Page 117 of Mortis

Did they truly believe fire could harm something forged in Hell? Our vessel had been born amongst its flames. Moulded by Mammon’s own hands. Fire was not something we feared.

Fire was home.

I caught the torch by its handle and ripped it from their grasp. The mortal stumbled forward and their eyes widened. Their lower lip trembled, and I swung before they could speak. The torch struck the side of their skull with a sickening crack, and their body crumpled. Blood spilled across the stone beneath their head, their lifeless eyes staring up at me. I dropped the torch beside them, and flames caught on the hem of their cloak.

Then the screaming began.

Some attacked. Some ran. One dragged out their sacred book and began desperately reciting the words that had bound us once before. But none of it mattered, because they were only mortals. Our claws opened throats. Our teeth tore through flesh. Bones snapped beneath our hands. Blood sprayed across stone. Screams became wet gurgles before falling silent.

I had often imagined what we would do if these chains ever broke. But the reality was far more satisfying. The rapid pounding of their hearts had been deafening when we entered the room. One by one, the beats fell silent, until eventually, only one remained.

Ours.

I stood amongst the bodies and listened to the steady thump inside our chest. Blood dripped from our claws, from the walls, from the ceiling. Flames crept across the room, devouring discarded cloaks and licking hungrily at the dead.

It’s truly over, the vessel whispered.

I surveyed the carnage. The people who had imprisoned us, hurt us, and used us. Dead. Every one of them.

I smiled. “We are free.”

I turned towards the door, ready to leave, when a sound stopped me. Footsteps. Two sets, hurriedly retreating through the stone corridors. Our lips peeled back from our teeth. I couldn’t allow a single survivor to escape. So I ran from the room, uncaring that our thunderous footsteps echoed through the cavernous halls.

Let them hear me coming.

Let them know their time was up.

A high-pitched squeal rang through the darkness. I followed it around one corner, then another, until I found my prey. The cowards who had fled the carnage. Who had slipped past me during a single moment of distraction.

Of course one of them was the summoner’s wife.

I hadn’t expected the other to be a child.

A young boy, no more than five, hid behind her skirts. Tiny hands clutched fistfuls of her cloak, his entire body trembling.

“Please.” My gaze snapped to the woman. Her grey eyes met ours. Pale and icy, just like her soul. “Please, let us go.”

Her voice trembled, betraying the terror beneath her plea. She reached behind herself and placed a hand against the boy, pulling him closer. “I have a son. He needs his mother.”

I sneered.

“You are not a mother,” I hissed. “You are a monster.”

I stepped forward, and she stumbled backwards, nearly knocking the child from his feet. “I-I’ll give you whatever you want. Bodies. As many as you need. Or money! I have plenty of money.”

“Your riches were bought with the blood of innocents,” I spat. “Why would I want your tainted gold?”

Panic twisted her features. Her once-neat blonde hair had fallen into disarray, the braid hanging over her shoulder coming loose. Blood stained the pale strands. The blood of the very people she had worshipped beside only moments before. Her eyes darted around the corridor, searching, calculating. Looking for something, anything, she could offer me. Then her hand closed around her son’s wrist, and she dragged him in front of her.

“His soul!” she cried, ignoring the boy’s whimper. “You can have his soul.”

Rage erupted through us, and a growl tore from our throat, so violent it shook our chest. She had offered us her own child. Not merely as a bargaining chip, but as a sacrifice.

“Mummy?” the boy whispered.

I lunged. But as the child lifted his head, I faltered. Our claw stopped inches from him, and wet, mismatched eyes stared up at us. One was almost colourless, the same icy shade as his mother’s. The other was warm and golden. Honey beneath sunlight.

His father’s eye.