Oceans of flame danced within the gaze of open, arched segments in a circular stone room, granting their eternal warmth to the throne inside. The throne was comprised of obsidian, cradled in circling steps. No portraits devorated this sanctuary, no candles or grace of elegance. The chamber was all but empty, save he who sat upon the pedestal. A great, scaled silhouette, cast in blazing crimson, whose shadows danced with the roaring chorus of his charge. His sword hand held in its clawed grasp an orb of dancing embers, eyes intent with anticipation. The orb swirled and churned with a tempest of activity, but none so invigorating as to upset his beholder. The demon let out a low, growly sigh, and placed the orb on the arm of his throne.
"What a burden it must be, to oversee the fruits of thy ancient victory," a whispy voice spoke aloud. The demon's finger stopped mid-tap. His eyes shot up, but met no gaze. His head slowly turned side to side, just enough to grant his weary eyes glimpses of the chamber.
"Khalkatha...," The voice continued.
"Esofar," the demon muttered. "You seek audience with the father flame? You are bold to make unappointed meeting with the caretaker and then demand of him his father."
"It is not meeting I seek, flameborn jester," the voice whisped. Esofar's head rose slightly as he considered the words.
Black smoke plumed into life before the throne, giving life to an aggressive violet figure. It lunged at him with a clawed hand, guiding the shadows to his face. Esofar's left hand sprung upwards, catching the talons in his palm. He allowed them to dig into his scales and taste his skin as the shadows took shape into a creature a foot smaller than him. Riddled in thorns, skin pulsing with violet light, the aggressor's amethyst eyes caught his own.
"A shadow demon?!" Esofar blurted. The attacker pushed forward, striking at him with its free claw. He caught the attack with his opposing hand. Esofar's lips curled in amusement.
"You must be very powerful... or very old. I would wager the latter," Esofar muttered. His muscles flexed, flashing with an inner flame, and cast the shadowy attacker backwards, to the foot of the throne's steppes. For a moment their eyes remained locked. Long enough for Esofar to regain his composure. He folded his arms in disappointment.
"What? You're going to undo our binding magic from here? Are you so eager to abandon your existence? Perhaps you've grown tired of hiding in the shadows after all." Esofar offered with a chuckle. The shadow demon's eyes pulsed, but it remained silent. "The flame wheel whispers your name, Isador... but surely not the name your blood is bound by, no? Perhaps you have no name. Not after exhausting your kin's courage by hiding amongst the herd. So, you wish to challenge the father flame? And yet you make this blunder? I would say I am surprised... but I am not."
Esofar reached for his side, grasping a large, elegant sword hilt furnished in shining gold. He rose the hilt, that which bore no blade, and pointed it towards his attacker.
"You are mindless rabble. You would devour the mortal realms without hesitation, and starve yourselves out in but a breath. You have no control. No discipline. Such a display so provident before me this hour."
The shadow demon backstepped, as if slipping into a window of darkness. Opposing windows appeared around the caretaker, but he did not move. Violet light spewed from their depths, forming into bladed chains that struck out at him. Just before they would bind him, Esofar's sword exploded to life, casting a liquid flame blade. He spun around, catching the chains, and shattered them to dust with his hellish whirlwind. The Shadow demon came down from above, having jumped from behind him, and reached out with its hands. A shaft formed from the shadows, taking shape in the image of a pulsing violet spear. Esofar caught the weapon with his sword, forcing him back a step as he resisted Isador's rush.
"Excellion, Spire of the Night. I have seen this weapon before," Esofar muttered absently, allowing the pike's edge a taste of his breath. It drew from his energy with its very presence. "But not in the hands of a fool."
Esofar gave strength to his parry, pushing Isador back. Blazing embers washed across the red giant's body in harmony, moving with every flex of his muscle. He was completely attuned to his sanctuary.
"You hear it, don't you? The thump of the shadow world's heart, ever soft beneath the ocean of stars." Esofar offered his aggressor a grin beneath their blades. "A pity your world still sleeps, no? How does it feel? How does it feel to be so close to your freedom yet so far?"
Esofar's body once more flashed as his mind whipped strength into his muscles, pushing his advance, and hurling his opponent across the chamber. Isador wretched his pike aside and rolled away, allowing Esofar to slam into the wall. The fire demon's body blurred with motion as he swung his sword in a wide arc. Isador's pike parried this attack, throwing him to the ground with the impact. Again Esofar lunged, but Isador lept backwards, avoiding the thrust.
"Perhaps I underestimated your cunning. Surely, you have some talent to have made it so deep into my citadel... a pity you are unworthy for these sacred halls," Esofar ranted. "Your illusions and schemes are futile here. Your world is lost, fallen. You know this!" His eyes burned brilliantly, overcoming the light of the distant flames. Isador could feel the light burning into his flesh. The gaze of the stars made manifest bit into him, forcing him back. He had not anticipated such strength. Indeed, the fire demons had grown much stronger over the years. He felt a distinct regret. Esofar surged forward in this moment of vulnerability, thrusting his sword. Isador felt the strength of Kalkatha's caretaker. He whose eyes burned with the ferocity of the stars. He could not react fast enough.
The flame's edge tore through Isador's shield of shadows at the behest of its immortal master, then through his flesh. A burning edge that sent spikes of pain through his body and mind. Isador cried out a savage shriek, raising his lance and striking into Esofar's chest. But his strength was not enough to pierce the scales of the caretaker. Esofar spun him around, forcing him into the wall with the force of his blade. Isador's shadowy skin welcomed the embrace of its hit, and for a moment he felt the blazing life beneath the skin of the demon warrior. Just enough.
"You should have stuck to the shadows, arrogant fool," Esofar muttered. "How frustrating it must be to fail at the gate to your salvation with such a flamboyant gamble. But you shall not die. Not yet. Oh no. We're going to have some fun, yes?"
Isador's eyes pulsed vibrantly. Esofar hesitated at the show of defiance.
"The drowned night... shall consume your ocean of stars...," Isador's strained voice whispered in his head. His pike dissipated into a flutter of ashes, the demon's strength draining by the moment. Still he clung to that tiny taste on the tip of his tongue. "This I promise." He bit into the drop of life he had taken from the caretaker. Isador's shadows returned to him, and in a vibrant flash, he vanished - taking the blazing sword with him.
Esofar stepped back, laughing once he realized what had happened. "Run, shadow, run! Where the stars gaze you shall forever know fear!" his voice rippled throughout the shadow realm after Isador.
A lost world of faces and images, a dimensional rift between worlds. A labyrinth in eternal slumber. Isador stumbled forward, grasping the blazing hilt with his hands. He pulled with all the strength left in his arms, tearing the searing edge away from his smokey flesh. With this motion his concentration shattered, hurling him through an infinite tunnel of darkness. He fell backwards, landing in wet grass. The weapon's edge still burned in his grip as its glow dulled to an orange-hot, but the wound in his chest burned hotter yet.
"Freedom... shall be ours again...," Isador muttered to himself.
...
It had been so long ago, but the mention of another demon by the mortals around him made his phantom wound ache. He tried his best to maintain to the work at hand. As long as he remained on his side of the table, and they on theirs, they didn't panic or do the other foolish things mortals do. They were sitting there, counting the riches of the bandit 'king' as he were, all eager for their cut. It was tedious work, and the dark night made it no easier. Isador couldn't help but eavesdrop...
"A man left Astron, just last night. Source said something was wrong with his arm, wasn't the right color," the man shot a scared warning look at Isador, obviously discolored in nature. Isador made no indication having heard him. Feeling secure to speak again, the man continued... "Super human strength, too, he broke apart a door with his fists..."
"That ain't so strong, my uncle can do that. Seen it five times." A couple of other men chuckled at the younger one's comment.
"Say what you well but that isn't right. He isn't right. You know it all revolves around the princess being kidnapped."
"Oh here we go again," another man said, exasperated, "how would you even know the princess was kidnapped, you git? You've been holed up here all day," the others laughed with glee. Isador, having finished counting the money before him, got up to leave the table. "Hey where are you going?" one of them asked defensively. He cringed when Isador turned to face him, to Isador's glee.
"To bed," he said with a frightening grin. He turned back around and walked unmolested to his bed roll, far from the others and farthest from the fire. Their talk confirmed what he knew was already true - someone of this realm had found a way to harness the power of a demon. Isador had felt the presence of another demon just last night, but he was far away, and weak. But in the past hour he had felt something stronger. The man (if that were possible, it must be another being, he thought to himself) was using the demon's strength, and the demon enjoyed it, before the connection was suddenly cut from him. He wasn't sure which thought made him sicker...a demon enjoying being toyed with, or the demon existing the first place.
But other than find him to know for sure, there was not much he could do. He was still in a weakened state, although these mortals didn't realize it, and if it were a fire demon, if it sensed his presence immediately...even incased in a mortal shell who knows how he would fare?
He heard the men at the table cackle wildly again. Then again, life wasn't great among these miserable thugs and dullards. A change of atmosphere might do him well. The night was young, he still had an entire night before daybreak. He could track this man, see it for himself. No one would stop him, no one would demand he stay. What have they got to gain by confronting a demon?