The Power of the Soul

The glowing embers of a torch illuminated a small room devoid of any natural sunlight. Dark brick walls stood cracked and unkempt as if not tended to for decades.

Moss and vine grew in damp corners, trying to move upwards as if hoping one day they would reach the light of the sun.

A lone imp stood against a stone table atop which lay a man who looked to be in his late twenties.

His chest open to the world, revealing his organs.

"Demon Lord, heart, human, fix, Demon Lord, bring back, why did kill, why, why, WHY!?", the imp ran towards a stack of stained papers and tattered books.

It was as though they had been taken out of some abandoned library that hadn't been seen in years. Rare books that one might not see within a lifetime.

But that didn't matter, not to the imp. It's inner rage continued to boil in frustration. It wasn't long until it's mood returned to normal.

It looked back at the human laid unmoving.

It smirked.

"Revenge…".

Returning to the body, the imp placed a black heart in place of the human heart already present. It had long since stopped beating, but that didn't matter. The imp seemed to have a plan.

Moments later, the human's chest was now stitched closed.

"Demon Lord, come back".

A magic circle had been tattooed onto the human's chest. Runic symbols laid out surrounding it.

"KghhhhGhaGtttVkra—", the imp chanted as he held onto a tattered grimoire he had picked from the floor.

Sudden winds emerged in the dark space seemingly out of nowhere. No opening from which it could have entered. Rather it seemed to have been emanating from the table, the human body as it's source.

The magic circle glowed bright like the sun, the runes that had been surrounding the magic circle, now stretched in spirals around the limbs of the man like snakes coiling around their prey.

The imp continued to chant nonetheless, unfazed? No. Its only thought was completing the ritual. Everything else was only a matter of course.

The next second. The imp pulled out a dagger.

It eyed the dagger as if questioning something, was he going to stab the man after all he had done?

Within seconds the dagger was swung down, but not at the man, but it's own hand.

The sound of tearing flesh resounded within.

Only a moment later was the complete separation of its hand from its arm. Almost ignoring the pain it pulled its dissected hand to the man's now open mouth, pouring the blood straight in as if it were squeezing a lime.

The man's mouth opened wider as if demanding more. The imp responded stretching its open wound to the mouth.

It pressed on its forearm, pushing as much blood out as it could. By this point the pain was unbearable. It seemed as though the imp would collapse within seconds. But either by the strength of its will or its thirst for revenge, it remained conscience.

"Hannah! My son, Cassadin!", the imp was confused by the words that came out of the man's mouth. Is this the Demon Lord, or perhaps? The imp realised its mistake, the strength of the man's soul would decide if either the Demon Lord or the Man would take over. What if the Demon Lord loses?

The imp readied it's knife, prepared for the worst. He had faith in his Lord, but if it were to come down to it, he would have to say goodbye to this sorry attempt at revenge.

Within the mind of Astar, the figures of the ones he held dearest came into view. And yet, by the second, their faces began to fade.

In only a few moments, it were as though he had amnesia.

"Astar…", a voice rang out to him from the side. It was oh so familiar and yet so utterly revolting.

It was the Demon Lord, but this time he was much smaller. Rather he was the same height as Astar himself.

"Demon Lord!", as if moving by instinct, Astar tackled him pushing the demon to the floor.

"You took everything from me! My wife, my son, my brother, my parents, even my best friend".

"Keuhuhuhu", the Demon Lord, rather than defending himself, laughed.

"I have, but so did they", he pointed to the left, a group of 4 stood chatting amongst themselves.

A grim and sullen expression darkened the face of the valiant hero Astar. It was true that the Demon Lord was the primary cause of all his suffering, but his end was brought about by the ones he trusted most.

"Astar, leave your body to me, let me kill those bastards for you", the Demon Lord grinned, his red eyes glaring deep into those of the Hero.

"You've suffered enough, go join your family, leave the rest to me".

…

…

Astar looked down to the misty floor that was his subconscious.

'Maybe he's right?'

'I've suffered enough'

'I can finally be set free'

"Astar", this time it was a voice that brought tears to his eyes.

"Mother?".

"That's right my son, come here".

The figure of his mother embracing him felt warm and peaceful.

"Yo you stupid idiot", this time it was his brother.

"Hey, stop that, be nice to your brother".

"Yeah yeah, but he deserves it, look at him going on such dangerous adventures without me. To think he'd go alone while being unable to leave his back to me".

Astar laughed, his eyes damp and thin as he smiled.

But he soon began to look around, "Where is father?".

Their mother looked towards an open space to the side, the misty surroundings soon morphed into those of a spruce forest, a man sat on a stump looking down towards mountains of trees that stretched all the way to the horizon.

"It's beautiful isn't it?".

"Yeah…", Astar sat next to his father.

"To think you who used to cry over losing a stuffed teddy would save all of this".

Astar continued stare at the horizon, "I did, didn't I?".

"Your work is done then, wouldn't it be okay to just stay with us then?".

"Yeah…".

…

"I missed you dad".

"I missed you too—".

His words were interrupted by a baby's cry. But where was it coming from? His father grabbed his arm.

"Dad?".

"Stay with us".

"There's a crying baby".

"It's just your imagination, it's nothing".

"But it's hurting…?".

"It's none of your business".

"?".

Astar stared at the man that looked like his father. 'He would never say something like that' was the only thought running through his mind.

"I need to go".

"No you don't!".

"Let go of me!".

Astar shook off his hand, his father fell to the ground.

"Don't go—ghhh", the voice of his father soon muffled into that of an unsettling gargle.

His once regular father now replaced by a silhouette of black oozing tar. A tar which continued to speak in his father's voice.

"This-This isn't right".

Astar ran towards the crying wails of the baby. He didn't understand why he felt such pain at the sound of the screams but he knew one thing: he wished for it to end. He wished to comfort the child, make sure he was okay.

But why did he feel this way. Was it the fact that he was the hero? It was his responsibility? No it was something much more than that.

Finally noticing a small house within the distance, Astar ran even faster, "Hannah!?".

His voice rang out within the house.

'Hannah? Who was that?'

A woman who's face stayed blurry greeted him, embracing him as he entered.

A warmth that felt so real and nostalgic… 'who is this?'.

She pulled him towards a small crib. A baby boy laid peacefully in its sheets as if calmed at the sight of him.

Astar felt a weird calm. But why?

"No! Why don't you just stay within your happy place that I had created? I gave you everything that you cared for. So why!?".

"Not everything…", Astar looked towards the face of the woman stood beside him, her face returning to normal.

"My wife and son are still out there! And so are the scum who took away that happiness. I will deal with them myself".

"Not if I have any say in it".

Blood began to drip out of Astar'a mouth but it was not within his sub-conscience. It was his real body.

The imp stared on, waiting for the final outcome.

It's knife was at Astar'a neck by this point. It was taking too long, something was wrong.

Astar's eyes opened, revealing the dark room he was held captive within.

His eyes stared at the knife placed at his throat. "You can put the knife down imp".

The imp stared at him for a second but did as it was told. 'Only the Demon Lord could exude such an aura', it thought.

But it was only a second letter that it's head had been crushed. Astar's face grinned wide at the feeling of his hands and toes regaining their feeling.

The grin remained as Astar walked towards the door, supporting himself by the walls so as to not fall, a Villainous laughter echoed through the halls. Was this really the Hero, Astar?