8. Rukh

The forests have become strange and lonely to me.

“She had a particular scent…”

I try to remember it. It was enticing somehow… Sweet like berries but still bitter on the tongue.

I can seek her out whenever I want, and I have been watching her from afar. But as I tackle another dripir, eviscerating it in a more conventional way and savoring its meat and juices alike, I feel a strange longing I’ve never felt before.

And that feeling perplexes me.

I roam through the forest, shoveling into the ground with every impact of my claws. I need to fill myself up before I seek out a more satisfying meal.

The beasts have started to flee upon seeing me. I like to imagine that the creatures of the forest interact with each other in some meaningful way, letting each other know of potential dangers. The thought of a rodan chittering out a manifesto to its peers does amuse me.

Or perhaps they merely saw me devouring another creature and grew wise to my nature.

Either way, the chase helps ease some of the repetition. Every moment I spend bounding through the forest, teasing the animals with the chance of potential escape, is another moment my mind is otherwise occupied.

I lay out a neat pattern of carcasses in the middle of an unfamiliar grove, looking upon my work with satisfaction. The sigil isn’t functional by any means, but I like to think I saw it somewhere on an archaic structure.

In truth, I don’t know why I’ve been awakened, even if I’m grateful. The days are satisfactory to my senses, but it’s all become repetitive.

I wish somebody would clue me in on my purpose so that I’m not blindly following another directive. The souls around me all resonate with a particular darkness, but I don’t know what impact I’m having.

My senses heighten, and I realize I’m not alone. I hear nearby footsteps in the background, approaching me stealthily, but not nearly quietly enough.

The soul is not dark, but I’m never privy to the erratic natures of other beings. Clearly, there are many who would seek me out and judge me for my crimes, and they don’t all carry the darkness of old.

Crouching to my knees, I twist around, leaping toward my target, only to detect the sweet and bitter scent of Annette in mid-air.

But I’m far too late for correction. I knock her to the ground, near one of my bestial victims.

“Pleasant to see you, too, I suppose,” she says, grunting against my enormous weight.

Without hesitation, I lift myself off of her, extending a claw toward her for support.

She pushes herself up off the ground, refusing my hand.

“Your tone has certainly changed,” I growl. “What happened to condemning the infernal beast of the forest? Not here to vilify me again?”

She sighs. “Actually, I came to apologize.”

I stand at full attention, refusing to let myself be swayed by her appeal. I remember the words she reserved for me. Those feelings don’t simply dissolve after a good night’s sleep. To her, I’m an evil, wicked being, not fit for sympathy or mercy.

Though I’m beginning to enjoy her complicated nature, I’m not about to admit that her judgment of me is aggravating. I certainly won’t tell her that I want her approval or her permission, because the truth is that I don’t.

I am what I am. It’s no concern of mine if that horrifies her, even if it rattles something deep inside me when I think about it long enough. All I can do is not think about it and remind myself that this silly human’s opinion should mean nothing to me.

I cross my arms. “That’s interesting,” I say, unable to keep the smile from crossing my mouth.

She looks out at the line of animal corpses surrounding her. I can see her scrunching her nose, trying to keep from taking in the scent.

“Nice pile of corpses you have here,” she says, trying pointlessly to humor me.

It’s not as though I don’t enjoy her company. A part of me is glad to see her again. I just don’t always actively enjoy being hunted and scorned.

“Actually, it’s a sigil,” I say.

She purses her lips, moving around the animals. “Ah, I see,” she says. “Millen’s Third Purification Rites. Nice choice.”

I nod, unwilling to give praise to her seemingly endless knowledge of magical trivia.

“That’s… a lot of animals,” she says. “Do you eat them all?”

I smile. “My appetite is quite difficult to sate,” I reply. “Is there a problem with that?”

She chuckles nervously.

“No, I just worry you might wipe out the local animal population.”

“So why did you come to apologize?” I ask, not sure whether she was making a joke or a condemnation.

“Right.”

She looks out in the distance, away from the smell of rotting carcasses, before moving toward a tiphe log. I want to stay where I am, not be led toward a potential trap, before I realize that she couldn’t contain or weaken me if she tried.

“Not trying to trap me in another ring of sacred fire, are you?”

She seats herself on the log, and I stand tall above her.

“No.” She laughs. “I just thought I might get away from the smell if that’s okay.”

“I figured as much.”

“That’s actually why I came to apologize,” she finally replies. “I was a little quick to attack, possibly a little brash. And I’m sorry for that.”

“You’re sorry?”

She nods enthusiastically.

I take a moment to think.

“You don’t need to be,” I say.

She glances up at me in confusion. “I told you that I served the light. So why wouldn’t I apologize for attacking an innocent creature?”

In her eyes, I can see a naivety perfectly suited for her youth, but I can also see the true lack of ulterior motives. It’s refreshing in a way I’m not sure how to process yet.

She really came all this way to apologize to a demon. There’s something strangely amusing and twisted about that.

“You came all this way to apologize to me, and I reject your apology,” I say, unable to keep my composure at the disappointment on her face. “But do me a favor.”

Her ears perk up. “What’s that?”

“You came out here and attacked me because I was a demon. It caught me a bit off-guard, but it was principled.”

“And?”

I can feel the anger rising in her. There it is, the ferocity I’ve come to admire. I won’t tolerate this sheepish, weak version of her.

“When you feel or believe something, you stick to that. There’s too much cowardice in this realm. That cowardice creates delicious darkness.”

She mulls over my words, grabbing a nearby stick and making circles in the dirt.

I can see, with some satisfaction, that she’s actually drawing identical sigils to the one laid out before her. Only hers are more detailed and ornate than my own.

Perhaps I’m being too hard on her.

I reach out, laying a hand on her shoulder. I can feel her resisting the urge to shrug away even as the warmth of touching her travels up my arm. I want to lean in closer, and she wants me nowhere near. The incongruency of both our desires is not lost on me.

“Don’t get me wrong,” she says. “I’m still convinced you’re the one responsible for the deaths.”

I don’t move my claw, only holding firmer onto her shoulder.

“Oh?”

“The killings perfectly match everything I’ve seen from you,” she says, almost thinking aloud. “The victims were drained and ripped apart in brutal ways, unlike anything I’ve ever seen from a dark elf or a human.”

I look down at her, fully engaging her gaze, and I smile.

“You sure do like to talk,” I tell her.

She smiles in response, but I can sense that it betrays her deeper motivations.

“You’re awfully dodgy about it,” she says. “It would really ease my peace of mind if you’d just tell me. Are you killing the dark elves?”

“And why would I tell you?” I move my hand off of her shoulder and hang it at my side. “You seem pretty well convinced that I’ve done it. And, like I said, you should stick to your convictions.”

“If I stick to my convictions, then I might have to fight you again.”

I show my teeth in response. I don’t like being attacked unaware or having my meal interrupted, but the thought of sparring with her again does excite me for some reason. Not because I want to hurt her, but because I want to challenge her, I want to touch her, I want to dominate her in a way that is somehow entirely different from all the beings I dominate on a regular basis.

Maybe I don’t want to dominate her at all. I don’t want to defeat her, I realize, I just want her participation.

“If that’s what you must do, then please do it.”

She brings her fingers up to her chin, lost in thought, then shakes her head.

“I’m not going to do that.”

“And why not? If I’m a foul demon, then you, a witch who serves the light, must strike me down.”

She grins, taking a berry off of a nearby bushel. I sometimes use them in my toxins.

“I wouldn’t eat that if I were you,” I tell her.

But before I can react, she takes out a satchel and puts the berry in her bag before grabbing another.

“It’s not for eating.”

“Odd. I don’t sense any darkness in you, but here you are, putting poisonous berries in your rucksack.”

She pauses, still clutching another berry in her hand.

“You’ve taught me a valuable lesson, Rukh.”

“That you should strike me down rather than hide behind hypocrisies,” I ask.

She shakes her head. “No. That the beings of this realm aren’t always as they appear.”

I cross my arms. It’s such a remedial observation, suited less for a witch and more for a commoner.

“Care to explain?”

“I’m a witch, hiding from legions of elves and men alike, who want me dead for following inhuman practices.”

“Correct.”

“And you’re a demon, set on killing and massacring nearly everything in your path… but only when you believe they really deserve it.”

I can’t hide the glint of awareness that crosses my eye. I wonder if she notices it.

“Careful,” I say. “That sounds a bit like heresy.”

She laughs. “Heresy is for zealots. Do I look like a zealot to you?”

I look her up and down. “You looked a bit like one a couple of days ago, ‘witch of the light.’”

“Your victims were all slave owners and con men,” she says, pointedly dodging my tangents. “Even if you did kill all of them – and I have a hard time admitting this – I suppose I don’t disagree with you.”

I smile, walking back toward the circle of corpses. “Your theory has one hole in it, witch,” I growl.

“And what’s that?”

“None of these animals did anything to deserve their deaths.”

I try to walk away from her, suddenly growing uncomfortable with the camaraderie, but I can hear her footsteps behind me.

“Oh, please,” she says dismissively. “Everybody has to eat.”