Cassandra dashed around another corner in the ruined remnants of Gormum’s fortress and headed down another corridor. Smooth, perfectly-cut, black stone rushed past her as she ran. Many more glowstones existed within the ruins than in the small pockets that were occasionally uncovered in the tunnels and they provided more than enough light to see by. Silver and gold flecks in the stone sparkled all around her in the endless labyrinth of huge, crumbling corridors.
I’m so close, if it wasn’t for this ridiculous maze I’d have already found the gallovine.
Cassandra could almost feel its dark power calling out to her though she knew that was only her imagination. Her desperate desire for power had been all she could focus on for the last few decades and being so close to such a powerful gallovine was maddening. She rounded another corner only to find it blocked by a mountain of rubble. A quick, upward glance revealed that the rubble had fallen from a shattered section of the ceiling.
“Urgh, not again,” she complained in frustration.
She doubled back and took a different path. Ever since Garen and that strange boy had found the way into the ruins two days earlier, Cassandra had spent every conceivable moment searching them for signs of the gallovine. She’d waited until the other slaves had all fallen asleep and then snuck down to the ruins to search them alone. Empty rooms rushed past her on either side, but she gave them only the slightest glance before moving on. There was only one room that she was interested in finding: the throne room.
“I have to find that gallovine,” she whispered to herself. “I need that power!”
She winced as she thought back to what had been done to her all those years ago. Her life had been lived in a state of constant fear. She'd known terror and misery that far exceeded anything that the human slaves had endured, and it had lasted for years.
None of those animals is ever going to touch me again. Never again.
Her eyes narrowed as her anger honed to lethal precision. There were half a dozen lives that she intended to take in exchange for what had been done to her. Her father was the worst among them and he easily topped the list, but she’d save him for last.
He’ll watch the others die around him and personally experience some terror of his own before he dies.
An image of her father and his cowardly minions flashed in her mind's eye. She smiled at the thought and her beautiful face took on an air of cruelty.
Once I have the fruit of the gallovine, they’re all going to die. I’ll make certain they all die horribly to the sound of their own screams.
She came to another dead-end. Throwing her hands up in frustration she decided to end her searching for the day. She knew the other slaves would be roused before too much longer and she needed to be back in the cell before then if she wanted to avoid unnecessary problems. Turning back the way she'd come, Cassandra started back through the maze in the direction of the tunnel.
This maze is insane, what was Gormum thinking when he built this place? I’m so sick of dead-ends and pointless rooms, I feel like I’m going crazy. Where is the damn throne room?
Having spent more than a year digging in the tunnels, she'd been relieved once the slaves had finally breached the walls of Gormum's fortress thinking that her wait was finally over. Two days of running through the crumbling corridors in a fruitless attempt to find the gallovine, however, was finally taking its toll on her. She'd been trying not to let her frustration get to her, but that was becoming increasingly difficult. It was torture to know that she was so close to her prize, and yet be completely unable to reach out and seize it.
A horrifying thought suddenly occurred to her.
What if after all of this time, I get to the throne room only to find that there isn’t a gallovine after all? What will I do then? I’ve been lucky to get by this far, but I don’t know if I’ll have enough time to find another gallovine. Even if I did find another, it would pale in comparison to one left by a demon prince like Gormum.
She stopped walking to consider the possibility, but quickly shook her head. She couldn’t afford to doubt herself or become lost in despair. After a brief pause, she continued on toward the tunnel and cells beyond.
Of course there’s a gallovine down here. Gormum was simply too powerful to not have created one in death. The demon prince Gormum, The Dark Star, would never fade so easily from this world; his power is intact, I know it. When I find that gallovine and gain his powers, I will take his place as The Dark Star.
As she rounded the final corner of the maze, the entrance came into view. It was little more than a broken gash in the wall, when compared to the massive scale of the rooms, doorways, and corridors of the ruins, themselves. Garen and the others had widened it somewhat, but it was nowhere near as much as the rest of the tunnel.
Without slowing, she headed straight towards the ragged opening. As she passed through it, she squinted against the intense light coming from all of the glowstones around her. In less than a heartbeat, she crossed through the glowstone pathway and emerged into the tunnel beyond.
Gormum: The Dark Star.
Her thoughts drifted back to the demon princes. She’d rarely thought about them lately, though they had long been an interest of hers. They were the most powerful of all the demons in The Nightlands and their abilities were, in some cases, legendary. Her lust for power had driven her to find out all that she could about them and their powers, but few truly knew anything about them.
All of the demon princes were spire demons, the highest caste of demon in The Nightlands, lording over both demi and bolos alike. All of them were insanely powerful, even for spire demons, and each had a particular penchant for cruelty. For thousands of years there had been seven of them, but with the death of Gormum that number had been reduced to six.
I’ve always wondered why no other demon has replaced Gormum. It must be more than just a matter of strength or else the next strongest spire demon would have come forward to take his place.
Over her entire life as a slave Cassandra had tried to learn about the remaining six but she knew little in the way of useful information. What she had learned, with extreme difficulty, was the name and title that each went by. There was Xenetaer: The Voice, Cymiael: The Elder, Aurastur: The Eternal, Amendaru: The Changeling, and Marighast Demonbane. The sixth demon prince was rumored to be named Baeliosen, but was more commonly known as Legion.
Aurastur was the most notorious demon in The Nightlands. He openly flaunted his seemingly limitless healing abilities and claimed that he could not die. That was nearly the extent of her knowledge after a lifetime of searching. The other princes were all shrouded in mystery, and she couldn’t begin to guess at what their powers truly were. She didn’t even know what powers Gormum had possessed despite his infamous status as The Dark Star, brightest light in The Nightlands. It was said that, together, the seven demon princes had caused more carnage and bloodshed than any other number of demons combined. Only a mysterious pact between them kept the princes from attacking one another and drowning The Nightlands in a war of unrivalled horror.
After I’ve dealt with Father and his servants, I might try to learn more about the demon princes. With Gormum’s power I should be at least as powerful as them. The Nightlands would be better off without those vile tyrants. Once all of them are gone-
She shook her head. She had to stop herself from letting her thoughts stray any further. Hope had no place in The Nightlands as she well knew. She needed to focus on the present. Only when she had the fruit of the gallovine in hand could she afford to indulge in such lofty fantasies.
Walking swiftly, she soon arrived at the cell where the other slaves were still sleeping. The demi outside the door looked at her warily for a moment. Cautiously, it moved aside and let her pass without question. She could almost feel its fear of her mingled with hatred and she smiled wryly.
It appears that they’re finally learning. It only took the deaths of several dozen demi, but they were bound to figure it out eventually. Now they know to fear
me on sight. As long as Babossa doesn’t come snooping around here himself, things will go a lot smoother now.
She entered the room and moved toward her usual resting place against the back wall. As she carefully stepped around and between the bodies of the sleeping slaves, she noticed a familiar face. He lay on his side with an arm under his head serving as a pillow. Curled up in a ball and pressed close to him, was the young boy that she’d seen following him around. A curious sensation ran through her at the thought of herself lying against him like that.
Garen.
She hadn’t spoken to him since their first conversation over a week earlier and had avoided him as best she could. She didn’t want to develop feeling for him and thought it best to avoid him altogether, but her thoughts betrayed her. Since their initial meeting, she found that she was almost always thinking about him.
'Caring is for the weak and mercy is for the conquered. A true demon has no need of such things.'
Her father's words echoed through her mind. Though she despised him with every ounce of her being, she couldn't deny that she agreed with his reasoning. As a demon, she knew that feelings were not a blessing but a curse.
I can't allow myself to be distracted, especially by something as insipid as human emotion. I shouldn't have allowed that first conversation; what was I thinking?
It wasn’t boredom, curiosity, or even loneliness that fueled her interest in Garen. As she stared down at him, she could feel the lies that she’d been telling herself finally begin to slip away. The truth, laid bare, was painful and difficult to accept: she desired him. When she looked at him she saw a glimmer of hope surrounded on all sides by sorrow, despair, and darkness. He had not abandoned his humanity like all the others and instead used it as a shield.
She remembered the way that he had approached her and the first words he’d spoken. He'd been genuinely concerned about her getting something to eat and even more concerned about her angering the demidemons.
He was concerned for me. It was almost as if he cared... for me. For me.
For nearly her entire life, she’d only known pain and humiliation. She'd been rejected because she was small and weak and her father and his servants had reminded her constantly. Beatings, pain, and tears had become part of her daily life before she had even reached the age of ten.
She forced herself to look away from Garen and retreated to her space against the wall. With her back to the cold stone, she slid to the ground and came to rest in a crouch. Even without a glowstone, she could still make out Garen’s form lying with his back to her.
What should I do? No one has ever cared for me before. It’s strange, but even though I know it will weaken me, I can’t help but like it. I like the way he steals glances at me while we’re working, but I know I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t have these feelings for... a human.