Paradox

"No, no please! Anything but that! I—"


Beldorl screamed as dull, white-hot metal cut into one of his wings, causing him to struggle and twitch violently with the sensation. Fire seared his nerves, boiled his blood, deadened his mind to all else around him, and even though he felt his tormentor withdraw the dagger, his thoughts were still laden with nothing but pain and the smell of his own blood. Eventually, the blazing of his nerves cooled, allowing thoughts outside of his agony surface. How long had he been here again? A week? Month? Year? Longer? He didn't know anymore. All he could remember was when he had been captured, and the face of the person who'd ordered this torture, all for the sake of a few words. Of course, the redhead knew, those words would be the knowledge needed to win the unending battle between his kin and these monsters, and like hell they were ever going to get it out of him.


The feeling of heated metal slicing right through tendon snatched Beldorl from his thoughts with a scream, his tired voice weaker than before with its nearly incessant use. Gods, make it stop! Please, make it stop! his mind screamed over and over again. His agony subisided once more, but only by so much as his right wing dangled painfully from its socket, bleeding profusely; the redhead could feel himself grow faint with the increasing loss of blood. His face paled as one of the wing's severed arteries emptied blood from his body in gruesome spurts, his orange eyes closing as death drew near, and he mentally exhaled in relief. At least now the pain is dull, even if I will die soon. . . .

Or so he thought. Just as the black hands of Death were about to claim him, Beldorl felt a pain where his wing still dangled, the agony racing him back into unwanted reality once more. Bones snapped and cracked, blood vessels popped, muscles swelled, and a sound almost like something being stitched together echoed in his ears. The feelings of primitive magic healing his various wounds, he realized quickly, was much more agonizing than having his wings clipped, and within hardly a second he'd passed out.

"You idiot!" A fearfully enraged voice filled the redhead's ears. In spite of the fact he was unconscious, it was only his physical body that was at all affected; his mind remained alert, picking up all that happened around him, though at the moment he remained unable to do anything. The new presence that had entered the chambers caught the eiryel's attention, but he allowed himself no hopes that this other demon would help him in anyway.

"You do realize that he needs to live if we are to learn anything at all from him!" snarled the demon. "This is an interrogation for a reason, not an execution, you worthless maggots! I'll be taking it from here on out. Now out, all of you!"

"Y-yessir, General Diruthan!" several raspy voices responded in near-unison. A chill of fear numbed the redhead's mind at the familiar name, and in a fraction of a moment his relief all but fled as fear took him. Surely . . . surely they must be referring to someone else? Someone other than that monster, perhaps someone who shared his name? Yes, that must be it. It had to be. There was no reason for such an arrogant beast to mingle in the filth of the torture chambers. . . .

A stinging slap bit into Beldorl's skin, causing his unconscious body to flinch in response to the strong blow. "Open your eyes already," the demon growled in his deep voice. "Or would you prefer I rip off your eyelids?"

Though afraid of what he might see, the redhead obediently opened his eyes, ignoring the hindering protests of his muscles as he struggled awake and tilted his head to look into his handler's eyes--no, eye. A single crimson orb glowered hatefully at him, while the other eye remained hidden beneath a fringe of greasy, blood-speckled black hair; the deep rut that crossed the width of the demon's ugly face indicated his right eye had been blinded by injury, an injury coutesy of Beldorl's own blade. The eiryel suppressed a shudder.

"Bloodwrath. . . ." the blaze-warrior muttered, a hint of fear lacing an unintentional undertone. The ebon grinned nastily, long fangs revealed in the gruesome twisting of his serpentine features. Beldorl attempted to suppress a shudder of fright, but in vain.

"And the infamous wielder of fire, Beldorl. Pleasure's all mine." The demon's grin twisted into an even nastier smirk at the sarcastic remark. "Be sure to give your family my regards."

"Don't you mention my family," the redhead spat, the words flying from him on a whim. Almost instantly he regretted the statement, half-expecting Diruthan to knock his teeth out as he tensed his muscles in dread. But when the ebon merely laughed at him, he relaxed once more in confusion.

The general's dry laughter quickly died down to silence, and the expression on his face promised nothing good as he stalked closer towards the redhead. As his nemesis approached him, the feeling of dread that bound Beldorl was slowly replaced by anger, and it was a damned good thing his powers were denied him at that moment. Just by the smirk on the demon's face, the Ember could tell what was going through his mind. He glared as Kim'ani knelt in front of him, jerking slightly as strong, weathered fingers grasped his chin.

"Want me to tell you how beautifully she screamed? How your little sister pleaded with me to let her go?" The demon smiled sweetly, the false expression adding even more nastiness to his words. "She was quite delightful towards the end, so cold and pale, still a virgin even in death, until--"

"SHUT UP, YOU SICK MONSTER!" Beldorl screamed. The bitter taste of rising bile burned the back of his throat as he glared into the ebon's sickeningly gleeful expression. It was tempting to just let his guts loose on the bastard, but the redhead hadn't eaten in over a week, so all he could really do was heave painfully as his keeper watched in amusement.

Kim'ani chuckled. "Frozens are the prettiest to kill. . . . Such pale skin, blood on a white rose. Her wings were even prettier."

The chains clutching Beldorl clamored painfully as he tried to lunge at the ebon, only to be jolted back with snapping resistance. Anger and disgust gnawed at his heart as he glared into Kim'ani's laughing expression, building steadily into a furious heat that seemed to engulf him. Without warning, flames burst from his body, an angry phoenix of power rushing towards Bloodwrath in revenge. The ember screamed in fury as he put every ounce of what remained of his energy into the blast, hoping it was enough to injure the demon.

But it wasn't. As the last of the flames dispersed, Kim'ani's skin was already healed and showed no outward signs of having been damaged at all, save for a small burn on his wrist that was already twisting itself anew. Beldorl gasped, chest heaving with heavy breaths from using so much of what remained his strength in that single, fruitless attack, pinpricks of black swimming in his sights. Oh, if only he could sleep and never, ever wake again, if only something would pinch him out of this nightmare, if only someone could tell him it was all just a horrid dream. . . .

No one was going to, though, and he knew it. Reality was an ugly beast that could not be slain, and now its fingers gripped the redhead's chin, forcing Beldorl to look once more into Kim'ani's twisted face. It took the eiryel a moment to realize he was crying.

"Do you want it to end?" the general cooed. "It must be terrifying, realizing you're going to die here, alone, with not a soul to help you." A rough hand tenderly gripped the base of Beldorl's yet undamaged wing, soft, gold-red feathers tickling his skin pleasantly. He could feel the muscle twitch and writhe slightly as his prey tensed. But instead of harming the delicate appendage, the demon gently caressed the beautiful wing almost soothingly, smoothing out the feathers with his claws while minding the sensitive skin underneath. "Just tell me what we want to know, and it'll all be over."

Beldorl trembled as Kim'ani continued to soothe his aching wing, realizing more than ever how much he just wanted to go home and forget all this ever happened. Perhaps Bloodwrath wasn't as bad as people made him out to be; he'd already fully healed Beldorl's right wing and was now massaging the left. Hell, he hadn't even really done anything to hurt him except slap him across the face. And words could always be disproved...

No! Beldorl scolded himself. This bastard's just as wicked as the rest of them--even more so! You've fought him in battle--you know what he is! I refuse to fall for his charade.

He'd never forget so long as he lived. The night had been long and cold, full of dread and tension as Beldorl and his troops approached the rural village of Malgion. It was a small and quiet place, seemingly unimportant, but its location made it a target of many previous battles with the Hellions. Located on the banks of the Vaerna, it was a frequent stopping point for tradesman and other travelers heading into the mountains, and though it never did any trade of its own, its inn made it a very prosperous place. Not only that, but it was the only point along the river that allowed for safe travel, with skilled mages who tamed the rough waters for a small fee and stone masons who constantly maintained the bridge every year. There were other cities by which to cross the river, but Malgion allowed for the quickest route into Hellion territory.

It had been quiet in the camp all night; not even the crickets chirped at this hour. Comforts such as fire had been forfeit for the sake of maintaining their cover, and though they were disguised quite well with the help of the earth and shadow eiryels that had been recruited, Beldorl felt something was amiss. No candles burned in the windows of the inn, no noise was heard from the city. It seemed almost . . . empty.

Before the band even knew what was happening, a group of Hellions leapt from the bushes on all sides with swords brandished, and in almost an instant nearly a quarter of the troops lay in their own blood. But in spite of the unexpected attack and now almost too few numbers, the rest of the eiryels attempted to fight back their centuries-old enemies, hacking, slashing, and stabbing back. Sparks flew as swords clashed, and soon magic was added to the mixture; many Hellions found themselves encased in icy tombs or scorched to death, others crushed or suffocated by the powers of earth and air. Magic had always been the eiryels greatest advantage against the Hellions, and victory was close at hand.

Or, at least, so it seemed, until two eiryels were cleaved almost in half in front of Beldorl's own eyes, another three next to them decayed by the dark touch of necromancy. A hulking silhouette stood where the five had just fallen, and in spite of the darkness, it didn't take much guesswork to know who stood there: Bloodwrath.

The reaminder of the troops backed away as they lost their nerve, and eventually some attempted to flee, only to be struck down by archers hidden within the city. As they fell one by one, a cold, mirthless laughter filled the air, mingling with the spray of blood as more were slaughtered. Oh, they had tried to fight back, they threw everything they had at the infamous general, but everything they did was for naught as Bloodwrath's wounds healed over and over; he didn't even seem remotely fazed by their attacks, let alone hurt or weakened. He merely continued to laugh at their pitiful attempts. Eventually, only Beldorl remained standing amidst the carnage. The sword in his hands shook violently with mixed feelings, but the most prominent of them was fear. He had lost, and not just merely the battle. This was the end of the line for him.

But no, it wasn't, as it had so unfortunately turned out. Looking back now, the redhead realized just how merciful it would have been to join his comrades in death that night, as opposed to this cruel torture.

The redhead glared boldly into Kim'ani's gaze. "It doesn't matter what you say or do to me--I will never tell you, NEVER!"

Sharp claws dug fiercely into his flesh as the ebon snarled, "That so? Well then, I suppose there's little else to do except finish what those idiots began..."

A tremble of fear raced over Beldorl's spine, but he voiced no protest, no desire to change his mind in spite of his coming fate. No matter what this monster threw at him he would endure it, he would not speak, he would not betray his people. Even if it meant death, so wish the gods he would take the knowledge the Hellions wanted to the grave.

Kim'ani watched the eiryel's face carefully, looking for even the slightest trace that Beldorl might change his mind as he began pressing his claws into the tender flesh. He had no use for daggers in such events as this; they took all the fun out of it. Besides, a blade left much too clean a cut, whereas just simply ripping away the appendage was much, much more painful; especially if it was done so slowly... The ebon grinned as he stood and circled around behind the helpless prisoner, letting his claws drag as he did so before finally stopping where he felt the flesh of the wing resist him most. Soft hisses of pain followed his path, breaking into whimpers before long as the tension increased.

Blood oozed over the ebon's fingers as he slowly worked his claws into the flesh and worked the wounds open with rough fingers. He could feel Beldorl biting back screams of pain as he continued to painfully tear through the muscle, occasionally pausing to allow the full agony of what he was doing sink into the eiryel's mind before continuing once more. It was . . . satisfying, he thought, to feel the blood of his enemy gush over his fingers, to hear his tears of pain, to hold the redhead's life in the very palm of his hands. There was just something so fulfilling to be had from causing so much pain and fear; it put a smile in the demon's thoughts.

Without warning, Kim'ani suddenly yanked the wing towards him, pulling with his hand a large hunk of flesh. Blood slipped down his arm and soaked Beldorl's wing, who now lay limp in his chains after such intense agony, agony too intense even to have been able to scream aloud. A sickening squelch resounded from the floor as the ebon carelessly tossed the piece of wing aside, and once again reached to rip off more of the delicate appendage. But before he could even touch it, the eiryel begged for him to stop.

"Please, have mercy!" Beldorl sobbed pathetically, shaking uncontrollably. "I'll--I'll tell you, just please, no more...."

"Change of heart, huh? Very well then, tell me where it is and I'll let you go."

"It--It's in Elusen, in the city of Oasaa. I d-don't know anything else about it other than that, I swear!" Beldorl trembled under the general's cold gaze. "I swear... I swear I know nothing else of it. Please... just let me go...."

A small smirk of triumph curled onto Kim'ani's features. "Good, good.... Well, a deal's a deal I suppose, if you'll excuse me momentarily...."

Talons clicked softly against the floor as the demon walked out, the loud and ominous creak of iron closing behind him as he shut the cell door, and what seemed an eternity passed before the ebon returned again; this time a beautiful woman was at his side.

She was abnormally tall for a woman, with fair hair and skin and a pretty face that probably had broken many hearts. A tight-fitting leather garment over her voluptuous form left little to the imagination, and amethyst eyes watched the eiryel with a haughty sort of scrutiny. To Beldorl, she seemed awfully thin for a woman, as well as out of place in such a cruel enviroment; she was far too human-like to be a Hellion, not even horns or a tail adorned her body like was typical of most demons. Perhaps, then, she was human . . . ? It was difficult to tell under the circumstances.

"This is him?" the blonde said in a deep, sultry voice. Kim'ani nodded.

"Yes. According to what he told me, what we're looking for lies in Oasaa somewhere."

"'Somewhere'? I hope you don't expect to uproot the city looking for this thing in a day."

"... No. But, I do believe that he may know more than he's letting on...."

"I swear, I've told you everything I know already!" Beldorl blurted out. Amethyst eyes turned coldly upon him before looking back to Kim'ani, but in that single split second, the redhead knew he had just jumped from the pan and into the fire.

The blonde seemed faintly irritated by now. "He's telling the truth, he has already told you all he knows. What makes you believe otherwise?"

"He could be under the influence of memory suppression," the ebon suggested. "Of course.... that is a theory easily tested, is it not?"

The eiryel's heart found itself sunken somewhere around his stomach at those words. Though he wasn't certain of what the two spoke of--it was not magic he was entirely familiar with--somehow part of him knew it was going to be far worse than if he had never spoken at all. Just how foolish was he?!

Please, Kaluna, have mercy on my soul. . . .

Beldorl jolted as a delicate hand touched his head; in his worry he hadn't even realized that the two beings before him had ceased speaking. A strange coolness met his skin where the woman's hand connected with his head, pleasant, tingling, and soothing. It was suddenly difficult to keep his eyes open, like a child being lulled into sleep, and without regard to his clenching gut, the redhead allowed his eyes to droop shut. Somewhere in the back of his thoughts he could hear a soft humming like music.

This isn't . . . so bad. . . . he thought. A sensation like floating filled his mind, and the hum--which had grown slightly louder--carried him through the blackness like a strongwilled dance partner. Another voice nagged him as he allowed himself to be carried away, trying to pull him back with sense and reason. Think of where you are! it screamed, but the hum overpowered it, a strange hissing accompanying the music as the voice was forced away.

The hum was slowly growing louder, and Beldorl cringed as the volume reached a point of discomfort, the hissing in the background also growing with it until any sensible melody was lost and only a chaotic cacophony remained. It hurt immensely in the eiryel's mind. He struggled desperately to awaken, heedless of his fears in the real world, but now a heavy weight crushed him, pinning him and holding him prisoner within his own self. And still the "music" grew louder, screeching and grating and blazing his every nerve as the weird weight squeezed him until he swore he was bleeding, until he swore he was going to go mad like this. He fought harder against the magic that ravished his mind as a creeping feeling like drowning came upon him, lashing out with whatever strength he had to no avail.

And then, nothing.