The Ashen Fortress III

[Kuzuru]

As abruptly as it began so too did it end. The demon’s eyes shot open, his vision still blurred from Weiss’s haymaker. He tried to move, but the implacable grip of fatigue kept him pinned. Kuzuru groaned. Blood, slick and warm, soaked his sheets and filled the air with a rank scent. Wounds that were originally nothing more than the fabrications of a vivid dreamer were torn open across his body. Pain, searing agony, came in sobering waves. For a long while the demon did not move and instead languished. Despite this pain, despite this agony, despite all of this he still managed to smile. What a dream! What a God-damned dream!

Slowly the demon rolled over and threw his legs over the edge of the bed. The sudden exertion sent his world spinning. If he had to guess he had lost more blood than was left in his body. He chuckled and stood. His legs wobbled and gave out beneath him, sending him tumbling to the floor. Kuzuru tried to lift himself again, but couldn’t find the strength.

“Man,” he muttered, “what a lame way to die.”

As the demon’s eyes closed his door opened. Mathaziel stepped across the threshhold and frowned. While Kuzuru’s death would’ve normally been a jubilous occasion the elder demon did not cheer. Even now, as Kuzuru barely clung to life, Mathaziel could feel wires coiling around his heart. Their lives were linked and death for Kuzuru meany death for him, and he wasn’t guaranteed to come back. Mathaziel’s body shifted and transformed into that of a young bodybuilder. With his new form he scooped up Kuzuru’s limp body and went back through the door.

A grisly trail of blood followed the two demons as they made their way through the compound. At the center of their base was a fountain of blood. An entire room was dedicated to the macabre installation. Profane runes covered the walls and floors. in the center of this gently flowing pool of blood was a pedestal in the shape of a hand. This stone hand clutched a burgundy orb and pulsed with a tempo reminiscent of a lethargic heart. Mathaziel threw his kin into the pool of blood. For a while the younger demon stayed submerged in the viscera. The coils around Mathazirl’s heart slowly relinquished their grip. Eventually Kuzuru emerged, gasping of air and absolutely covered in blood. The two demons locked eyes and Kuzuru began to laugh.

“To think I’d be saved by you,” Kuzuru said, “that’s the best thing about this place Mathaziel, you can never predict what will happen next.”

“If my life wasn’t entwined with yours I would have delivered the coup de grace myself,” the elder demon answered.

“Awh, don’t be that way,” Kuzuru said, “I’m still in no shape to fight, go ahead and finish me off.”

Mathaziel said nothing.

“You’re no fun,” Kuzuru muttered and dunked himself again.

“What happened to you?” Mathaziel finally asked.

Kuzuru chuckled and sighed dreamily. He relayed his dream in excruciating detail. Every single scrap of minutia was retold with the fervor of a preacher. To his credit, Mathaziel did listen as best he could. After an hour or so had passed Kuzuru had finished his story.

“I think I still need a bit more time before I can get out without dying,” Kuzuru finally said, “can you go get my phone for me?”