A Tale Of Murderers

Fyn.  

Two jagged antlers that seemed to be as thick as leather rested neatly on the demon's forehead.

Fyn had been too busy ogling at the demon's attractive form that he missed this. Of course, he thought, He was a demon. He could choose any form he wanted. Why would he settle on something monstrous when he could look like a god?

Fyn's eyes fall on the demon's chest. There were markings, symbols Fyn couldn't quite decipher on it. They were dark, smoking, and even seemed to glow. The demon took a step forward, making Fyn jolt in place. Almost immediately, he felt his heart beat against his chest, his arms raised up in defense purely by instinct. The demon tilts its head at Fyn's action, and Fyn swore he saw something akin to curiosity flicker in them.

Again, the demon walked towards him, its muscular legs carrying his demonic body with such a calm aura that if Fyn hadn't known it was the demon in front of him, he could easily mistake him for another man in the village. Something caught Fyn's attention. Taking a side step, Fyn took notice of a jagged tail that seemed to swirl behind the demon. Blinking in confusion, Fyn narrowed his eyes at the tail. Its movements were reminiscent of that of a cat.

Then finally, the shadow had consumed Fyn. A squeak escapes him. And he stumbles on his step, falling back on his bottom painfully. Down on the ground, realization struck him. At first, he had thought he had become blind. Or perhaps the demon had cast a spell in his direction, killing him instantly. It was neither any of those things.

Fyn tilted his head up. His eyes widening a fraction in awe.

Two humongous wings extend themselves fully behind the demon's back. Its ragged black hooded pelt falling graciously by its feet. Spiky bones and black feathers that seemed to glisten under the sun stretched upward slowly, descending with a powerful gust. Fyn's eyes closed at the way the wind touched his cheeks. It felt almost cozy in a way. It made the hairs at the back of his neck rise. And when he opened his eyes again, blood drained from his face.

The demon started to approach him, closer and closer, its eyes never leaving his. Its stare becoming more and more menacing with every second. Its vibrant red eyes looked totally unimpressed, but still curious enough to stare him down. Gulping, Fyn crawled backward, his hands messily scramble on the ground, trying to feel something that he could use as a weapon.

"Hm," It said, making Fyn freeze. "What are you doing here, mortal?"

Fyn tried to open his mouth, but no words escape him.

"Do you have no tongue?"

Fyn shook his head. He realized it might have been the wrong thing to do since the demon's eyes narrowed at him. Tilting its head once more, the demon kneeled right in front of him, sniffing the air lightly. When it opened its mouth again, Fyn saw two sharp fangs. It made him shudder. Finally, after one last stare, the demon sighed and stood up.

Fyn blinked at the action. The sigh seemed so... human. Surely a demon wouldn't do that. Right?

"Leave," The demon hissed. "You reek of humanity."

A gasp escapes Fyn and even though he didn't want to, he flushed. Deep red tinted his cheeks, and he huffed. Slowly, he raised one of his arms, and as surreptitiously as he could, he ducked his head near his armpits just to check his smell and if he really did reek. Surely not. Hopefully not. He might have stayed far away from the village, but he didn't skip on personal hygiene. His tent was near the mouth of the river, there was a clean stretch of water far from the bodies that he could easily bathe in.

He did it every day, even though it's cold.

Much more than how the villagers back at Gashea did, thank you very much!

A snark almost made its way up to his mouth, except he knew it wasn't the smartest thing to do. The demon had a whole tail and sharp fangs. If he talked back, what stopped the demon from making his tongue truly disappear? What stopped the demon from using his sharp claws and ripping his tongue out? What stopped the demon from murdering him on the spot if he so much as utters a word of defiance?

Unconsciously, he starts nodding to himself as a plan formulated inside of his head, and then he waited until the demon turned around. Once it did, Fyn stood up and bolted towards the opposite direction, his heart hammering against his chest. Sweat dripped from his brow to his chin, his breathing erratic.

"Crazy," He muttered under his breath, looking back a fraction. "This is insane-"

Before he could fully process what just happened, he hit something hard and solid.

A tree?

The collision made him see stars and as he stumbled backwards, he lost consciousness almost immediately. Even before he reached the ground.

The last thing he saw was a blurry image of the demon running towards him. Fyn knew he would die once he reached the forest. He just didn't know it was this early. And he didn't know it would be because of some tree. Truly, fate does horrible things. He really was in out of his luck, wasn’t he?

And yet for some inexplicable reason, when Fyn opened his eyes again, he wasn't in the afterlife. At least, he thinks he's not. The afterlife oddly looked like what the inside of a cave looks like. And from the stories he heard, the afterlife was nothing like this. Blinking his eyes, he rubbed at them groggily, a yawn escaping him. Surveying his surroundings, he could tell that he was probably inside one of the mountain caves. The place was scanty and damp, smelling of musky water and morning dew.

In every corner, there were roots, rubble, and cobwebs. Beside him were ashy rocks and gravel. From a distance, he could even see crawling rats drinking from puddles of water. Only then did it dawn on him that he was laying down on the cold ground and his body ached like he had just ran an entire back and forth from his tent and back the village proper. Crinkling his nose, Fyn raised himself up using his elbow and groaned, an ache somewhere in his body he couldn’t locate making him wince. Lifting his hand up, he tentatively rubbed his forehead. He felt a bump forming.

He hissed, "Trust me to faint because of some stupid tree-"

"You are awake."

Fyn bolted up right, his thoughts empty. Gasping, Fyn's hand moved before he could stop it. He grabbed one of the rocks closest beside him and threw it immediately at the source of the voice. Adrenaline pumped inside of him and he crawled to press himself against the wall, looking straight at the demon's eyes. As if in slow motion, the rock flew steadily and if Fyn had been lucky, it would have hit the demon's face.

Except, the demon’s hand shot out so quick that Fyn thought he was just imagining it. The demon had grabbed the rock mid-air, stopping it before it could hit its face. Narrowing its eyes, the demon clenched his fingers around the rock and Fyn gulped as it crumbled inside the demon's palms as if it was something brittle like an old leaf. The demon made a sound almost instantly, a deep grumble erupted from its throat, and Fyn swore the entire cave shook from the sound. In one swift motion, the demon whipped the crumbs left on its palm away, "I should have left you, insufferable mortal, to the wolves."

"I..." Fyn bit his lip, his eyes looking around for an escape. He was in a cave, that he knew. Caves usually had exits and entrances, don't they? The place he was currently at was dimly lit by small candle fixtures that seemed to be embedded into the walls of the cave, but other than that, he couldn't see any source of light that showed a way out. Gritting his teeth, he puffed his chest, pressing himself further on the icy walls of the cave. Swallowing the lump forming on his throat, he glared at the demon with as much hatred as he could muster. He hoped that in the darkness, it didn’t see him tremble. "I never wished to be saved."

The demon snorted, rolling its eyes as it crossed its arms against its chest, and Fyn blinked in confusion once more. It truly acted as if it was... just like an ordinary human. To be honest, he was expecting fire coming out of its mouth, its tongue slithering like a snake, eight feet in height, and humongous eyes that bulged out of their sockets. There was nothing of that. The demon he stared at was more like a man than a freak of nature.

A man with horns and wings and a tail – but a man nevertheless.

"Mortals," The demon hissed like it was a foul word. Fyn found himself flinching at the sound, not understanding why. "Killing had always been an instinct to you lot. Even to those who offered you kindness."

The demon stared Fyn down. There was a pure intense rage in its eyes that for a second, Fyn almost felt embarrassed for attempting to hurt it. But why should he? It was a murderer and the world would be better if it was gone. Fyn's eyes fell on another jagged rock, and even with the demon's eyes still on him, he boldly grabbed one and clenched his fist around it. He faced forward, his stance rigid as he pointed the jagged rock with both hands, pointing it right at the demon.

"Then it would mean we are equals," Fyn spat, raising the jagged rock in front of him like it was a knife. He could see himself shaking, but it was better to pretend that he was brave instead of letting fear consume him whole. "I could kill as much as you if I wanted to, you…you murderer."

Surprise flickers inside the demon's eyes, and Fyn puffed his chest.

"What? You think you're the only thing capable of murder?" He furrowed his eyebrows. Slowly, he stood up, his knees shaky, not breaking eye contact. Not even once. "Even... Even though I'm human, I could ki... I could kill you!"

The demon smirked, its tail wagging like a cat once more. Its eyes never once leaving him, it stared, and stared, its eyes drifting slowly from his face to his foot then back to his face again. Fyn could feel warmth fill his belly as blood filled his face at the sight. Was the demon looking for weaknesses, he wondered? That was the only explanation for such intense examinations. He wasn’t one to look at, the demon must have wanted to find something he could exploit out of him.

Gripping the jagged rock tighter in his hands, Fyn heard something solid hit the ground, but he knew breaking eye contact with the demon was probably not the best idea at the moment.

Who knew what the thing was capable of?

He didn’t want to find out.

"Really?" It purred, fangs shining against the light of the cave. The demon slyly licked its canines, his eyes sparkling with hunger that it made Fyn gulp as he pressed himself tighter against the icy wall and gripped the jagged rock in a vice grip.

But then Fyn’s eyes widened.

In a flash, the only thing Fyn felt was a gush of wind. With a momentary blink, the demon teleported in front of him, leaving a black trail of smoke in the place he once stood a few feet away from him. Fyn's mouth opened in a silent scream. The demon looked as if he enjoyed this, his tail wagging excessively. It tilted his head, "And here I thought a mortal like you was not capable of speech."

It enveloped Fyn's hands that were holding the rock. Sharp black nails dragged across Fyn's skin, leaving red trail marks. Still, he expected the demon to feel cool to the touch. It was different. The demon felt warm.

Odd. Fyn blinked, staring at the hand, and slowly lifted her gaze until he met its eyes.

"Well?"

The demon hissed once more, grabbing Fyn's hands with the jagged rock and pressing it just above his jugular. It smirked. Fyn felt his lips tremble as he saw his reflection in the demon’s eyes.

"Kill me."