Author's Preface
It was the first time Evil had stepped into Ferox- the realm of Nox and the place of origin for demons.
The setting sun cast an ethereal glow over a forest soon to be engrossed in darkness. The animals made their way back to their homes before the predators would arise from their slumber to go on their nightly hunt. Branches snapped and leaves cracked under the pressure of boots. Small animals made way, hiding away from a predator they weren’t so familiar with, but terrified of.
Although people believed it to be a prison, it was far from frightening. The world had been created to mirror the Ferox and the Lux. The realm looked like the earth, but with a magic that floated in the air.
The forest was dark, with trees larger than those that existed in the world of people. The sky had a charming golden color that cast an ethereal glow over the colored leaves. The crowns of the trees wore cold colors- bluish, dark green, purple- and it smelled like wet earth after rain, with a strong scent of lavender carried by the light breeze in the air.
The sounds of the animals formed a surreal orchestra. Not only could the chirps of birds be heard, but also hyena-like laughter and distant wails that Evil could not associate with any species she had ever encountered.
Blue flowers glowed faintly, much like fireflies. All the plants seemed conscious of their presence, moving aside whenever they stepped too close.
An animal- similar to a reindeer that bore antlers twice as long and six legs instead of four- gazed with bright eyes from behind a tree. Evil turned away, weary of angering it.
“Are you sure nobody lives around here?”
“Who would live in the middle of the forest?” Lucian questioned, amused.
Evil shook away the image of her childhood home. “Freaks?” she responded.
“My feet hurt.” Fey stopped and took off her heels. The shoes were brand new, black and shiny with a stiletto heel, definitely not made for walks in the forest. She bent down and gingerly picked up her shoes, further complaining that the grass tickled the soles of her feet and that she stepped in something sticky.
Kian told her it was probably piss. She smacked him on the back of his head. He whined, but kept his mouth shut.
“We’re almost there,” Lucian announced. Five minutes later they stopped in a forest clearing; an open space with very few trees and a gentle stream passing by.
Evil crouched next to the river and put her hands in it. They had walked for a good forty minutes, and the cold felt amazing on her flushed skin. She cupped her hands and trapped a bit of water to wash her face and forearms. Fey jumped straight into it, water splashing left and right.
“Finally, I can wash that sticky thing off!”
Kian stood with his back against the trunk of a large tree, eager to make a shady remark but kept it to himself, not wanting to be the target of Fey’s anger again. Elias, as quiet as usual, stood by Kian’s side, looking bored out of his mind. He leaned and whispered something to Kian, making him laugh.
Evil couldn’t help but be curious. After all, since when was Elias so funny? Perhaps he always has been. Evil barely knew them. Her chest twinged with an urge to belong. For Elias to talk to her casually, to be Fey’s favourite person, to insult Kian even more than she was already insulting him. For Elias and Fey to laugh and join in.
Fey popped up in front of her, head tilted, looking intrigued. “ What are you thinking about?”
Evil blinked and shook her head. “Nothing.”
“Nothing…how can you think about nothing? Isn’t that impossible?” she stroked her chin dramatically as she sat next to Evil on a rock.
She was sitting higher than Evil, forcing her to look up. The sun wasn’t in sight anymore, just barely peeking through the thick branches of those ancient trees, yet it was hard to look at Fey. She emitted a light of her own. Sometimes it was hard to discern whether the light was real or a trick her mind played on her.
“Nothing is impossible if you try hard enough.”
“But like, nothingness doesn’t actually exist. By thinking nothing, you’re actually thinking of something, because nothing is something.”
Evil laughed. “This just got too philosophical for me.”
Fey responded with a chuckle. Her feet dangled in the water below. Her hands brushed her freshly dyed purple hair. The blonde roots peeked through, almost begging not to be covered again. But Evil knew Fey wouldn’t let them get away, and she loved how the colorful hair matched her honey-brown eyes, and how it framed her face so perfectly.
“What is it?” Fey asked, noticing how insistently Evil watched her.
She turned, slightly embarrassed. “You…have a bug in your hair,” she lied.
Fey screamed and ran her fingers through her hair yet again, frantically trying to get the imaginary bug off her locks. “Is it still there? Evil, take it off! Don’t just stand there!”
Evil went to her side and pretended to pick it up, throwing it away. Only then did Fey settle back on the rock, shaken, like she had fought a bear.
Lucian called their names, and they got up to approach him. Fey positioned herself next to the boys, but still close enough to Evil so that she could feel her presence behind her. Evil swallowed thickly, having remained the only one in the middle of the clearing with Lucian looking at her like a lamb to be slaughtered.
His eyes glinted with anticipation, and a small smirk took over his lips. Evil felt a shiver travel down her spine.
“Evilyn, tell me, do you know how our powers work?” Lucian questioned as he gingerly took a cig out of his pack and lit it. Evil followed the curving line of the smoke, trying to avoid looking at him while she thought of a good answer. Truthfully, she had no clue. Nobody explained it to her.
Lucian knew this fact, and that is why the silence only stretched out for about ten seconds. It was somewhat of a rhetorical question, but it seemed to amuse him how little she actually knew.
“Let me explain. There are loads of types of demons in this world, varying from monsters to mutants, shapeshifters, ghost-like demons, lizards, dragons, and the superior kind- ” Lucian poked his fingers between Evil’s eyebrows, humanoid demons .”
Evil nodded in understanding. That much she knew; she had done her homework. Demons weren’t a one-size-fits-all, but countless species and subspecies just like animals. Humanoid demons, as the name implies, resembled humans. At the start of time, their purpose was to escort souls to the afterlife. Their appearance served the purpose of looking familiar to humans, therefore not frightening them. In a way, they were the most harmless kind.
“As time passed, we needed to survive the war, and evolution came into play. We managed to tap into the power sources of other species of demons.”
“So, like stealing their power?”
“Sharing is a nicer word for it.”
“Think of it like a parasite- living off their hosts,” Elias added.
Evil wracked her brain trying to understand his point. “Still, isn’t it at the cost of the host’s health? Are we killing other demons by sucking their energy?”
“We were at first, but as time went on, we learned to tap into their collective energy, not individual.”
Evil felt at a loss. This felt like a physics class. “Like… a collective consciousness?”
“Somewhat, yes. It is the same concept, but regarding energy. Individuals from each species are all interconnected, forming a bundle of powerful fuel to which we have grown connected. This way, it minimizes the damage done to them and maximizes our potential.”
Meaning that, with how many demons each species had, each creature lived without noticing anything amiss. When a humanoid demon was born, their psyche and mind were linked to a species of demons from which they inherited their powers.
“Okay, I got it,” Evil said, eventually. While she struggled to comprehend this shady power system, the others paid no attention whatsoever, already having learnt the theoretical part. Evil felt a pang of shame and irritation at not having known this prior. Like a human not knowing how to walk and speak at fourteen years of age, a demon not knowing where their power came from and how to use it was worthy of pity.
Were the others thinking even less of her now?
"Why don't we let Fey demonstrate? Darling, please come here."
Fey came forward. Evil didn't know what powers each one had. Indeed, it hadn't been long since she met them, but she got a chill when she realized how easily they could have hurt her thanks to her lack of awareness. How easily they could have done what they wanted to her. Not only did they have the element of surprise because Evil had no idea what their abilities were, but Evil didn't know how to use her own powers either. She knew she couldn't be weak. Whenever she felt strong emotions, she felt a beacon of power inside her. Something magnetic, something that burned her and screamed to be set free. Evil didn't know how to set it free, so it did it on its own in powerful, painful outbursts.
Her surprise was great when Fey actually started emitting light. She rubbed her eyes, wanting to be sure that it wasn't her imagination playing tricks on her again. But this was not like the light before - a metaphorical light; it was a strong light that each pore of hers emanated. She looked…unreal. Like a deity.
Evil stretched out her hand, wanting to touch the intoxicating rays, to get under the Fey's skin and crawl into her ribcage. Lucian grabbed her forearm with force, pulling her back a step. His gaze was still fixed on Fey with a proud smile.
“Fey’s power comes from the Indomitus. Does that name ring a bell?”
“It’s vaguely familiar.”
“The Indomitus are a rare species to be connected to. They’re very peculiar, and rarely interact with other demons. They have tall, slender bodies constantly emitting light.”
Ah, that checks out.
“As a matter of fact,” he continued, “it’s hard to make up any feature or even the shape of their bodies. Despite that, their presence is enchanting, alluring. It calls you to your doom.”
Ah, that checks out.
“What are their abilities?”
“Glad you asked,” Lucian said. “First and foremost, they’re especially fast and agile.”
To demonstrate, Fey did a few leaps around them. She spun in the air effortlessly, like a butterfly. Her body seemed devoid of bones, putting on a show like no gymnast ever could. She jumped high in the air, and when Evil came close to believing she could fly, she fell gracefully and caught a thicker branch, pulling herself up and sitting on it.
Evil was speechless. She locked eyes with Fey, who returned a smile and winked at her. She motioned for Evil to wait, having prepared much more than a few simple tricks.
“They have an enchanting voice. They’re often called the sirens of the demon world.”
Fey did have a gorgeous voice; she wasn’t going to argue with that.
“How about a demonstration, dear?”
Fey opened her mouth, and Evil didn’t hear singing. No, she felt transported to another dimension, carried away on a bed of flowers. Honey filled her ears, and her arms and legs quickly turned into lead. She tried to shake away that feeling; she tried to snap out of it, yet every moment of consciousness was overtaken by a suffocating urge to run to Fey and bathe in that sweet melody.
“You get used to it after a couple of times, but the first time hits the hardest. Just like any addicting substance,” Lucian said, taking a long drag from his cigarette.
His voice snapped Evil back to reality, and only then did she notice Fey had stopped singing. She didn’t know how long ago, but the silence left an emptiness in her. “What was that?”
“Siren’s song,” Fey answered this time. “Very handy, quite draining on my part.” Her voice sounded raspy.
Evil couldn’t help but be amazed at how much the abilities suited Fey’s persona. And it was such a silly thing to realise, but it posed another question in her mind- did your powers shape you, or are they picked to fit your character? And if so, are Evil’s powers to blame for what she is? Or is she the reason for her own suffering?
Evil’s powers were complicated. Notorious for being unstable and consuming. Not at all like Fey’s, not elegant and enchanting, tempting, delicate, calling you towards your inevitable end in a sweet voice. There wasn’t one thing about Evil’s powers that was beautiful. Was it because she wasn’t beautiful? Because her soul was so rotten, it couldn’t have possibly created anything that wasn’t painful?
Evil never knew who to blame. The most obvious choice would be her mother for having given birth to her instead of letting her continue to float around in nothingness- blissful. She didn’t even know the woman. Her mom, the only woman she would consider her mother, had told her and Emma they were adopted from a very young age. No shock came with it, and no hard feelings whatsoever. The girls loved Ophelia dearly and couldn’t care less that she wasn’t the one to have birthed either of them.
As the years passed, the girls started asking questions. Did Ophelia know their mother or father? How did she end up adopting them? Did she know what the girls were when she adopted them?
Ophelia took her time to answer each one. Yes, Ophelia knew their parents. Rimon was a dear friend of hers, and for whatever reason that had to do with their safety, she had to leave the girls in Ophelia’s care. Naturally, Ophelia knew about Evil and Emma’s true nature, and tried her best to explain it to them when they were old enough. Evil would often ask why their parents never came to visit, to which Ophelia always gave half-assed answers. They were busy, they were hiding, it wasn’t safe. Each time she uttered those words, Ophelia’s gaze became more and more uncertain, until Evil stopped asking, gathering that she must’ve likely lost contact with them at some point.
That they, in short, abandoned them.
And Evil has always hated them for it. Hated her goody-shoes father for calling himself an angel and abandoning his children, even if they were a mistake. Hated her mother for choosing to be selfish and keeping the girls, even if it meant them living miserable lives, and then abandoning them nonetheless. Hated her for leaving Evil all by herself, to deal with the demonic powers that killed her every day, bit by bit.
Hated them so much.
But they weren’t even around for Evil to project her anger on them.
So she chose to hate herself instead.
“It’s simply a kind of hypnosis, using enchanted soundwaves,” Fey explained. “Easy peasy.”
Giving Fey hypnosis is much like giving a gun to a sniper, or a scalpel to a surgeon. Her skin prickled at the thought of angering this girl and becoming her helpless puppet.
“What else you got?”
With only a slight smirk as a warning, Fey let out a wrenched banshee cry. Evil’s eyes widened in shock, her hands flying to cover her ears. Her features distorted thanks to the slicing sound, which felt much like cutting her skin with a blade, or detonating a bomb right under her skin.
Seeing her reaction, Fey smiled apologetically, and the scream lowered a few octaves to make it bearable for the crowd. She raised an elegant hand adorned with gold bracelets and shaped the sound coming out of her throat. It danced around her fingers, distorting in real time the way she commanded it. Starting high, it plunged low and quickly climbed back up in a high whistle. She flicked her hand towards a lower branch and, as if cut by a sword, it was cleaninly sliced from the trunk.
“What the fuck was that?” Asked Evil, uncovering her ringing ears.
“Sound attack,” Fey beamed, a brilliant smile on her face. “My main type of attack –it has lots of uses. And the scream at the start was a sample of a move I’m working on.”
“Which is?”
“Death’s wail,” Lucian answered for her. “ A scream of high amplitude to generate mass destruction.”
Fey really was… unreal.
Lucian motioned for Kian to take Fey’s place on the stage. Fey stuck her tongue out at him and scrambled down from the tree with the tenacity of a squirrel. Kian wrinkled his nose.
“What are you waiting for? Present your species,” Lucian urged him.
Kian clenched his fist in irritation. “Bellator.”
Warrior.
“I’ve read about them,” Evil said, relieved to recognize at least one species—even if it was Kian’s. “They’re the soldiers of Ferox. Big, ugly things.”
“They aren’t ugly,” Kian countered.
“If you think they’re beautiful... I don’t know what kind of taste you have.”
Kian tightened his fist further. The veins on the back of his hand stood out like the rugged shape of the mountain behind them. Lucian silenced them.
“You’re right, Evil. They are massive and stronger than any human or earthly animal, with skin that looks like rock.
They glow a deep orange from within, fueled by lava that smolders like an unquenchable rage. They turn everything they touch to ashes.
“So, you have fire powers?” Evil asked Kian, suddenly curious.
Kian chose not to answer. Instead, he raised his ringless hand, and right before Evil’s eyes, it burst into flames. Orange sparks danced in his palm. Lucian smiled with something that looked like pride—though not entirely.
Kian toyed with the flame in his hand, making it rise and fall along his forearm. The fire grew larger. It writhed as if desperate to be set free, to destroy. Kian wouldn't allow it. Instead, he molded it into various shapes—a circle, a triangle, a bird. He let the bird self-destruct in an explosion of sparks, the heat of which reached all the way to Evil.
“Kian is working on different moves. Fire isn’t incredibly versatile—unlike Fey’s power—but it is incredibly destructive.”
Kian moved like the embodiment of a flame. He was fluid, yet slow and steady, his feet firmly planted on the ground. He intensified his movements with every passing second. His energy was carefully modulated, flickering constantly between smooth glides, sharp jerks, and powerful bursts. Orange flames danced around him like a dragon.
He extended his limbs, seemingly trying to touch the orange sky. Rings of fire emanated from his fingertips, pulsing in the air like red waves that grew ever larger before fading away and drifting off on the wind.
Evil could not tear her eyes away. She remained rooted to the spot even after the demonstration dance had ended. She thought fire was anything but limited.
“Bellators are extremely powerful as well.”
Evil thought of the books she had read about the Ferox soldiers and how they ruthlessly crushed other lives. Their mouths were filled with sharp teeth that they never actually used, preferring instead to feel bones shatter beneath their powerful palms. Their bodies were made of tendons as rugged as stone, and a black mist trailed them like a shroud of mourning for anyone unlucky enough to see them.
Kian moved to the boulder where Evil and Fey had sat earlier and drove his fist into it with such intensity that Evil flinched. The stone shattered into thousands of pebbles, sending up a cloud of choking dust. Fey coughed loudly. Elias picked a small pebble out of his braids.
“Was that necessary?!” Fey shouted between coughs.
“You could have dodged.”
“Fuck off!”
“Language,” Lucian warned them. Fey went behind Evil’s back and put her head on her shoulder, pretending to sulk.
“Pray you shall never come face to face with a Bellator,” Elias told Evil. “They only leave destruction behind.”
Elias stepped forth without having to be called.
"Elias's power is special," Lucian said. "It's not meant for combat"
Evil could see it in his build- or the lack thereof. He was much skinnier than Kian, although a head taller. Even Fey, who was the smallest of the bunch, had a noticeably athletic physique.
His arms were weak, and his hands were delicate, untouched by the rigors of battle. He lacked the animalistic look that the other two had.
"Elias is a Hariolus."
"Isn't that...an oracle?" Evil asked, bewildered. Hariolus were few and worked for Nox as her personal prophets. They helped her predict important events - natural disasters, wars between people. They were few because Nox never need more than two, but over time they formed a pure-blooded clan that retained the power of prediction. They didn't draw their power from the species- they were the descendants of the original oracles.
"You're inbred?!" Evil asked, forgetting her manners.
"Yes," Elias answered simply.
Fey burst into laughter, and Evil suddenly realized the bluntness of her question. She covered her flushed face with her hair.
"Sorry..."
Elias shrugged. "It's the nature of our kind."
"You're not humanoid like us," Evil said.
"So what can you do?"
"Predict the future, naturally."
"But he can't show you. His power is not meant to be used as a toy. They must be preserved."
Evil felt bummed, but understood the sentiment. The powers of oracles couldn’t be used for show.
“You’re the only one left,” Lucian announced, motioning for her to step forward beside him. Evil felt a wave of heat wash over her body.
“But I don’t…” she began, subtly wiping the sweat from her brow. “I don’t know what I am.”
“I don’t expect you to. I have a vague suspicion, but we have a way to confirm it. Come on, be brave.”
Evil gritted her teeth and stepped up beside him, unwilling to appear any weaker in her teammates' eyes.
“Every demon is born belonging to a specific species. You’re no different.”
Lucian placed his hand on her head reassuringly. Evil hoped he couldn't feel her trembling.
The man pulled a small, surgical-looking knife from his jacket pocket. Evil started to step back, but Lucian held her in place.
“Don’t be afraid. It’ll hurt a little, but it’ll be worth it in the end. Everything happens for a reason. Don’t you want to escape the torment you suffer day and night? To be like them?”
More than anything , Evil wanted to say. Her hands were trembling with a mix of anxiety and anticipation. Feeling her voice was too unsteady, she only nodded.
Fey hurried to her side and took her hand in hers. She wore a reassuring smile—charming nonetheless. “I’m here. Squeeze my hand as hard as you want.”
Evil closed her eyes. The ensuing seconds of waiting felt like an eternity. She didn’t know what was coming, or which part of her body would be seized by pain, and she hadn't dared to ask. Her palm was damp and burning hot against Fey’s frail yet firm hand. Her finger moved soothingly across the back of Evil’s hand.
She could hear the birds singing songs that turned sinister in her mind—distorted, drawn-out, and raspy, as if their throats had been slit. The wind had suddenly turned cold, bringing with it the rustle of leaves and a faint scent of burning wood.
Lucian cupped her face with one hand while wielding the knife with the other. The tip of the blade touched her forehead and cut deep enough to make Evil whimper and feel the warmth of blood trickling down her eyelids. The blade traced a precise pattern on her skin. Evil couldn't make out the shape; she could only feel the searing contact of the sharp metal and the warmth of Fey’s body.
It hurts, she wanted to say.
Lucian’s face was a mask of pure concentration. His movements were precise, yet agonizingly slow. Evil felt her legs going weak. She clung to Fey’s arm with every ounce of strength left in her trembling hand.
"Just a little longer," Lucian encouraged her as he carved the final details. "The pupil is the most painful part."
After those agonizing moments, Evil saw the daylight again. Lucian was smiling at her.
“The hardest part is over.”
An eye was drawn on her forehead, with a crescent moon—curved like a pair of horns—visible behind it—Nox’s symbol.
Evil’s T-shirt was stained by the rivulets of blood trickling down from her face.
Lucian took her hands and knelt before her. Even from that angle, he remained imposing.
Words Evil didn’t fully understand began to hiss from between her lips—the ancient tongue. It sounded lyrical, ancient, and powerful. Each word was charged with electricity and vibrated with the gods' primordial power.
Evil’s feet began to lift off the ground. Her body wiggled in search of something to hold onto. She floated a meter above the earth—above her companions—in harmony with the singing birds.
The wind picked up, seeming to grow agitated. A carpet of multicolored leaves swirled into the air, forming a graceful circle around Evil. Everyone watched her with interest.
Every trace of animal life, every sound, fell silent. The forest held its breath.
The burning sensation on her forehead intensified, becoming almost unbearable. Evil groaned and whimpered, biting her lip to keep from screaming. The lines etched into her skin rearranged themselves, forming a new symbol that Evil could not yet see.
Lucian narrowed his eyes. Fey covered her mouth in surprise. The boys stared too, in varying degrees of astonishment. Elias, though the most composed of them, had his mouth set in a thoughtful frown.
“The Trickster,” Lucian whispered.
Evil suddenly plummeted with the force of a meteorite. Lucian caught her in his arms and laid her down on the damp grass. It took a few moments before she could feel air flowing through her lungs again.
On her forehead—now slowly healing—the lines formed the image of a jester. It was a clown with a large, tasseled hat and garish makeup, grinning ear-to-ear while holding a mask carved with a frown.
“The Trickster?” Evil asked.
“The master of deceit.”