7. Catandria

7

CATANDRIA

T he dungeon reeks of decay and despair. I follow closely behind Javan, my breath shallow and ragged. The sight of his imposing form—winged, armored in bone, and emanating raw power—terrifies me. But he's my savior all the same. The corridor narrows, leading us towards the exit, but the sounds of armored boots echo ahead.

“Stop!” I whisper. “They’re waiting for us.”

He glances back, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Good. I need a warm-up.”

I swallow hard, clutching the sword I took from a fallen guard. “I’m ready to fight. Even if it means dying here.”

“Dying?” He laughs, the sound dark and amused. “Little one, I’ll show you what power really means.”

As we step into the open, a squad of dark elf soldiers blocks our path. Their eyes widen at the sight of him, and then narrow with grim determination. They draw their weapons, moving to encircle us.

He flexes his fingers, bone armor clicking with a sinister melody. “Watch closely,” he mumbles, baring his sharp teeth.

He lunges forward, faster than any human could. His bone wing slashes through the air, cutting down two dark elves before they can even raise their swords. Blood sprays, painting the ground crimson. The scent of metal fills the air.

I can’t take my eyes off him. He moves with such grace, such deadly precision. One moment he’s twisting, the next he’s crushing a skull with his armored fist. The soldiers’ screams echo around us, but they don’t deter him. If anything, they seem to fuel him.

“More! Bring me more!” he roars, laughter bubbling up from his chest.

A soldier charges at me, sword aimed at my heart. I sidestep, plunging my knife into his side. He gasps, eyes wide with shock, before crumpling to the ground. My heart races, adrenaline surging through my veins. Every instinct screams at me to keep moving, to survive.

“Not bad, little one,” the demon calls out, his voice dripping with dark amusement as he decapitates another elf with a swift, effortless motion. Blood arcs through the air, adding to the chaos. “But keep up.” His eyes flicker towards me, a challenge sparking within their dark depths.

I nod, gripping my knife tighter. There’s no turning back now. I have to prove myself, not just to him, but to myself. Another dark elf lunges at me, and I meet him head-on, my blade finding its mark with a savage thrust.

After killing another dark elf, I follow him, my steps uncertain but driven by sheer determination. The barracks are a battlefield now, bodies strewn about, blood pooling beneath our feet. The smell of death is thick, cloying.

His power is intoxicating. Each swing of his wing, each crush of his fist, sends a thrill through me. I can’t help but admire his dominance, his absolute control over life and death.

“Stay close,” he orders, slashing through the last of the soldiers. “We’re not done yet.”

I nod, my grip on the knife tightening. “Lead the way.”

As we make our way out of the barracks, more soldiers rush towards us, but he's just relentless. His bone armor glistens with blood, his eyes alight with a dark joy. I follow, unable to look away, my heart pounding with a mix of fear and exhilaration.

“Remember this feeling,” he says, dispatching another foe. “This is what true power feels like.”

I nod, my breath coming in short gasps. “I’ll never forget.”

As another dark elf soldier tries to impale him with a sword, he grabs him by the head and lifts him up by the neck.

"Where's your general?" Javan asks, pressing his sharp nails into the dark elf's skin until blood seeps down in rivulets.

"I… he's… not… here…" The soldier's voice trembles, each word a struggle.

"Useless fool."

With that, Javan uses his other hand to rip the head clean off the dark elf. My breath hitches in my throat as I watch this unfold, but I feel no sympathy for the soldier.

No. He got exactly what he deserved.

Blood splashes against my skin, warm and metallic. The bodies of the dark elf soldiers lie scattered around us, their lifeless eyes staring into the void. My chest heaves, breath coming in ragged gasps, but I feel something else—something raw and powerful—surging within me.

I turn to Javan, his bone armor seeping with dark elf blood, his dark eyes alight with a savage joy. Without thinking, I grab him, pulling him down to my level, and kiss him. It’s not a gentle kiss; it’s torrid, fierce, filled with all the rage and longing that have been building inside me. He responds in kind, his lips and teeth demanding, claiming. We devour each other, reveling in the chaos around us.

Breaking the kiss, I press my forehead against his, feeling the heat of his breath mingling with mine. “I want to change. I want to be like you,” I whisper, my voice heavy with desperation.

He smirks, a dark glint in his eyes as he wipes a smear of blood from my cheek. “You think you’re ready for that kind of power?” His tone is taunting, challenging.

“I know I am,” I insist, my voice trembling but unwavering in its resolve. “I need it. I need to be free of this... this weakness. I can’t live like this anymore.”

He studies me for a moment, eyes narrowing. “There’s a ritual. It’s not for the faint of heart. It’s painful, and there’s no turning back. Once you complete it, you'll turn into a demon. You'll no longer be confined by the failures and weaknesses of your kind.”

“What do I need to do?” My voice is steady, despite the fear gnawing at the edges of my resolve. "I'm willing to do anything to achieve that."

His eyes crinkle with amusement as he stares down at me. "Little one… you're different from all the rest."