Sovereign of Wrath

Guilt had superseded fury for Syl… she wasn't certain if she could consider herself Sylvia anymore. She felt like a person, mostly like the same person, but demons were anathema to humanity.

What had been Dhias's punishment to render her so? What vileness had she committed to earn such a fate?

Surely a righteous crusade to break the vile demon's hold on Astrye would not… Fewer innocents would suffer with decisive action… Was she punished for failing?

But why had her holy chains failed to burn the monster?

A monster who had given her a warning before attacking. A monster whose words to her after she'd failed to destroy the abomination she'd become still echoed painfully around her skull.

"Every penitent deserves forgiveness."

She was no penitent; her only crime failure.

Why then did sickening guilt keep pulling her knees into the snow and tears from her eyes?

"Oh, and who do we have here?"

She jumped at the voice, whirling to face the speaker. Striding out from between two trees was a demon of a type she'd never seen. Hooves dented the snow, pale blue skin caught the light, and three thin tails swayed behind the staggeringly tall four-horned woman. Silver eyes bored down into her, frigid above a self-assured smirk.

Instinctively, she tried to call upon her holy magic, but all that came forth was a sputtering gout of fire that barely reached halfway.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

"Oh dear, I don't believe I could even consider that pitiable display an act of aggression," the tall blue demon chided. "Though you would be loath to maintain such an aggressive posture in my Mistress's demesne."

"Kill me," the demon who was formerly Sylvia Frost, High Priestess of Dhias, demanded.

The other demon's eyebrows shot up, and she circled, hands behind her back, inspecting Sylvia like an art piece at an auction. "Here I was thinking you might have been one of hers, lost and stumbling for lack of direction. Most curious."

Sylvia threw a punch; the other demon nimbly dodged.

"Do you think I am some animal to be goaded? No, I think I shall not kill you, purely because you seem to desire it so."

"Why," Sylvia rasped, her voice hoarse.

The demon's lips quirked. "Because I am not so ignoble as to grant one of an ally's kind a prideless death." She leaned forward, touching cold, clawed fingers to Sylvia's chin and lifting it.

They glared at each other, the world going still for what felt like minutes. Eventually Sylvia broke the gaze. She didn't even have willpower to spit in the other demon's face, nor the energy.

"You look exhausted," the blue demon said as though it were an ailment to be fixed with a mug of warm soup. "Come. You have piqued my curiosity and I wish to know your story."

"No."

Sylvia blinked. She could see the other demon moving, but she lacked the energy to stop herself from being swept up in a bridal carry.

"Hmm," the blue demon hummed, looking down at Sylvia. "I suppose I can see the appeal of such an arrangement. Though I do hope to never suffer such indignity."

At Sylvia's glare she continued, "Oh, I'm not talking to you, you pitiful thing. Merely thinking of the ungracious actions of a friend's partner. Now, do try to hold on."

Sylvia wanted to struggle, but she didn't have the strength. None of what the other demon said made any sense to her.

"...a name?" came the blue demon's voice over the wind. "Do you have one?"

Sylvia swallowed, answering before she could catch the words in her throat. "I don't know."

"How odd. You must be one of those cases, then." The blue demon smiled with an earnestness that startled Sylvia. "You may call me Quiraxa."