The Binding

Her storm gray eyes glistened in the darkness.

The cavern had the taste of brimstone, as likely it should. Its silence echoed and filled the emptiness. There was no saying what else it held, but a whiff from the air would suggest rotting carcass and bones. It was a sight to behold; if one could get a chance to see it, and survive. The only contradiction within was the lake beyond--serenity it imbued, security; a momentary ecstasy of peace. The only light in the cavern reflected upon it like a beam of truth, as the moonlit sky peered into the crevices.

She too, was a contradiction. Despite the corpses lying about, she smelled of nostalgia--of yellow roses in the summer breeze--enticing and welcoming. Her hooded cloak hid most of her, but her eyes still glistened, matched by her pale face. Pale as ivory. Her thin pinkish lips arched into an impish grin, as her tongue darted playfully around them. For a moment's notice, it seemed she harbored ravenous shark-like teeth. But only for a moment.

At long last, she said to herself, finally breaking the silence--reverberating through the stone walls; a voice filled with longing.

She knelt as she went closer to the lake, her slim fragile fingers brushing the once quiet waters. She saw her long raven hair peek through the ripples of her reflection.

A waste. But if I were to conquer it must be done.

A hissing purple mist came to being by her side. As it slithered and rose to the ceiling of the cave, images began to emerge--until only a single picture remained. A hulking and ominous goliath. Its sick green orbs steamed and seared the charcoal shades of the night; only its silhouette could be housed where she dwelt. It was then she tasted the brimstone by her throat. She shrugged the feeling that stirred inside her.

The voice the giant carried was hoarse and booming as it spoke, "I see you are ready for the ritual of blood and flame, yes?"

She did not answer. She looked back at the dead bodies lying restless and festering. She will not fail as they have. She must succeed. She is the last scion of her great nation--a kingdom that once held the world in an iron grip. But it is a remnant now. She was the only remnant left. It is now mine to bear.

"Illiya!" the creature spoke again. Louder that the cave almost seemed to buckle.

"Yes my lord Balza'ar. I am ready."

For Illiya to gain what she has always sought for, she must seal it with her master's blood and hers. A sacrifice for her family's sake, for her own survival, for the power to conquer all and gain what was rightfully hers. A deal with demons.

Balza'ar pointed with one hideously spiked finger at the lake. She took one last shaky breath. This is the end of her own entity--the singularity of the soul.

She took a leaf shaped knife underneath her cloak as she began to undress.

The water was cool against her naked body as she dipped slowly into the pool. Her silver flecked orbs looked down at her shapely reflection again. This would be the last time she saw herself this way. Never forever.

As the lake embraced half her body, Illiya gripped her knife tighter. It was time.

Hot sharp pains struck her forearms as she slid the blade through--two deeps cuts to stain her image crimson. She felt nausea. A throbbing pain in her chest about to explode. Her nose was clogged with smoke. The liquid that engulfed her seemed to steam, more viscous--her skin was melting. She was burning.

Then everything turned gray.

She neither fainted nor lost consciousness, but she felt dead. Only the vermilion image of her existence remained.

At last, just as quickly as it came did it dissipate. She was no longer blind. Her sight adjusted to her arms, there were no wounds, no scars--only pale radiant skin remained, like the moon. There was only a faint evidence of dark veins that snaked all over her slim sultry features. But as she looked at her face, the pool did not reveal the beauty that she truly is. It was the face of her master that she saw, the demon's face. It's green eyes still burning any inkling of sanity. Horns like dead oak. A nose it had none, but long jagged teeth jutted out of its yawning mouth. Fire was its breath, and flames its blood. Brimstone choked her lungs.

Thus was the beginning of their binding unity. The pact. The wedding of master and slave.

This power was now hers to command. Always for a cost.

In spite of herself, she smiled.