me to inform His Grace of the prisoner held in the chamber."

"Well, go on." This time the Demon spoke, letting his sharp canines give way as he stared her down.

Still bent over in her bow, he saw the way her fingers curled to hide their trembling. "He is agitated, Your Grace," she said, eyes cast down. "The prisoner can hardly be contained. The Elite asks for your presence."

The Second bristled at the thought of anyone giving orders to His Grace. "You can tell him that he may--"

"I will go, as long as he comes to escort me," the Demon said. He understood the hate the Elite had for him. He also recognized that the Elite would do anything to keep his distance. Nothing brought more satisfaction to the Night Slayer than subtle mind games.

"At once, Your Grace," the servant managed.

"I believe that was an order." The Second watched as the lowly servant stumbled over her own two feet, to escape the presence of the king who sat only a few feet from her.

It wasn't long before a hard-faced man clad in his uniform stepped into the room. An armor suited for a man with great force. At his hip, he wore the sword that was gifted to him by powers that even quelled the Night Slayer's own. The Demon eyed the object with a rising temper. But the look was no longer than a second.

The king stared his general down with nothing more than a glance before he gathered himself up with utter elegance.

The young general of the king's guard bowed at the waist until ordered otherwise. "Your Grace," he greeted, with just a note of hidden anger laced into the words. "You've summoned me."

That voice, the Demon Master thought, was like fire in the midst of its ashes: a burning that would soon yield to become nothing but dirt.

The demon watched with disinterest as the Elite stared past his head and toward the throne mere inches away from him. Something of disgust, anger took over the man's face. "Take me to the prisoner in the lower levels."

The order was simple, curt.

"As you command."

It wasn't long before they descended the stairs that lead to the chamber with the man who had the King's face.

~ ~ ~

The man in shackles had forgotten how long he'd been imprisoned by the Demon. The days and nights blurred together when he tried making sense of them. They brought him meals only when he was at death's door. They'd bring it to ensure he didn't die, so he would feel the torment he would later endure.