Author's Preface
Aisling: Aye, So back in the day the primary way a devil would breach through the planes onto our realm was through the Aether lines. Modern tech has pretty much locked those down, but back before electricity and the internet? Everywhere. Bursting like pipes after Mama Royce cooks up a veggie loaf.
Merkra: snorts
Solana: So your people had a way to seal them?
Aisling: Yup! What would happen is a devil would find one of the lines and block it. The Aether would build up and eventually burst the vein open allowing it to pull itself through. So, we learned to look for the symptoms of a build up. Morphing flora, fauna acting out of the ordinary for the season, stuff like that. Then they would go in and break up the blockage.
Merkra: So it’s literally like plumbing? They were ancient magic plumbers?
Aisling: Aye, pretty much.
Solana: What about portals?
Aisling: Portals. *blech* Portals are nasty business. Problem with portals is they are man made. Usually with dragon heartstone. They are closeable, but it’s a real pain in the ass.
“Again!” Herim, the Deviltouched combat instructor, snapped as he smacked his training blade across the hamstring of the teen who soared past him after a while swing. The boy landed flat on his face in the sandpit, the tip of Herim’s wooden sword pressing hard into the spine between the kid’s shoulder blades.
The old man’s training sessions were normally relegated to young Deviltouched that had shown promise over a number of years with martial skills. Really, they were brought here to have their egos tempered. Atania recalled being brought to the man when she was fourteen and leaving the pit broken and bloody. Those training sessions would not draw the crowd that Atania found herself standing in, staring down into the pit.
There was no way that time had any meaning for Yasha at this point. In reality, she was just pushing eight months old. Here the girl was, dressed in combat leathers that resembled her own, lined up with a bunch of teens that should have been a decade and a half older than her, but she looked nearly as old as they were. Morbid curiousity seemed to be the reason all these grown people were here. Waiting to see if the rumors about the child prodigy were true.
Herim took another lazy step to his side and whapped another boy in the back of his head after he lunged past him again. “Enough, back to the group. Who is next?” The quiet murmur of spectators suddenly silence. Yasha had pushed her way through the group and picked up the training sword from the sand.
Atania’s attention diverted for a moment, the shift of the door behind her setting off alarms. Gregor stepped inside, carrying Penelope in his arms like a baby with Gerard close behind. Penelope leapt from his grasp and started walking before she hit the ground, eyes locked on Atania. She wouldn’t try anything here. Not with everyone around. That was no reason to relax.
“Impressive, isn’t she?” Penelope asked as she gestured to the pit where Yasha and the instructor now danced.
“For an infant, sure.” Atania’s tone came out flat and dismissive. “Bringing the healer doesn’t scream confidence in her abilities.”
Penelope let out a chirp of laughter and shook her head. “Oh, he’s not here for her.”
Yasha’s movement mimicked Herim’s right up until he went on the aggressive. The first strike was much like he’d offered the other kids. She wouldn’t describe it as slow, but certainly telegraphed enough that anyone that had ever held a blade before could parry it. Yasha did so easily, returning with a quick swing that tagged the instructor’s wrist. Herim’s sword fell to the sand.
A chorus of gasps spread through the crowd as he picked up the blade again. “Very good, continue.” He said and steadily picked up the pace. Soon the wood meeting with hard, splintering cracks and quick exhaling breaths of the combatants were the only sounds in the room. It wasn’t long before Yasha’s unorthodox mimicking style shifted into one that was faster and more aggressive than something the old man could muster a defense for. She advanced on Herim, landing several viscous strike to his legs and core that rivaled the speed that Atania could achieve.
Now on the back foot, Herim swung wildly with a spinning strike to the child’s head. She reacted to the move before the move even started. She ducked, performed a perfect dragon tail sweep that took the old man off his feet and swung the sword down hard. Atania expected the sound of wood cracking against a skull, but in the silence of the room all she her was…
“Boop.” And a gentle thump as she tapped the wooden blade to the man’s forehead.
A high-pitched squeal erupted from beside her. Penelope skipped forward, the crowd parting wide for her entrance as she front flipped into the pit and wrapped Yasha in a hug. Gerard hopped down to attend to Herim and make sure he was alright, but the remainer of the room stood in shocked disbelief. Herim was not the best swordsman amongst them, but he was very good. Watching this child dismantle him so thoroughly was exactly the spectacle everyone wanted to see. At least that’s what they thought until it happened.
Solana: So, to close a portal permanently, someone would need to be on the other side?
Aisling: Aye. It’s not a great situation, but if the portal is strong enough to sustain a devil’s power… you’re looking at sacrificing one person for…well, everybody else on the planet.
Merkra: That sucks. There’s no other way to do it?
Aisling: Not that I’ve heard.
Merkra: Are they going to have to close it? Have we gotten that far yet?
Solana: No, I don’t believe we’ve gotten to that point in our research.
Merkra: Aisling?
Aisling: Spoilers, mate. I’ll tell you this much, if the story I know matches the story you’re telling…Shit’s about to get real weird.
Atania couldn’t handle anymore music, or dancing, or the roar of conversation. She could feel the pull all day. She knew it was getting close to time, but it hadn’t been a fortnight yet. Her head throbbed as a particularly hard tug sent pain radiating through her spine. If she didn’t go see him, this was only going to escalate.
Leaving the party and Fletcher bouncing on stage behind, she wavered through the halls. Her eyes refused to focus, and her feet felt like they were lagging just slightly behind, making it incredibly difficult to find the floor beneath her. Somehow, she made it to the enormous black iron doors. Evidence of Father’s last tantrum still decorated the walls around the door, cracks splintering stone running like spiderwebs across the wall, and violent heat already radiated from the metal. She wet her lips before reaching out and pulling the door open enough for her to step inside.
White hot flame was already spilling over the edges of the brazier, Father’s torso extending through with onyx horns scraping along the stone ceiling as he leaned toward her at the door. “Favored daughter… Where. Is. My. Child.” His elongated canines clicked with each word, nostrils flaring wide over his perfectly manicured goatee.
Knee’s starting to quake, Atania was finding it hard to lift her head to address him. “I’m sorry… Father.”
“That is not an answer!” he bellowed, the enchanted metal of the brazier whining from the heat and the very bedrock below shaking. “Where is she!?”
Atania closed her eyes. She didn’t want to die, but here it was. Her last moment on this mortal coil. In her experience, people often lost control of their bodily functions in situations like this. With their demise imminent. The fear would hit them so hard that their body simply gave up. Oddly, her inevitable fall wasn’t what she was afraid of.
“I’m not bringing her to you,” she whispered, eyes slowly opening. While she’d wished that she could have mustered some sort of defiant look, all she could manage was an exhausted frown. “I won’t be the doom of that little girl’s hopes.”
The room went silent, even the roiling flames retreated as the burning coals in Father’s skull widened and his head lowered. His face now inches from hers, the heat radiating off of him stinging her skin, he whispered. “You openly defy me? ME!?”
The second heartbeat in her chest thumped hard several times as if it were trying to get her attention before slowing to a steady pace. Her own heart slowed to match it, her body relaxing to the point she could stare up into the fiery eyes. “Yes. I am.”
The fiery portal behind father shimmered, and he roared in pain as one taloned hand lifted into the air. He brought it down, the air in the room shifting with the speed and size of the swing, but just as she was about to be made the equivalent of an annoying housefly…everything stopped.
After a second, she’d mustered the courage to open her eyes again and looked up at the looming devil. He was blinking rapidly and the flames that encased his body were retreating rapidly toward the brazier. A thin line of silver smoke eked out from between slightly parted lips.
The sconces on the wall had all gone out, so Atania turned to the only source of light aside from the fading fire around Father. The iron doors to the chamber were ajar, a short, curvy silhouette with an outstretched hand holding a brilliant, glowing, orange and yellow orb stood at the threshold. She watched the silver gas languidly weave through the air and into the sphere.
Then her body twitched.
A scaled hand grabbed her shoulder as she tried to move, but even if it hadn’t, her legs refused to respond. Glancing down, the wispy white tip of an ethereal dagger jutted from just below her ribcage. There was no pain. Her muscles hadn’t even locked up.
Penelope strode toward her, the orb flaring in her palm. “I’d considered just killing you, especially after how rudely you treated my dear Gregor. I think this will be more fun.” She gave the saurien a nod, and a boot slammed into the back of her knee, crumbling her to the ground. “Instead of putting you out of your misery, I’m going to strip you of everything you are and make you watch the perfect world I create around you.”
“Penelope?” a small voice sounded from the staircase outside the chamber.
There was a pause, and then the sound of scurrying feet followed by Penelope’s hushed but frantic voice. “Gregor, come.” She felt a cold sensation spread from her spine as the ghostly blade slipped out of her. The doors to portal room vibrated as they slammed closed, leaving her in the dark.
Willing her body to move, she found her arms able to function, but anything below her ribs absolutely useless. “No no no no no…” She muttered as she took a deep breath and held out her hands. Flames roiled from her wrists up her fingers, lighting up her immediate vicinity and the enormous face of Father, the fire behind his vacant eyes gone.
She screamed and slammed her hands into the ground to try to get away from it. Fire burst from her palms and launched her into the air, where she landed on her back several feet away. Then the doors opened again. She wasn’t facing them, and rolling with her hips unable to move was proving difficult, but she could hear one set of boots walking toward her.
“Don’t come near me! I’ll fucking kill you!”
“That would be rude.” Fletcher’s voice echoed through the room. “What the fuck is that?”
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