***
This creature was beautiful… and as terrifying as can be. I remembered Cuthbert's fading eyes and his soft whisper as he died in my lap: "Beware of her, she is… she is so beautiful…" At the time, I had taken it for a sign of fever and delirium, but now… I summoned all my will to tear my gaze away from her dark eyes, from the red of her lips, parted invitingly so that two tiny fangs were visible. She seemed so small amid the blackness of her outstretched wings, a girl's, not a woman's, a body trapped by a cruel demon. I had to bite my lip to hold the sword and not throw myself into her arms. Only the salty taste of blood reminded me that she was that demon. It was because of her that Cuthbert and Elian died. Tormie, why do you allow evil to be so wonderful…
You don't. That's why I'm here. I tightened my grip on the hilt and took a step forward. The creature retreated, and for a split second I hoped it would flee. Only then did I see the glint of unsheathed claws. Learned instincts kicked in: I leaped to my feet and, in three smooth, practiced steps, delivered a practiced blow. It hit the air, and the momentum almost threw me to the cobblestones. At the last moment, I shielded my face from the claws with my hand. They only scraped against the polished steel of my elbow guard, and the demon gave a mournful screech, as if in regret at what she was doing. But I was already immune to her charm. With a jerk of my arm, I brought my blade up and plunged it into the wraith's right wing. She didn't even groan as the sword tore through its entire length. She simply planted her feet on the steps and turned, slashing blindly. I parried the blow, suddenly realizing that a prayer was still flowing from my lips. Well, you never forget that… She smiled. I couldn't believe it: she simply smiled and grabbed my wrist. Her other hand flew to my neck. I covered it, but then the blow suddenly changed direction. It struck my temple, and all I remember was that smile and the dull thud against the floor. I slid down the stairs, the demon's voice whispering in my head: Sweet dreams, mortal. Sweet dreams... I lost consciousness.
Pain woke me. It seemed to radiate from my entire body. Every tiny nerve screamed and burned so hard I could only writhe in convulsions. A moan escaped my clenched lips, so desperate it sullied the holy name of Torm. And then the suffering stopped. Breathing heavily, I collapsed onto the blanket, silently whispering a prayer. I lay on a primitive cot, not in a cave with stairs and a crystal, but in something resembling a cell, its walls adorned with stone carvings of a thousand objects. My armor and sword stood in the corner; someone seemed to have even cleaned them, but I couldn't see any clothes. I rose, suddenly finding myself face to face with the creature. The night of its eyes stared at me. Her sweat-matted hair was tossed back, and her lips were drawn into a thin slit. Instinctively, I stepped back, feeling my chest for the holy symbol. But he wasn't there. Out of the corner of my eye, I glanced at the sword. It stood near the door. Far too far.
The creature shot me a contemptuous glance. No, not a creature: she – I realized. So beautiful, so sweet, so human… She! For her, her wings were a sufficient cloak to conceal her charms, but I was completely naked. I hastily threw the blanket over my hips, silently thanking her for turning to approach the door. It opened for her, to which she responded with a slight nod.
"Come," she said. Her voice was deep and clear; if I hadn't seen her, I would have fallen in love with it, but I did. I fought with myself, trying to push the thoughts away. There stood my sword, I could, I could… All I could do was wrap the blanket around me as tightly as possible and follow her. She knew full well I wouldn't harm a defenseless creature. Well, maybe not entirely defenseless, considering her fangs and claws. And yet… She didn't kill me, so I left my weapon behind. Taking it would have been like declaring war, and besides, it would have been foolish to hold up a blanket and the steel of that blade. We walked through a narrow corridor carved into the solid rock. I saw no sign of a torch, yet my eyes behaved as if I weren't walking in complete darkness. Perhaps it was the presence of this… her that gave this place light. What am I saying? Driven to who knows where by a demon woman, I'm raving like a haunted bard in a drunken stupor. One moment wanting to throw myself at her feet, the next at her throat. Tormie, protect me. That's probably how Elian died.
For a moment, I thought about turning back: running, grabbing my sword, and somehow getting out… But the path had forked so many times! I'd lost my bearings, staring at her back. I cursed my stupidity. I might have been torn between honor and hatred, I might have been under the influence of her diabolical charm, but damn it, I should have memorized the path. It was practically a textbook mistake! I shook my head, almost missing the reason for all this. I hadn't noticed when we'd entered a larger cavern. My lady… I couldn't think of a better word for it at the moment, forgive me, Tormie… had stopped at the edge of a rock. Nearly three-quarters of the cave was filled with an underground lake. She leaned down, whispering something into the black depths. I took a precautionary step back, just in time, as she turned to me, her lips level with mine.
"Come in," she said, pointing to the pool.
"What?!" I croaked, trying clumsily to conceal my half-fear and confusion.
"Come in," she repeated, sighing slightly. She unzipped her wings, stretched, and jumped into the water, disappearing deep much faster than I could recover from the sight of her body. I gasped, trying to gather my thoughts and stop shaking. I told myself it was because I hadn't seen many naked women. I told myself I wouldn't react like that to the sight of a demoness next time. I remembered the blood of my friends, her claws crunching on my armor, yet I felt a twinge of unease when she didn't resurface for more than three minutes. Finally, she emerged, gasping for air, and I nearly melted at the sight of her face. "Good, now at least I know you have to breathe too," I noted. Meanwhile, she calmed her breathing.
"As you can see, there are no monsters here, nor anything that could hurt you. Now come in and wash off that sweat; the smell of humans is so intense it makes me nauseous."
I blushed like a young lady; I was used to my own scent, ashamed to admit my body hadn't seen water in almost two weeks. But I didn't think it was appropriate... Knights don't bathe with demons. Beautiful, naked demons. She reached out and tugged at the blanket, dispelling my doubts. I lost my balance and the evidence fell as hard as a log. It was icy, and at first, it took my breath away. Meanwhile, the blanket was deftly yanked from me, and a small hand guided me to the shore. As I opened my mouth, gasping for air, it drifted away, and I floated in the water, letting the cool currents wash over me and bring peace to my mind. For the first time since I drew my sword, promising to avenge Cuthbert, I managed to force my thoughts to a rational path. Perhaps because for those long minutes, I hadn't once glanced at the demon girl washing the blanket on the opposite bank, and when I finally did, peace reigned in my soul.
"Who are you?" My voice was composed and confident, my eyes devoid of emotion.
She set aside the blanket and looked at me seriously, and the night in her eyes trembled.
"You're finally asking me that question. Finally: not when you saw me. No, you drew your sword then; if you had killed me, there would have been no need to ask, right?"
For a long moment, I couldn't muster anything but clenching and unclenching my fists. Her words stirred confusion in my head and heart.
"You killed my comrades," I finally replied, feeling as if I were fending off a truly heavy sword.
"Yes. I did," she stated simply, and swam close. So that I could feel her breath, her body heat, her despair... "But does that give you the right to kill me? Without trial, without questions, you would simply draw your sword and kill..."
I hesitated. She was right, I would. With a song on my lips and a holy blade in my hand. After all, I was doing the right thing... after all..."
"You're a demon!" I almost screamed, pulling away desperately, flailing the water with my arms. It seemed to me that the black depths and their cursed game were pulling me into the abyss. Tromie… if only I were certain it was all a trick… but as I looked at her, I couldn't be sure of anything. "
I am the prisoner and guardian of this place, a slave to the crystal, as your companion called me. If I am a demon, then you are one too."
The statement struck me, more than a knife could. I felt my hand slip limply across the slippery surface of the rock. I was sinking into darkness and cold, but I didn't feel it. Even as the water poured into my mouth, it felt as if from afar. Was there a shadow of truth in her words? Or… had I lost myself? I had shed much blood, but did the fact that I killed bandits and foul creatures make me a murderer? She called me a monster… a demon… I gasped uncomfortably, losing my breath. The water closed in above me. For a moment, I thought my foot had touched bottom, but it was only her wing. She encased me in them, wrapped her arms around me, and tilted me. Choking, I spat on her cheek and instinctively moved closer to wash it. I stifled a groan, feeling my physicality react to the touch of her skin. The touch of her arms was a lot, the touch of the rest… She looked into my eyes. All thoughts vanished. The darkness within her terrified me and simultaneously pulled at me. Part of me desperately wanted to believe she was innocent, that she could at least be good, to fight the vile nature within her. Another part longed for death. Of hers, or my own, I was no longer sure. The third made me realize something that should have been clear from the start. The fourth, I sternly ordered, remained silent.
"Why did you do that?" "I asked, removing my hand from her cheek. "Why do you keep me alive? You killed my companions... do you want to make me a slave? Or perhaps a sacrifice to some strange god you serve... Why these games? Why all this glamour?"
She pulled away so abruptly that I almost dove under the surface again. At the last second, I grabbed her wing and held on. The way she floated so confidently and effortlessly in the water was beginning to intrigue me.
"If I wanted to, you'd have been ready to jump off the cliff long ago," she growled. "There's something about you... If I told you, wouldn't you use it against me?
" "I don't know," I replied honestly.
"Then I won't answer. Enough of this bath. We're leaving."
And I trudged after her, trying not to look at what the wings hid, down the narrow corridor that took my breath away.
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