The flight of the teron bird was an arduous one, through fearsome landscapes of desolate extinction and monster’s safe havens. Its journey of dead meat and bloody bones was to find a gleeful meal for its young ones. A peak of merciless eyes surveyed the pitiful land of the evil one itself as nature in the form of food chain master seeks the alliance of the teron bird. The bird’s smudged claws of earlier battles and equal meetings were the remnants of lesser prey. It craves the instinct of the natural flow to hunt and kill for survival. The home of this bird was surreal and unnerving to passerby. The lethal beaks which slurp many feeble lives crave for enlightenment instead of fate. The teron bird spotted a landing post on a nearby castle looming between crowded, ill-looking trees. It circled and overhead, blending into the mist. This place, a haven for creatures of devious intent stood apart from the land of the warriors of nobility. A voice clamored from a casement as the bird nestled and observed the sage from its resting perch.
“It is done, a rather simple task,” spoke Doomonster smugly. “The sorceress is in a conic prison, impossible to escape through any enchantment.”
“Good, news that I want to hear as well as my other associates,” replied a nameless voice from a faint mirror. “What do you want or require in return?”
“I want gold, all the gold in your kingdom. Every last one including the treasures among your people.”
“Gold,” cried the voice in bewilderment. “It’s a worthless metal but if that’s what you want you can have it.”
“I am pleased that you concur. I want it all, including the other kingdoms of 4th Lebos.”
“Now this is madness Imp King! I can’t persuade the other leaders to give you gold. The gathering of it will be an expensive and wasteful task that we don’t have…”
“You will or I will just let this wretched rebel go so she can alert the rest of her companions….”
“Relax now, let us not be haste with such a proposal,” bark the now anxious voice. “I was at fault to come to such a quick assumption. I will meet with the others; the metal is of no value to us anyways. An answer will be given to you in four days. Do we have a deal?”
“Sounds fine in words,” replied Doomonster in a scornful inflection. “I will wait but only for the time you disclosed.”
With that Doomonster disengaged and proceeded to the chambers where Mela was kept in chains. The wicked one stared down at a scarlet marble bed floating several feet off the floor. A gas-like shield surrounded the spell caster as she lay still, almost lifeless as shallow breaths escaped slowly from her curved lips. The demon admired the strong will of Mela, pondering on how to absorb her powers and hopefully tear down her spirit.
“Mela,” thought Doomonster privately. “Those fools don’t know the value they paid to have you but I do. The last of the ancient magic and of singular valor, you will tell me everything you know about your friends and their agenda.”
Doomonster strolled slowly towards a rotten wood cabinet which held a great deal of his control spells. He glanced menacingly in the direction of the fallen spell caster. Mela, a former affiliate of the Satitan Clan of the Eastern Isles and a proficient learner of Soro Magic, had long dark brown hair with an olive complexion. She was about 5’5” and very petite. Her face is taint-less but empathy never graces her expression. This was due to the works of the Satitan Clan that cast a spell on her after she killed Hela that stripped her of all emotions of usual people.
(excerpt from Avenging Knights Rebirth of Lost Honor Chapter Two)