After they had been ejected from their audience, Danyel apologised to them and said that they could stay in the royal room for the remainder of the night.

They returned to the room without saying a word, and Nerui fell asleep. Deadrick saw sleep as a waste of time; he had no need to do it. As the night progressed, Deadrick lay down, staring at the ceiling.

His journey had been wasted; the King had doomed everybody with his damn stubbornness.

As the grand clock in the corner of the room hit four, Deadrick felt a shiver down his spine.

There was something Unholy nearby.

He dived off of the bed, throwing the light on. Nerui woke sharply, her reflexes forcing her out of bed.

“What’s up?” She asked quickly.

“Something’s in the castle, something Unholy,” Deadrick said emotionlessly, as he strapped on his weapon holsters, slid his coat on and found his hat on the side cupboard, “Come on,”

He burst out of the door, and up the corridors. They were all empty, not a soul in sight.

Nerui had thrown her light armour on and picked up any weapons she could find in the mound of clothes she had tossed onto the floor and followed after him.

He followed his sense through the hall, and into the King’s dorm. Where were the guards?

The sense overwhelmed him as he reached the King’s bedroom; he swung his boot into the wooden door and the lock shattered, sending splinters into the air as the it flew open.

The reason his sense had awakened him was revealed, there was a demon… a horrific creature with dark red skin, evil claws and empty eyes. Strands of what looked like blood floated through the air from the demon itself, Deadrick followed them, watching with horror how they wrapped around the King and his advisor, Danyel.

The demon was possessing them.

“What is that?” Nerui said urgently.

“It’s a demon, a creature from the depths of hell, hatred and death made existent,” He replied, a small spike of panic in his voice.

“I’ll get it,” Nerui said, unsheathing one of her throwing knives.

“No,” Deadrick said, his usual calm demeanour returning, “The streams are their very soul, their essence, if we kill the demon, the shock could kill them too,”

“Well… what do we-“ Deadrick threw his hand up, silencing Nerui.

He strode forward towards the demon.

“Demon, you are not permitted entry to this plane, You are interrupting the truce made by the Planemasters eons ago. Please tell me what your purpose is here,” Deadrick had been taught that telling a demon the Decree Of The Planemasters, the truce between the different realms, would stop a malevolent demon from harming a life.

This demon didn’t want to talk.

It laughed, a shrill, evil laugh that would fill even the most intimidating soul with fear.

There was a flash of light as the demon broke the link between itself and the King and Danyel, and disappeared. As the link snapped, King Streylen let out a pained yell and crumpled to the floor.

He was dead.

Oh yes, quite dead, Deadrick thought.


The End

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