Prelude to Night

Midnightsscream- I personally like the look of daemon better then demon. But you’re right, Faustivult is very much Human. Unfortunately, I completely forgot to mention that in the first chapter. ^^; In fact, when I was reading your review, I was in the middle of working on the second chapter where I had already made mention of Faustivult’s Human blood a few times and became confused. Then I realized that I had made mention of Faustivult briefly at the beginning of the first chapter and felt floored by my mistake, having reread the first half of the chapter like twenty times. O.o Never do your typing at one in the morning. Which I frequently do.

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Groaning, Faustivult clutched his head before he glanced up and scowled at Daralis.

“You really ought to stop teasing him like that, showing up just as I’m about to take over. He makes quite a bit of racket when you do and I always find myself waking up with a terrible headache.”

Daralis gave his childhood friend an apologetic smile as he walked over and helped him to his feet.

“You’re not the one who has to listen to his raving all night.”

Faustivult grimaced before looking around the cave for their belongings.

“I don’t know how you do,” Faustivult said as he went a little further into the cave, retrieving their bags from within a cluster of rocks, “some of the thoughts he has about you make my stomach turn.”

Daralis ignored the comment and picked up his own bags before walking briskly out of the cave. He had been stunned, to say the least, to find out that his Human friend and the Daemon who had forcibly taken him were one in the same. Faustivult admitted that Fyren had been the reason why he had summoned Daralis to Laminui. He had meant to meet up with him there in order to beseech his help on the matter.

It had happened, Faustivult explained, after he had explored a small, hidden temple near the mountains bordering Blodtacan, homeland to the Daemons, in the efforts of finding more about the history of Aeden prior to the Great Purge. However, he claimed that his memory of the exploration was hazy, almost dream-like.

“All I know is that I awoke the next morning to an unfamiliar voice greeting me in my head and introducing himself as the Daemon Fyren!” Faustivult had laughed after his unsettling statement, saying that before that very, very, awkward morning with Daralis, Fyren hadn’t caused too much trouble. “I’d just like to know that my body stays where I put it when I fall asleep at night. And to have some privacy, you know?”

At the time, Daralis had expressed his feelings on the matter, loudly and violently. After calming down, Daralis explained that he didn’t feel comfortable traveling with Faustivult until he could find a way to protect himself at night. After a heated argument and another beating from Daralis, Faustivult agreed and Daralis had gone on ahead to Laminui to search the marketplaces while Faustivult took an alternate route. This particular incident was the fifth night since their reunion.

Waiting outside the entrance to the cave, Daralis looked out towards the bustling city only a couple of kilometers away. Due to Faustivult’s condition, they were unable to sleep within the confines of the city at night. The two of them were currently under an awkward sleeping routine where Faustivult would sleep in the morning while Daralis searched the town for information on the temple and, come mid-afternoon, vice versa. At the first sign of sunset, Faustivult would wake Daralis up and the two would set off towards the cave.

Daralis sighed as he waited for his friend to change clothes (from the sounds of Faustivult’s complaining, Fyren had made a mess of yet another pair of pants). As much as he cared for his Human friend, Faustivult had a forgetful nature that had already led to two close calls. The first time had been on the third night, when Faustivult had become too engrossed in his research at the library to notice that nightfall was approaching. Thankfully, he had remembered just in time to race back to the inn, wake Daralis up, and get a far enough distance away from Laminui. Unfortunately, Daralis hadn’t been given enough time to reach the cave and had spent the whole night hiding from Fyren in the forest, where applying the wrong amount of pressure to any one space would give enough sound to alert the Daemon to his presence.

The second time had been last night, where Faustivult had been too busy (Daralis gritted his teeth)flirting with the waitress downstairs. Fortunately, it had been raining hard enough that Daralis’s presence had gone undetected until he had reached the cave.

Emerging from the cave and noticing the angry expression on the Fay’s face, Faustivult guiltily walked over, his expression reminiscent to that of a scolded puppy.

“Look, mate, I know you’re upset about last night but what’s a poor fellow supposed to do when a pretty girl comes walking over with a charming smile and a sway in her hips? It would have been improper for a gentleman such as myself to ignore her.”

“You’re a gentleman now?”

“Oh, sod off!” The two settled into uncomfortable silence. Faustivult shifted nervously.

“You know, that young waitress was telling me about how she was looking for a couple of gents to escort her over the mountains.”

“Don’t tell me…”

“Well, I can’t just let her traverse those mountains by herself, now can I?”

“Yes, you very well can! Especially when there’s a Daemon currently residing in your body, waiting to jump the next poor soul he can find!”

“…Actually, he really just wants to jump your soul. He could care less about-”

“Faust.”

“Yes?”

Daralis hit him upside the head before continuing. “We’re not escorting a young girl over the mountains. It’s too close to Blodtacan and, despite what you say, Fyren still represents a threat to her safety.”

“Well, you see, about that.”

“What did you do?”

“I’ve already gone and told her that we’d be more than happy to-”

“Oh for the love of-”

“And I was planning on buying her an amulet like yours-”

“With what money!?”

“We should be all set to escort Miss Honey by the end of the week,” finished Faustivult happily.

Daralis scowled, “How is this…ridiculous fancy of yours going to help us find you a cure?”

“Well now, that’s not fair! This is a perfectly un-ridiculous fancy if you ask me. Miss Honey is a very pretty Boiijan girl, from Astvii of all places! You know what they say about girls from Astvii. Just turned eighteen I believe…”

As Faustivult continued to daydream about the Boiijan waitress, Daralis tried to find another way to convince his friend of the dangers.

“Tell me, what will your pretty Astvii waitress do when she finds out about Fyren?”

“Hm?” Faustivult tilted his head as he pondered the question. “I suppose I’ll have to warn her of the dangers of night travel. But I’d like to do that after I’ve bought the amulet, if you don’t mind.”

“I do mind,” Daralis gritted out. “Rather than thinking this through with your brain, (the most logical organ to think with, by the way) you seem to have decided to think with an organ noticeably farther south.”

“Look, just because you’ve had it…inside you…doesn’t give you right to mention it so casually…”


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Faustivult walked through the marketplaces, scanning the booths and businesses for possible work. He winced as an old man bumped into his shoulder. He’d arrived in Laminui with far more bruises then he’d had when he’d left the cave that morning, and the lumpy bed at the inn had not helped any.

It’s what you deserve for joking about the intimate night I had with my Daralis, Fyren grumbled in his mind. Faustivult tried to keep his facial expression impassive as he sent a wave of disapproval in Fyren’s…direction?

Faustivult pondered on this. Was it possible for your inner thoughts to have direction? Well, he thought, it’s toward Fyren and toward is technically a word describing direction, so yes. Direction. He felt Fyren’s amusement and what felt like the Daemon snickering at him before he remembered why he’d begun pondering the thought at all.

Initially after their joining, Fyren had been nothing more then the occasional annoying voice that interrupted his thoughts at the worst of times. Like that time he’d been flirting with the flower girl from Quiricah, Faustivult mused. Even for a Fay, she had been exceedingly beautiful. Unfortunately, the Daemon had chosen that exact moment to send Faustivult horribly graphic images of the flower girl’s dead body. Despite that, Faustivult thought, quickly banishing the memory of a particularly twisted image, the most annoying thing he had come to expect from the Daemon was that he would wander all night, leaving Faustivult’s body in a completely different place than where he’d gone to sleep.

That had all changed the morning he’d woken up to find himself half naked and sticky, kneeling in front of an even more naked, sticky, and (Faustivult grimaced internally) bloody Daralis. Now whenever Fyren pestered him, it had to do with Daralis. I should never have sent that letter, he thought regretfully.

Faustivult winced as another gentleman bumped into him. Fyren aside, the fact that his body had slept with his best friend-his male childhood companion-added a whole other level of awkwardness to their relationship. Faustivult knew that there were men out their that did that sort of thing, but he preferred the soft, pliable body of a female to the hard, unyielding body of man. Faustivult paused. That’s all well and good for Humans, he thought, but what are the Fay beliefs on sodomy? Guiltily, he continued to peruse the market. As awkward as it was for Faustivult, it must be at least ten times worse for Daralis.

After an hour of searching, Faustivult managed to find a part-time job at the local blacksmith that he was able to complete in the afternoon. While Daralis thought that the expedition with the lovely Miss Honey was going to be a waste of time, Faustivult had yet to mention that the waitress had been planning on traveling to a relatively old temple. He was hoping that its close proximity to the Blodtacan borders meant that he would be able to find some answers there.

You won’t be able to get rid of me so easily, the Daemon whispered.


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Daralis grumbled as he opened the door to his room, the knock having woke him up. Outside stood a young girl in a waitress uniform, her dark skin and hair reminiscent of those from Boiij. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Daralis stared at the girl blearily.

“I take it you’re the infamous Miss Honey I keep hearing about?”

Her ponytail bounced as she nodded cheerfully, “Yup! Mr. Faustivult seemed awfully worried yesterday when he didn’t wake you up in time, so I figured I’d do him a favor.”

Checking the sky through the window and noticing that the sun was indeed descending, the Fay replied casually, “Because we’re going to be doing you a favor, right?”

“That’s right!”

Frowning, he turned back to Honey. “You wouldn’t happen to know where Faustivult is, would you?”

Honey shook her head, “No, though Mr. Faustivult did mention something about finding work. Tell me, why don't you two sleep at night?”

Daralis replied sarcastically as he made his way down the hall, “I‘m afraid that‘s a question for Mr. Faustivult to answer.” Taking on a more somber tone, he turned and said, “I will let you know, however, that traveling with us is dangerous and I don’t entirely approve of it. Unfortunately, my friend has yet to heed my warnings. I hope you will at least take this into consideration before committing yourself to the venture.”

Honey nodded and watched from the top of the stairs as Daralis briskly walked through the exit, his dark green robes billowing around him. As soon as he had departed, her cheery façade fell and her expression became sorrowful.

“And I’m afraid, Mr. Daralis, that Fyren isn’t the only thing you’ll have to worry about in the future.”

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“Faustivult was worried about you.”

Fyren’s eyes searched the cave as they had every night for the past week. Although he couldn’t physically sense the half-Fay, he instinctively knew that Daralis was there. He also knew that Daralis was listening-watching, he thought with a shudder,-and waiting. Fyren began his ritual pacing as he started confiding to the invisible Daralis. A part of him hoped that he would somehow run across Daralis in his prowling, another part hoped to unnerve Daralis with his words and force his beautiful Fay to make a sound, any sound, that would reveal his location in the dark cave.

“He thinks the most inane things sometimes. When you weren’t at the inn, he had seriously considered the idea that I had taken over-in broad daylight-and taken you away to some secret, Daemon hideout I have and locked you away in some strange, sex dungeon he came up with. Although,” he licked his lips, “that doesn’t sound like a half-bad idea. The taking you and locking you away bit. His idea of a “sex dungeon” was highly unimaginative.”

Turn. “He also spent an innocuous amount of time trying to decide whether thought had direction. I’m beginning to wonder why you prefer that imbecile over me.” Fyren’s voice took on a rough edge. He took a deep breath before continuing.

You won’t succeed, the pessimistic side of him whispered. Funny, he thought, it sounded a lot like the Human. Checking once more to make sure Faustivult was asleep, Fyren turned on his heel and resumed pacing. You won’t succeed, it whispered again, just like you haven’t succeeded these past couple nights. The only reason you were able to even taste Daralis that first night was because you had caught him off guard, trapped him, drugged him-

No! He pushed the thoughts down into a dark, deep corner of his mind. Daralis had to-hadtohadtohadto-have felt the connection. It was fate, he thought, that brought Daralis into my arms. Their paths were destined to have crossed. Crossed, yes, the voice hissed, but are they meant to be intertwined?

Throughout Fyren’s inner struggle, he had vocalized the thoughts he’d had of Daralis all day. Thoughts of tasting his essence, of making the Fay scream himself hoarse, of pounding into his body for all eternity.

Fyren stopped in the spot he had seen Daralis appear that morning. What a sadistic creature my Fay is, he mused, to deny me for hours as I yearn for him and to offer me single moments, mere glimpses, of his tortuous body as our game comes to a close. The Daemon was stilling listing off his fantasies as the night wore on.

“Do you dream of me, of our encounter in the rain? I do. And, oh, what a dream it is.”

He slid down to sit on the spot he’d seen Daralis, his hand lightly palming himself.

“You know, I remember a time when my thoughts weren’t consumed by the Thirst. By you.”

He palmed himself a little harder then let up.

“It all seems so dull compared to what I am now. Everything seems so…clear. It’s as if I finally understand my purpose.”

“You existed before Faustivult?”

Fyren started and moaned, his hand having come down harder on the last stroke then he’d meant to. Although he had heard Daralis, the Fay had made sure to have the sound echo throughout the small cave so that he wouldn’t be able to pinpoint him. The Daemon found he wasn’t concerned though. This was the most first-hand contact he’d had with Daralis since that night in the rain.

“Yes. This half-existence is punishment.”

Purposefully making the answer vague, he held his breath and waited, hoping that Daralis’s curiosity would force him to continue the conversation.

“Punishment for what?”

Again, Daralis’s voice echoed and Fyren reached inside to get a better grasp on his swollen length. The sound of the Fay’s voice was making the Thirst unbearable.

“Punishment for…ohhh Daralis…the Thirst…punishment for the Thirst…”

He continued to pump himself, trying to keep his harsh breathing quiet so he could hear Daralis’s response.
“Why would they punish you for the Thirst?”

Fyren gasped and let out a long moan as his thumb ran over the head of his leaking cock.

“Slaughtered…thousands….destroyed…several races…Dragons-Daralis!”

He was so close. Thank whatever deity had caused Daralis to respond to him, he thought as his pace picked up.

“You were one of the Daemons from the Great Purge.”

Daralis was close. Closer than he had been. The last sentence hadn’t been a question, but a realization. But Fyren couldn’t be bothered with it. His hips bucked into his hand erratically as his orgasm got closer. Like Daralis, Fyren thought dimly. His voice had become an unending mix of pleas and moans.

“So close, Daralis, my Daralis, pretty Daralis.”

Suddenly Fyren could feel the heat of Daralis’s invisible body over his as a soft hand joined his own. The Daemon screamed as a warm mouth covered his own, his orgasm ripping through his body and soiling another pair of Faustivult’s pants. As Fyren basked in the afterglow, he felt a hand cover his forehead and heard a faint murmur before his eyes became too heavy and he began to drift off.

“Sleep.”