Split of the Worlds (18+)

Chapter 1.2

The demonlord felt a slight concern. He had made himself clear, but his servants were raw. They wouldn't knowingly defy his command, they couldn't, but they were no better than human children with a little bird.

Well, the comparison was a bit wrong. His "children" had teeth and claws that would have made any tiger jealous. And the angel was about as defenseless as an oversized hawk.

Nevertheless. Perhaps she was already dead. N'Arahn noticed that he was halfway up. He laughed to himself. There was something else in those bones besides paralyzing boredom. The thought that the welcome distraction, his new toy, might go away so quickly, ah, that actually bothered him. To be on the safe side, he should have supervised everything himself. That could not be changed now. At least he could make his servants feel his impatience.

The demonlord expanded his presence, seeped through the wide stone walls, flowed through the corridors. His creatures ducked under his displeasure as he reached out, searching for his captain, whom he had assigned the task. He found it, forced himself into his thoughts. Unexpected pain and total submission received him.

"Darr!" He pressed the captain's name violently into his head, using that one word to make the consequences of further delays clear.

"Master, she will be ready immediately," Darr replied resignedly. The demonlord withdrew again, wasting no more energy on his servant.

Only a few moments later he felt her in the hallway. His creatures and that bright, peculiarly inappropriate energy. For a moment he thought about whether the angel warrior could feel him too, but the thought was wiped away when the door opened.

The angel was pushed into the room, a noose tied tightly around her neck, led by a long staff. Her hair seemed to form a swirl of light around her face. Her strands fell open, but wildly disheveled, just below her shoulders. Her eyes shot out amber lightning, almost blazing. The angels face was frozen in a hard mask, promising battle. But N'Arahn admired her symmetrical features, the pronounced cheekbones, the small chin, the almost angular jaw. Her teeth clenched tightly, her lips pressed into a line. What would they look like, in other circumstances?

The dress she wore was as white as could be found on the edge of the Red Depths with all that black, brown and red dust. It was ankle-length, with a round neckline, and left the arms free. Plain. Although, it was no longer completely white. The demonlord saw red spots on the fabric and smelled blood. The warrior's wrists were again or still tied and she went barefoot.

Behind her, Darr pushed forward, shoving her by the staff. The smell of blood increased and N'Arahn realized the reason for the pain he had found in the mind of his captain: Darr was missing at least one finger from his left hand and a deep gash ran from his nose down his right cheek. The angel had been defeated, but these beasts were terribly tough. Well, that would teach his captain to be careful.

"Release her and close the door behind you."

"Lord?" There was some disbelief in Darr's creaky voice. N'Arahn growled deeply and just looked at his captain. He immediately lowered his eyes and released the mechanism of the noose.

N'Arahn leaned back in his chair and let shadow power flow out of him, filling the room with it. The angel hissed. The shimmer that surrounded the warrior was muted. The temperature seemed to be rising, but the lanterns set into the walls continued to glow.

Darr had now completely loosened the noose and backed away to the door. With a nod from his master, he disappeared and closed the double doors to the room from the outside. The sides of the door locked with an audible rattle.

"Sit down, angel. Then I'll untie these ropes too." Her nostrils quivered as if trying to sense a lie. He wasn't lying, he had no reason. "Come on. I promised you food and I assume that you'd rather take it by yourself."

He winked at her and tried a smile. He wanted to learn. So why not start by brushing up on polite manners. Politeness was exhausting and mostly inappropriate in hell. But it could also be a weapon. A fine knife, dazzling and hidden dangerous. Not exactly his preferred choice, but he had nothing to lose.

A steep crease had formed on the angel's forehead, but she actually strode to the vacant chair. With hunched shoulders and suspiciously watching N'Arahn's movements.

She sat down and the demonlord took a deep breath of her scent. Under the intrusive smell of blood, which was not just hers, he smelled very fine mint and honey. Unusual, but surprisingly pleasant.

She looked at him again with her flashing eyes and held out her hands to him without a word, but clearly demanding. Where was the fear that he had felt in her earlier? Angels were really amazing. And apparently pretty freezing. The demonlord was impressed by the way this warrior handled the situation, which was no less unfamiliar to her. Either she really was as intrepid as she seemed, or she just didn't understand the danger she was in. Or maybe it was a mixture of both. On the other hand, how did he know if angels weren't just a little bit insane in principle? Well, now he had time to find out. He examined her carefully. Her skin was a light bronze shade, but in many places there were hairline white streaks across her arms. Scars from past battles.

"Patience. Tell me one thing beforehand: What's your name?" He really wanted to hear her speak. A voice could reveal so much and hide just as much. She clearly didn't like the question, but a little more discomfort was good. N'Arahn leaned forward a little and increased the pressure of the darkness.

She pulled her lips back, showing her teeth, and almost growled.

"Veidja."

Immediately her lips pressed together again, as if she could be tempted to continue speaking otherwise. He loosened his grip on her shimmer a little, saw the very slight relaxation around her eyes which followed. Her voice was rough, deeper than he had expected. Was it just the tension and the hardships behind her? He would find out. A few times N'Arahn rolled the angel's name silently over his tongue, trying to taste it. It didn't echo, it was just a name. Somehow reassuring. An Old Soul that had already found its destiny could hardly have fallen into the hands of him and his servants.

He was torn from his contemplation when the angel raised his tied hands again invitingly. The demonlord almost let himself be carried away to laugh. He liked that fearlessness. In the last few moments he was already having more fun than in the last long cycle.