Music recommendation: Heart-Shaped Box (Orchestral) by Ramin Djawadi on Spotify.
"Tell me, Lyra, what do you desire?" Troy asked. He was curious about this woman. He only received vague information about her and her name from the other demons and prisoners—stubborn and mysterious.
Lyra remained tight-lipped, not responding to his question.
"Why the silent treatment? Though I love hearing my voice, I would rather hear yours," he teased. "Tell you what, I will answer your question if you answer mine." Dangling the offer over her head like a prized treat.
Lyra's eyes flickered at the tantalizing words he spewed. Hesitant, she opened her mouth only for his index finger to be placed on her lips.
"Ah, ah. Before you ask, you have yet to answer mine first," he reminded. His finger trailed down her bottom lip. Wanting to devour them to his heart's content, he mentally reigned in on his carnal urges.
"Freedom. I want to leave this place." She stated, flexing her fingers and flailing her feet with the chains shackled to her ankles rattling against the floor. "What do you want from me? What's the purpose in all of this?" Annoyed at his stupid question.
"Hmm…quite the repetitive parrot I have," he chuckled. "It is rather a long story, and I wouldn't want to bore you with the details, but I will let you in the short version."
He wondered if this human was what they'd spent decades searching for. The baffling discovery he stumbled upon made his smile broaden. He could almost grasp the thought coming to fruition, but not yet. Patience is a virtue.
"Centuries ago, an Oracle spoke of a prophecy," he said, grabbing a strand of her hair and twirling it around his finger as he stared down at her.
"A prophecy that would bring about the calamity upon this realm." His eyes gleamed as red rubies.
Troy paused to let the words sink in and continued. "All the creatures who walk this godforsaken place will kneel before the true ruler of this realm and rebuild it to his image."
"Now, you're going to ask me why me? Why the women?" He questioned, wanting to prolong this game.
"I wasn't going to ask. But if I had to answer, I have no fucking clue." Lyra retorted. Troy was amused, he continued.
"The oracle spoke of a vessel."
"…"
A vessel? What is this lunatic going on about? A growing headache was brewing as she tried to focus on his words. Prophecy. Vessel. Calamity. None of it made sense!
"I see that little brain of yours is tinkering. Do tell." He drawled, moving closer to Lyra as his hand released the end of her curls, trailing up around her slender neck. His lips were a breath away from hers. He wasn't afraid of what she was capable of. He welcomed it, only adding to the electrifying tension in the air.
Lyra's mind whirled with a million things a minute as the room around her spun. Her heart accelerated by the revelation, and she felt a burn at the pit of her stomach. The nightmares, the women, and the suspicious drink. She felt like the final piece of a missing puzzle clicked, scaling back to see the whole picture. The question that lingered within her mind she asked,
"Am I some sacrifice? Poof! Out comes your savior?"
"That depends. The sacrifice isn't just a ritual. It's a key, a catalyst for a transformation that will reshape this realm. The question remains of what role you fall in this grand design?"
Lyra couldn't answer his jumbled question, for the air ceased in her lungs by the fingers slowly tightening around her throat. Troy's eyes burned bright as his lips descended upon hers.
Trying to shake from his hold, he planted his other hand firmly on her waist, keeping her in place. His tongue gained access as her lips parted, tasting every part of her. She was trapped.
Black dots danced over Lyra's vision as she fought the urge to give in to his temptation and suffocation. She suddenly felt an unfamiliar sensation below her abdomen pulsing and the pain in her head throbbing as both conflicted with one another, causing her to short-circuit. The pain and pleasure Troy gave was overwhelming.
A high-pitched tone rang in her ears to the point she was in dire need of air, but Troy wouldn't relent with his domineering kisses, nibbling her bottom lip and rolling his tongue over it. It was too much for her.
The rest of her body went numb as her brain lost circulation. She felt something stiff pressed against her stomach as Troy pulled her closer to his chest, grinding his hips against her.
After having his fill and wanting to take it a step further, Troy noticed the lackluster in her eyes as her pupils dilated. Leaving a string of saliva from their parted lips as, he released her bruised neck as her head slumped forward.
"Pity," he deadpanned.
Stepping away from her, he picks up the small knife from the table. He spoke too soon on the claim she was the vessel he was looking for. Walking back to Lyra's body, he could at least have a little more fun with her before he disposes the body later.
Drawing the blade to Lyra's chest, the tip grazing her skin. Troy suddenly sensed a presence, tilting his head up to the ceiling as though he sensed the direction of the intruder. His mood turned sour; he would have to deal with that pest later.
Troy trailed back to the task at hand at Lyra, ready to plunge the knife into her chest. A hand shot out to stop the motion from piercing her skin. His eyes widened to see her clutching his wrist.
'How did she—' he pondered.
Troy didn't get to finish that thought; a harsh kick in his stomach propelled him across the room, crashing into the stone wall and burying him under the ruble.
The shackles that bound Lyra's wrists and ankles shattered as she dropped from the air, landing on her feet. The torches around the room flickered as black wisps started to form from the shadows, floating and twirling around her. Her hair covered her face. She slowly walked to the door.
Hearing another commotion, the two guards were about to check on their master, but the door exploded in their faces, blasting them to the wall in the process. They never saw it coming. Lyra gracefully stepped over the two bodies as she exited the chamber.
Alarmed from the blast, more demons stormed the hall, weapons drawn; they snarled at her. Lyra didn't falter as she kept walking down the path. The demons charged at her; however, black wisps sprang into action around them, impaling a few of the demons like meat skewers while others were wrapped by the black snakes, strangling them to death. Bodies toppled one after another, and the demons were terrified by the raw power Lyra exuded.
As more demon soldiers kept coming, Lyra's body pulsed as the dark wisps grew more violent, slashing down every foe in its path. The magnitude of the power made the air in the hall shift. The surviving soldiers noticed a pulsing glow emanating from the woman, shock etched on their faces.
Amidst the carnage, Lyra halted, lifting her head and facing the ceiling. As if possessed, her eyes are entirely black with black vein roots sprouting from the corner of her eyes; she takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. The glowing pulse grew with every beat of her heart. Releasing an earth-shattering scream, a burst of light erupted from her, sending a shockwave to her surroundings, blasting everyone in the vicinity to ashes and causing the integrity of the underground building to cave in.
***
Meanwhile, occasional thunder rumbled at the surface of Rasar Fortress, where the sun was overcast by stormy clouds. Many soldiers scurried around frantically to the commotion down in the dungeon. It was utter chaos. They didn't know what the cause of the disorder was.
The disturbance from below had the demons on edge, their focus shifting to the turmoil below. Calls for reinforcements reverberated through the corridors, leading to a thinning of the guards at the front gates. Two demons remained, guarding the entrance and exchanging hushed conversation.
"What do you think is going on down there?" one demon questioned, his voice uncertain.
"How the fuck am I supposed to know that? Just get back to work." The other replied dismissively.
After a long pause, "Don't you find it strange, though, there are only women down there? Why all the reinforcements?"
"I don't give a shit! Orders are orders."
"Maybe Master Troy is throwing another one of those…gatherings." The first demon suggested a lewd grin in his voice.
"Are you mad?! Why the hell would he bother to invite the whole platoon for a goddamn sex party?!" the second demon scoffed.
Unbeknownst to them, a tall, hooded figure stood silently beside them, leaning against the fortress wall. A low, husky voice cut through their conversation,
"Bind."
"WHO SAID THAT!?"
"What the—?!"
The demons turned, their eyes widening in surprise and fear as they realized they were suddenly bound in black chains, strangely, out of thin air. Frantically trying to squirm free, they toppled to the ground as the chain snaked over their mouths, muffling their cries.
The mysterious figure strode past them, leaving them to struggle; he was perplexed at the commotion before him. He was sure the demons would have taken notice of his presence only to be disappointed by the lack of a welcoming party.
'If they're not here for me, I'll take it as a blessing,' he thought.
Stealthily making his way to the keep, he stepped around the courtyard's edges, masking himself in the shadows as a small platoon of guards hastily marched past him. By the tension of the demons, the man couldn't help but have a clue of what might lurk in the depths of the fortress. His red eyes hardened at the thought.
The mission to search for information on the prophecy was his top priority, and that information was in the den of demons. He was running out of time, and his gut was telling him that the demons may have found what they were looking for.
He's been following them for days once he caught a whiff of their whereabouts. He was repulsed by the ruin left in their wake. His hands clenched into fists as if he felt responsible for the demise of so many lives.
Suddenly, the earth beneath him shook. He held the side of the stone wall to steady himself. A large explosion ruptured the ground in the courtyard, flinging debris in all directions.
A blinding light beamed, causing everyone, including the hooded figure, to shield their eyes from the pit at the courtyard's center. The shockwave of the blast momentarily stunned him.
As the smoke cleared and the light dimmed out, the mysterious man recovered quickly from the momentary stun, slightly dazed. He noticed the demons nearby were prone, unconscious, or dead from the destructive force.
'By Eden's grace…' he couldn't fathom what those demons were up to but the damage it caused. He could only guess they found what they were searching for.
He peered back at the gaping hole at the center of the courtyard, only to narrow his eyes as he noticed black, inky wisps crawling along the edges of the surface. His face hardened as his muscles tensed on impulse of the threat; the sinister aura he had long forgotten came back to haunt him.
Steeling his resolve, he remained standing. His mind ran a mile a minute; he could resolve his issue soon and reclaim his life. His hand flexed, wanting to unleash his power over the enemy climbing out of the pit, but faltered in disbelief.
'A woman?'
Crawling out of the pit, her clothes in tatters, her body drenched in blood while black whisps whirled around her protectively. Lyra stood motionlessly away from the hole, her tangled hair stuck to her face and back.
The man took a short breath, 'this woman is not him,' repeating the mantra to steady his heart.
His entire plan had gone off course; the pressing matter was the chaotic entity here. He needed to apprehend her before more demons returned, potentially catching him in the crossfire.
With a stony expression and crimson eyes glaring at her, although Lyra didn't seem to notice him, he extended his hand from his cloak, summoning his weapon.
"Bind," he commanded, his voice low with resolute.
Two black chains erupted from the soil beneath Lyra's feet, coiling her body like a cocoon, leaving her head unhindered but immobilized. Her expressionless face, framed by the black roots around her eyes, slowly turned her head towards the cloaked figure's position.
The cold air was thickened with magic and animosity. The man's cold eyes kept her gaze as he slowly approached, ending this ordeal. However, the next thing he heard from her lips rendered him speechless.
"Shatter," Lyra uttered—a single word that held such power over his abilities. His weapon, shaking hesitantly, shattered into little rings, scattering around her. The man halted. His eyes widened as he staggered in bewilderment.