The demon’s bite

The days followed, and the nights brought their fair share of horrors for the Rosebudians. The marks on the dead bodies were not evident enough to prove that a human's hand murdered the soldiers, victims of this terrible fate, the lack of witnesses, and the state of fear the survivors were in were not helping. The bodies were found every morning mutilated with traces of claws and antlers, provoking nightmares and paranoia in the remaining troops. 

The Rosebudian army made a major decision, and when everything was organized, they set off their camp in an attempt to save their men's sanity. This day, the eight riders looked from a hill at the soldiers terrified, traumatized, packing their stuff and slowly starting to move. These soldiers had spent weeks trying to hunt what was killing them, not knowing the nature of the menace, and were led by the rumor of the eight demons roaming their roads killing their patrols, only feeding the fire of mass panic. Only to run away in front of the atrocity they were living, they would have to deal with the fact that they would never know the truth with certainty. 

Urak was content, every trick he had found in the book he read about controlling the crowds served him well, as for Jäwell and Rahir, they were somehow sad that their night hunting was done, and they were not sharing the feeling of victory the others had. 

It was done, they had won. 

People from Cardanic could exit the city again, and the path was now free to be accessed. It took time for the soldiers to leave completely, and Sarin stayed the longest, watching every single one of them leaving until there was none anymore. 

That night, Rufon made a campfire, they didn't want to face the ravages of the war on the city just yet. Enjoying one night of peace before returning to reality and realizing the consequences of what the Rosebudians have done. They all expected to find the worst, but there was a true feeling of peace for just one night, one single night. 

No war to win, no journey to attend, there was nothing except for the crackle of the wood in the fire, with no care in the world of anything. Nature would eventually erase the marks of the occupation and life would continue as if nothing ever happened. 

Sarin stood here, on a rock, looking at where the camp was. There was no joy on his face, and Jäwell joined him with a cup of wine. It was a bottle they bought on the trip and never had the opportunity to open. The wine was cheap, yet, it tasted victory, and that turned it into an unforgettable great vintage. 

Jäwell sat next to him in silence, as Sarin did for him in the tavern. He contemplated the landscape and what captivated the giant man. The voice of Sarin rose, trembling, and unsure of himself. The man needed his answers, and he could not hold any longer.

"What are you, Jäwell?" He eventually said, speaking enough quietly to be sure to not be heard by the others.

"I am human," Jäwell answered simply.

Sarin sighed, "And before that?"

"Before that. I am not even sure myself."

"Say it," Sarin almost ordered him, trembling. His nerves were about to crack after the last weeks they had been through.

Jäwell sighed, "Before being human, I have been the prince of the Ombrae."

"What is the Ombrae?" Tears of stress were forming in Sarin's eyes as he asked brutally his question. 

"You know what it is, Sarin, I saw the religious painting in the taverns, and on our trip, you call it hell, humans here know about my land. Ask your real question."

"Did I condemn my soul by working with you?"

"What do you think?" Jäwell sipped his wine calmly.

"I don't know anymore. The night had shown things to me, I never considered before. I was sure what I was doing was right, but after seeing the horror in the soldiers' faces, I don't know. Do I still have a soul, Jäwell?"

Jäwell could feel the distress in Sarin's expressions. He wanted to pat his shoulder friendly, but he found himself unable to do it, afraid to make things worse. Jäwell was not good for such situations and he answered awkwardly.

"I don't think you have a soul."

To these words, Sarin's eyes opened wide in shock, making Jäwell realize what he just had said, the former prince placed his hands in front of him and shook them frantically. 

"No, no, no, no! I mean, I don't think souls exist. Not in the way you think of it, at least. You can't lose your soul because you did something good or bad, for sure I never saw it."

"Then, how does it work?" Sarin asked genuinely.

"I don't really know. People lose themselves on the way, I guess, this is as simple as that. There is no soul to protect, just us, no matter what we are or who we are. I saw happy banshees and depressed angels."

Sarin shook his head, this was going against everything he had been told all his life, "This doesn't make any sense." The poor man was lowering his hands, reflecting on what he had done for the last weeks, "I lost myself, Jäwell."

Jäwell decided that it was the moment to pat his shoulder in an attempt to be friendly, "It is never too late. Believe me."

These words were deep and meaningful, Sarin raised his head to Jäwell with a certain hope in his eyes, understanding that Jäwell passed through such a struggle before. Sarin felt understood, but something was stirring in him. Something he could not define and that was urging him to behave in a certain way. 

Jäwell could feel how uneasy Sarin was, and he decided to put a distance between them. 

"Listen, I am what you call a demon, yes, but where I come from the real demons are the angels you venerate. We are always the bad one for someone else, remember this," Jäwell paused himself, thinking multiple times at what he was about to say. He took a deep breath and continued, "Remember this, my friend."

Sarin was surprised by this admission. He truly could feel like an equal to Jäwell. The only thing he was not sure of was if he liked this idea or not. To him, being the equal and a friend of the prince of hell was not exactly his first aspiration in life. 

Yet, he was on this rock, he had delivered the city of his childhood and his hands had killed plenty. He was called a demon, but he saved the citizens of his land. He was part of a united group while being a deserter of the national army. 

"When I was a child," Sarin started, "My mother was taking a belt to beat me and my sister, every night. I was going to my bed, in fear, and that day, the priest was talking about the demons pushing people to do bad things."

Jäwell sighed as he guessed where he wanted to go with his story, he silently listened to the big man who was opening his heart to the shadows.

"I convinced myself that the demons were driving my mother into madness, that these shadows dancing in the night were the ones responsible for my pain. My sister was talking about a demonic dog looking at her from the end of her bed at night. I didn't believe her."

Sarin shivered, he placed his hands on his shoulders and cried. The painful memories haunted him.

"Until one day, at night, my mother entered my sister's room to beat her. She was furious about some trivial things, I don't remember what the reason was. But I remember the screams. These cries marked my soul, Jäwell, they made me who I am. A scared man for life."

Jäwell took Sarin's hand in his and squeezed it, still listening carefully, a shiver running down his spine.

"When I found the courage to go and see, my sister passed due to the shock, but I saw it. The dog… He had claws like a raven, teeth and a smile like a hyena, and yellow eyes like a cat. This was no dog, his hair was looking like spikes all over his back and he was salivating as he was devouring the corpse of my mother."

Jäwell wanted to chuckle, he knew of these beasts, they were creations of Lady Fluffy. She had made them as an imitation of Teddy, and she had called them the Tedsters. As with every project Lady Fluffy had, she eventually got bored and released them into the wild. Letting her demonic spawn live their lives freely. Some of them must have found the maelstroms by coincidence and ended up in the worlds of light. Sarin was shaken by what he had seen that day and this changed him deeply, allowing him to see what was hidden in the shadows, including the true appearance of Jäwell. 

"Now I understand, this dog, if he was not here, my sister would probably have been killed by my mother."

Jäwell nodded, "These things are considered nice. They are loyal to the one they consider their owners. One of them probably got a liking for your sister and defended her."

Sarin nodded sadly, yet, he could not chase the fear he felt that day, and he said coldly.

"I was seven years old, Jäwell. This thing has terrified me for twenty-three years now. When will I ever be free of it?"

"Probably never."

"And I did the same thing to these men. Was it worthy?"

"Probably not."

Sarin sighed, his heart becoming lighter. Not because Jäwell had found reassuring words to appease him, but because he had found someone to freely speak with. That was what Jäwell was doing, he was inspiring freedom. 

The freedom of people from the oppressors, but not only, Sarin was somehow freeing himself from his fears at his contact. He found the warmth in Jäwell's world that he never found in the light. 

"This beast never induced my mother to be violent, isn't it?" Sarin asked as a rhetorical question.

Jäwell shook his head, "Humans have many ways to lose their minds. I can't tell why she turned like this. I can't promise another demon didn't influence her. The only thing I can be sure of is that the human mind is weak and easily prompts for the worst."

Sarin moved slightly to the side, the huge man felt fragile and wounded. He leaned his head on Jäwell's chest like a little child seeking reassurance, and Jäwell answered his need. The prince placed an arm around his shoulder.

The two men stayed together in this warm embrace in silence until the sun rose, looking at the stars in the sky. 

And the night was never so soothing.