He more than followed through on his word. Humans were banned from critically damaged areas, their miles of monocultures destroyed and replaced with a proper variety of species. With the natural balance restored, trees grew strong and rivers ran clean. Plants and animals thought long extinct not only returned, but thrived in their revived habitats.
It was, of course, not without assistance. Bathin had great power when it came to communicating with the plants and animals, and could bring them back from the brink of extinction, but needed living examples to work with. No, to truly restore balance and revive the lands, a higher power was needed.
Dásos. The protector of Earth; both its soils and its flora. Only he could bring back the species of plants that humans had so carelessly eliminated. It was not difficult to gain his assistance. He was furious with humanity for destroying everything they touched. But before Bathin could even ask the Primordial to help, he had to find and awaken him.
It was said the ancient deity slept deep within the Earth, where his power could balance out the avarice of mankind. And where he could avoid the hateful stares of his peers.
But find him, Bathin did. And upon seeing the destruction with his own eyes, the Primordial wept. Of course, he would never take revenge, and instead began to help the Grand Duke restore the lands.
It was an arduous task, made all the more difficult when another deity decided to punish humanity on Dásos's behalf, creating tempests the likes of which the world has never seen. It was a brief, but catastrophic event, the entire globe covered in hurricanes. But when it was over, the Primordial of Earth bowed his head and swore to restore every piece of land both áeras and humanity had dared to touch.
And once the forests and deserts had been healed, and without any a request ?ther joined in back the fauna. It was a glorious time to see balance restored, even if it was only a temporary state meant to gain both human and Primordial favor, but Bathin revealed in every second of peaceful equilibrium.
Now, however, more than a thousand years later, his section of the world, his Dukedom, was one of the few places left where such serenity remained..Vitera had been revived just to knock it back down under a new oppressor. The same game under a different name.
But Bathin, as key a player as he was, refused to disrespect the lands he had so tirelessly worked to heal. Under his sovereigns orders, he established a Dukedom to rule over a large corner of the world, but his estate had been built with the forest in mind. They only used what they needed, and were always thankful for anything they took. And for that, the Primordials rewarded them by leaving them alone.
"Marthim!" Bathin called for his only son. "Hurry in!" He yelled from the balcony of his modest home.
Rushing for the urgency in his father's voice, Marthim ran into the house, locking the doors and shuttering the windows. "Yes, father?" He asked once the house was dark and quiet.
Lighting only a single candle, Bathin looked over the son who was a near clone of himself. Pride bubbled in his chest, followed by an aching regret. "You must return to Denim."
Wide eyed, Marthim gasped, What? But I've only just returned!"
"The Beast is on the move." He whispered, afraid someone may overhear, "I've received word from my spies in the other Dukedoms: he is recruiting soldiers, and taking the nobles' children."
"Then what good would it be to return to Denim now, if that's where the king wants me anyway?"
"There's something else." Bathin fidgeted with wedding ring. "Cimeies said the prophecy is close to ending. That a hell-child has already faced Adramelech once, and not only survived, but injured him."
"And how does that concern us yet? We need to remain here for our people." Marthim argued. "The demons need leaders to keep them in check, and the humans need our protection."
"It's not just that the hell-child appeared. It's who they seem to be." Bathin placed a hand on Marthim's arm, trying to comfort his son in advance.
Marthim pulled away and dropped his usually respectful attitude, "Quit being to secretive and spit it out."
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"The woman you told me about," Bathin began.
"Kesh is trouble?" The young demon threw aside his chair and rushed towards the door.
Bathin quickly grabbed his son's arm and pulled him back. "She's safe. The princes have her, and I'm told someone else, someone very powerful, is on her side as well."
"Those spoiled, self-centered, egotistical, arrogant bastards? And that's supposed to make me feel better?" Marthim was angry, but knew to keep his voice down.
"Lord Asmoday is among those "arrogant bastards."" Bathin quickly pointed out. "So be mindful of how you speak."
"Fine, I'll leave for Denim immediately. Keshiema is resilient, but can't let her face this alone." Marthim clenched his fists. As much as he wanted to see her, he hoped she had left Denim altogether. At least then she might be safe. 'At least of she is still there, I'll have another chance to apologize.' he thought. Then he an idea. "Father, let me take the trackers. It will keep them out of Adramelech's hands, and I can use them to find Keshiema of she's already run."
Removing his copper plate helmet, Grand Duke Eligos quickly greeted Adramelech as soon as the king arrived in Peril. The city, built on artificial island rings, center of the Black Sea, was the definition of beauty unparalleled. The glistening spiral towers were reminiscent of Atlantis both is appearance and layout, each ring of towers growing taller towards the center island.
After a refreshing night's rest, thanks mostly to Syrach's gift, Adramelech was feeling slightly more patient than usual, and returned Eligos smile. "My king, we've been expecting you!" He raised his scepter in respect in a respectful salute. "My mages are preparing a circle as we speak to teleport my army to Denim, and I have gathered my sons so you may decide if any of them suit your needs."
"You did well, as always, Eligos." The king commended his efforts. "I expected nothing less of you."
"Come, there is a celebratory feast awaiting you. In the grand hall." Eligos beamed as he lead the king inside his glistening castle. As they reach the grand hall, his smile faltered for just a moment, "I must apologize again for the lack of alcohol, for I know how much you enjoy your bloodwine."
"Not to worry," Adramelech waved a hand, "we came prepared with our own."
The knightly demon stood tall, reveling in the glory of his master. His enchanted kevara blazer, dyed deep red, emphasized his sparkling gray eyes and his proud, confident smile lent to his striking looks. The servants giggled amongst themselves as they spied from the kitchen. Noblewomen surrounded him, all vying for his attention in their low cut, corseted gowns.
"Excuse me, ladies," Eligos gently removed himself from the pack of ravenous females. "I must attend to our esteemed guest of honor." Picking his way through the crowd, he found Adramelech sitting up on his throne. "Your Majesty, I do hope you find the throne to your liking. Though I must say, it was not designed with such a powerful physique in mind."
"Yes, your throne is rather miniscule. But it is the finest seat in the hall. I can see why you have it." The long strokes the intricately carved stone, thinking about his own now was now damaged and marred beyond repair. "You'll have to send me the demon responsible for crafting such a fine piece of workmanship."
The clock tower struck loudly through the grand hall, reminding Adramelech he had other places to be. "I will leave you to your celebration, Eligos. I have other affairs to attend to."
"Of course, my king. Please, do let me know if you need anything else, my people and I are eager to assist any way we can."
Adramelech headed for Ardis immediately. Socializing with Eligos always left him in high spirits, and he would need that energy to deal with Bathin.
The Serpent-Daemon had never done anything to hint at disloyalty, but Adramelech could feel something hiding beneath the Grand Duke faithful, subservient appearance. The other Grand Dukes all spoke highly of him, as did the rest of the nobles. If he acted on his hunch, with unfounded allegations of treason, the empire he had so carefully crafted would surely crumble to dust.
Like Syrach, Bathin established his estate deep within a rainforest. But that was where the similarities ended. Where Syrach enjoyed the lavish lifestyle befitting demon nobility, Bathin lived modestly, to the point of inconvenience. Alcohol was a rare commodity here, and only consumed on special occasions. There were no concubines, either, as Serpent-Daemons mate for life.
Between the lack of amenities and the current cold snap in the region, he wanted to this over with as quickly as possible. Adramelech shivered as looked into the dark forest, the setting sun bleeding almost no light though the thick canopy.
"Bathin!" The king roared. Birds flew from the trees in colorful droves, and as their shocked calls faded, into the distance the eerie silence of a frightened forest took their place.
"My king," Bathin spoke from behind Adramelech and his company. "What a pleasant surprise. What brings you to my humble village?"
"Cut the shit, Bathin." The king growled at the Serpent-Daemon. "I need your trackers."
Sighing, Bathin shook his head, "unfortunately my son has them at the moment. He took them on a training mission and won't be back for some time."
"How long?" He demanded.
"Marthim does need to return to the Academy at the end of the season. So he should return in about four weeks."
"You are truly isolated out here." The king mumbled. "The Academy has been permanently disbanded."
"How unfortunate, but I trust you had a good reason. When Marthim returns I will inform him. Is there anything else I can help you with?"
Looking over Bathin, Adramelech thought about his mission to recruit dukal heirs as replacement horsemen. his son should be near the same age as that half human wench. Another reason to avoid Academy students.' "No, your jungle soldiers will do little good in an urban setting. What a waist of time. Mages, get me out of this shit hole. And Bathin, you'd best send me those trackers as quickly as possible."
"Yes, Your Majesty." Bathin bowed low as Adramelech teleported away.
Singer Lain: Starbloom
A saint groomed for sacrifice awakens a sleeping serpent and summons a ruinous, slow-burn love. Divine music, forbidden Heat, and a world where faith has fangs.
- dark romantasy ? slow burn
- a saint who won’t stay silent
- dragon gods, blood-magic, chosen-one fallout
- hearts vs. holy orders
- daily updates!
“A lush, sensual fantasy about power, purity, and the magic that blooms when a girl dares to sing her own song.”
Exiled to fetch the mythic Starbloom, Lain meets Mallow, a roguish herbalist with gentler hands than the clergy’s, and Morgan Balthir, a veinwright whose vows taste like chains. The Underserpent is waking. So is she.