Someone freed them. Who? Who would be so stupid to open the door to Hell and unleash the dark twistedness of humanity?

​

My chest aches. In fact every single bone in my body is trembling. At my feet are a combination of men, women, and, with great sorrow I say, children. I had known them all their lives. I was there when they fell to the plague, been the one who performed their funerals in the same church they were resurrected in. A cool breeze seeps into the church, swirling around their bodies, my feet, and the doors that had been pried off its hinges only minutes prior.

​

They were no longer human. No longer rotting corpses in the ground. Now they were corrupted, transformed into evil-incarnate. Demons.

​

Black blood drips from my sword. Exorcism had no effect. I take a step forward. I grunt.

Red soaks my clothes from the oozing wound in my stomach. My grip on the sword is sticky and slippery.

​

It had to be done, I tell myself. If I didn't act it would have been much, much worse.

​

I wrap my cloak around my body and head into the night. It will get worse, I’m sure, the demons will keep coming, until the crypts and graveyards and cemeteries are emptied, until they eventually invest the living; they will not stop until the door to Hell is closed.

​

This isn’t the first time they have come, not the first time someone stupidly brought Hell to Earth. Thunder roars overhead, rain following after. I clench the sword’s handle. The last time I wielded this sword was as a teenager, just shy of adulthood. That feels like a lifetime ago. Mud lines my hem. Children fear the forest and the shadows that come to life with their imagination. I had once been induced with this childish fear but not anymore. I raise the sword, cutting stray branches before they catch my cloak. There are only two swords in all of existence that can kill a demon. They were forged in saint's blood and hellfire passed down through my family. Mine and…

​

I stop outside the gate of the castle.

 

I’ll need the king’s help in expelling the demons from this world. I hadn’t talked to him in years, not since he and I used our hellfire swords for the first time.

 

//option for scene break icon here

 

The grand golden doors of the castle open, creaking into the polish checker-tile hallway. The wind blows the rain and leaves into the satin painted room. He repainted it since last I was here. This, of course, makes sense since this was where we encountered our first demon. The satin hides the black blood splatters. Back then, the demons rose from the dead and mutilated the souls of the living, essentially, turning them into walking corpses. But this time, they have stayed among the dead, most likely easier to move in the cover of the night.

 

I step forward, my muddy boots ruining the well-kept aesthetic of the castle, not for the first time and certainly not the last. Each movement echoes off the walls, climbing up the columns lingering by the intricate painted ceilings.

 

Quicker, dainty steps approach me. “Good priest, what do you think you are doing ruining the floors I just cleaned?” A maid stands before me, the one who raised me after my mother’s death, cleaned scraped knees and busted lips from my brother and I’s childish fights. A little blood never fazed her before, although this is hardly a little blood. She knows my name, but like when I was a child, she says only my title. In the light of the candle she holds, the flames illuminate my crimson red entire. “Good priest, I have never seen you wear such color—”

​

“Where is the king?” I interrupt. My tone is as sharp as a blade and just as deadly. We don’t have time for this. They are free. They will kill us all if we do not act.

​

The maid thinks to comment on my rudeness, surely, just as she had done most of my childhood. It was once her job to scold me and the king. But I’m not a child anymore, and my rudeness is justified. In the confusion, she squints at my garments. The crimson lines the hem with the mud, and red speckles onto the once pristine white. Hidden behind my back, but held tight in my bloody sticky grip, is the sword.

 

“Um.” The maid pauses. “He is in the throne room as always.” I do not say another word and walk forward. “Good priest?” I stop and cock my head back. “What business do you have with the king?”

 

I know she wants some explanation, and she deserves one, I know that. I rather just retell the tale once that is all there is, a tale for the story books. She does not deserve death, and that is what will rise with the sun in mere hours, not unless we stop it. This needs to be contained.

​

“They are free.” The maid blinks. Certainly, she questions who is they, but one good look at my concealed sword and she understands and goes silent. These demons, for those in the town who remember or will even acknowledge their existence, had destroyed lives, killed loved ones, twisted morals. Some ran, like her husband, some went insane, like the last king, and some ignored responsibilities, like me.

​

I follow down the hallway, disappearing into the shadows until I, myself, became one with the darkness. I know my way to the throne room, having spent too many days there once upon a time.

​

Turning the last corner, I open the doors to find the king sitting on the throne, his nose in a book. He’s replaced the carpet which isn’t surprising since this was where we encountered our second demon. He was so worried the blood wouldn’t come out of the carpet before the past king saw it, but eventually we got it out. The fireplace is roaring and heating the room, but there’s something different. It doesn’t appear to have any wood fueling the flames. Hanging above on the wall is an empty space where our hellfire swords once were. Where it should be.

​

“Where is it?” I ask. “Where’s your sword?”

​

“Good to see you again.” He places the book on a stack by his side. There’s a ring on each of his fingers. Gold shoulder armor catches the reflection of the flames. The value of his clothes could feed the entire town three times over.

​

“Where’s your sword?” I repeat. This isn't a game as he was so fond of making it last time. This is life and death. Hell cannot come to Earth.

​

“What brings you back to the castle? I thought you swore never to return?”

​

“They are free.”

 

“Is that so?”

 

“Yes.” I take a step closer to him. It’s strange he does not have more of a reaction, it was the demons that killed his first love. We just barely saved his unborn child from her womb. He should be angry. He should be unsheathing his sword and leading the hunt to end every single demon on Hell and Earth. Instead he stands there, uncomfortably calm and still. “Where is your sword?”

 

“Leave, brother.” His hand rests on his mortal-made sword handle. A warning. “Don’t make me say it twice.” He’s mad at me. I should have returned months ago, no, a year ago when his daughter first grew ill. I should have been there for him when she succumbed to the plague. He’s forgiven me for giving up the crown, but I don’t expect he’s forgiven me for abandoning him at his hour of need.

​

“The demons came after me at the church. They will come after you too.” I grip my sword. Light from a lightning bolt flashes through windows. “They want revenge on us for banishing them to Hell. They need to be stopped.”

​

“They will leave me alone.”

​

“How can you be so sure? It’s not like that crown is a shield.”

​

“They don’t want me.”

​

“But they want me?”

​

“Yes.”

​

“Why?”

​

“Because I sent them.”

​

I tighten my grip on my sword. “I beg your pardon? Why would you do that?” The storm begins to pick up outside. The fire beside us rages. My eyes are drawn to the flames, and the absence of the wood and coal puzzles me. There’s a metallic shine to it, something unnatural. A smell of rotten eggs meets my nose. Sulfur. It can’t be. “Please, brother, tell me you didn’t.”

​

“I had no choice,” he mutters. I can’t take my eyes off the fireplace. Hellflames. Our swords can kill any demon but also tear into the fabric of the universe to open the door to Hell.

​

“Why?”

​

“After Amelia died.” His hands shake at the memory of his first love’s death. “I went on, I had to. I had a daughter to raise. I had you to lean on. I coped.” Thunder rattles the windows. “Then you gave up the crown and the role of king fell to me. But I still had my child. I still had someone who loved me.” I step forward, muttering his name under my breath. “When she died, I had enough. I couldn’t take it anymore. I had no one. The demons were responsible for my grief and only they can bring her back.”

 

“It’s not that simple! It never is. Even demons can’t bring people back. All they do is

bring back the corpse.”

 

“Unless another soul takes her place in Hell. Another who shares her blood.”

 

“You traded my life?” I stumble back. How dare he?

 

“She’s my daughter!”

 

“And what would she think of your choices?” Anger fulminates inside me. “What do you think the demons will do once you have her back? Do you think they will just leave peacefully?”

How could I give the throne to an ignorant king? He should have came to me. He should have voiced his concerns, I would have listened. It’s my job to listen.

 

“I bound the portal. It will close at sunrise and take whatever demons that escaped with it.” My thoughts came to a halt. Perhaps he wasn’t as ignorant as I believe. Perhaps, but working with demons is dangerous. “I’m not stupid. I know the risks and I’ve accounted for everything.”

 

“Not everything. I’m still alive.”

 

“Not for long. You’ll succumb to your wounds. It’s just a matter of time.” I had almost forgotten about the gushing blood spewing from my stomach. The adrenaline masks the pain for the most part, but the blood trail I leave behind me does little in hiding the truth. “I don’t hate you for not wanting the throne. But it is time you face the consequences of your actions. I will not live without my daughter. I must take the responsibility of ensuring the kingdom’s survival. The kingdom needs an heir.”

​

“Not like this, brother. We can stop this. Please, I should have never left.” This stuns him for a second. He never wanted the throne, neither did I. We were both content in letting our cousin take the throne, but even he fell to the plague. “I’ll take the crown back. I’ll marry for advantage. I’ll provide the kingdom with an heir. I’ll bear the responsibility. But we must stop this. The demons are out there and by sunrise it will be too late. The demons will kill everyone. There will be no kingdom left to rule. We must close the portal.”

​

“You’re wrong. The demons will only kill in pursuit of you. The moment they wounded you, that deal was done. And the moment you die, the demons in all those corpses will return to Hell.” I glance down at my wound. It’s not getting any better, in fact it’s getting a little hard to stand up right. “I have never asked anything of you. Nothing. Not a single thing in all these years. But let my daughter live. Please, why can’t you just let her live?”

​

“Because that’s not the natural order!” The adrenaline starts to fade and the numbness vanishes with it.

 

“The dead must stay dead.” I use my sword to keep myself standing, but he can tell, I’m sure, the loss of blood and the pain is taking root. “Our father tried to fight death. He tried to bring back our mother. You knew that was wrong then, why can’t you see it now?”

 

“This is different.”

 

“How is this different? You’re blinded by loss just as he was.” I collapse. His body catches me before I hit the ground.

 

“Brother,” he whispers. From the tone of his voice I believe he might just regret his choice.

 

I laugh, the blood coating my lips. “I hope the demons hold up their end. But if they don’t. Promise me, promise me you’ll take my sword and end them.”

 

“I promise.”