Chapter Text
That day, the glorious capital of the empire was laid to waste beneath trails of fire and smoke; the volcano struck with full fury the city that harbored something belonging to it.
Houses reduced to rubble, streets burning along with the people in them. Volcanic beasts feasted on those who fell behind as they fled the inferno. The city's forces could neither fight pure fire nor stand against the demonic thralls summoned from beyond.
Infernal Sin, crowned demonic lord of the volcano, watched the city fall from a distance. With subtle gestures and murmured words he called down blazing projectiles that swept everything in their path, unmoved by the suffering at his feet. He was merely clearing the ground for when he would come to claim what was rightfully his.
The only building left standing, the royal seat, rose at the heart of the city. Days before, within those walls, there had been celebrations over the discovery of a mysterious creature found during a raid into the cursed lands known as the Abyss. The explorers had brought back a cage draped in fireproof cloth. It shook and snarled violently, and no one had dared lift the covering, but everything the king needed to know had already been said. Good news spread quickly, and a festive air settled over the city. Unaware of what was coming, a pair of burning eyes lurked in the corners of the throne room, watching and listening to everything.
Back in the present, Sin walked at ease through the charred streets, a small retinue trailing behind him. Creatures were still feasting on the dead, and distant screams or collapsing buildings broke the silence from time to time. They reached the palace, and once inside, Sin sent his spy-eyes to find the cage. Finding nothing in the main building, he made his way to the underground level, a place reserved for storage, a prison block, and the torture chambers beyond it. As they moved through the corridors, his servants finished off anyone who had taken refuge in the palace hoping to escape the rain of fire. As they neared the prison doors, a quiet irritation mingled with indignation began to rise in Sin. There, in the chamber adjoining the torture rooms, sat the covered cage. It shook violently, and the growls and sounds coming from within grew stronger with every step he took closer. He gestured, and the retinue held back at the entrance to the chamber.
Sin extended a clawed hand and set a small patch of the supposedly fireproof cloth alight. Through the hole, no larger than a handprint, seeped the faint light that radiated from him, just enough to make out a figure bound tightly in chains: one around the neck, connecting to the hands cuffed behind the back. Eyes glowing faintly in shades of yellow and orange, matching the burning eye behind Sin's beaked mask. What he saw did not please him.
What lay inside were the remnants of a wound that should have been fatal. An integral part of himself that had been torn away, one that yearned for his flesh just as his own body yearned for it in return. This fragment of his being had its own consciousness and an independent body shaped by its demonic bloodline. The Lost Soul, the creature that the dark arts themselves had cast out and abandoned in the no-man's-land known as the Abyss. Now pitiful, weakened, and injured, it flew into a frenzy at Sin's presence, the bond tying them together pulling tighter than ever, clawing at its flesh and dragging its mind toward madness from the conflict raging within.
The prisoner was restless, frightened, terrified, even, by the overwhelming intensity of a feeling that had haunted him for as long as he could remember. Sin burned away the rest of the cloth. The prisoner was now fully visible: a young man in his mid-to-late twenties, dressed in worn clothes likely stolen from travelers, his feathered body gaunt and bruised, hair disheveled. Behind him, two wings black as night folded against his back, trembling erratically despite his efforts to keep them still. One was badly hurt, feathers scorched, the joint dislocated, almost certainly the work of the humans who had captured him. The prisoner pressed himself into the farthest corner from the intruder, baring his teeth, clawing at his restraints, torn between making himself as small as possible and trying to look threatening. He was managing neither.
What the chained creature saw, however, told a very different story. A towering figure, nearly three meters tall, stood before him, imposing, broad, and powerful. Two pairs of flaming horns crowned Sin's head; together with his bony tail and jeweled claws, they left no doubt as to the demonic nature of the monarch. Heavy, lavish robes adorned with hundreds of priceless gems, beautiful, yet every bit a war garment. The extravagance said it all: their wearer had no need for practical clothing when it came to spilling blood. Sin's face was hidden behind his mask, but the curl of displeasure at his mouth was unmistakable.
The thought of ending the miserable creature's life crossed Sin's mind in a flash. Nothing bound to his own being could be so weak and wretched, but exercising considerable self-restraint, and uncertain of what might happen were it to die, he pushed the impulse aside.
He grabbed the bars of the cage and melted them at the touch, then gestured to dissolve the ends of the chains holding Goetia inside. Finding himself free, Goetia hesitated for a split second before fight-or-flight took over: he launched himself forward, claws out, ready to strike.
"Still."
One word was enough to shatter Goetia's composure. He collapsed to the ground, writhing in agony, his body convulsing as he fought with everything he had to resist the force bearing down on him. The pain and discomfort he had felt before surged to a brutal new pitch; he began to gasp and whimper, fingers scraping at the floor.
A half-smile crossed Sin's face, satisfied, for the first time, by this creature that had done nothing but disappoint him. Even so, he picked up a faint turbulence through the bond between them: overwhelming for the weakened prisoner, but a dull hum to Sin, who held the dominant end of the connection.
He didn't wait for Goetia to recover before heading toward the exit. "Get up and follow me. We've wasted enough time."
A jolt of pain shot through the prisoner's body as he was forced to his feet against his will, dragged upright from where he had been lying at Sin's feet. Sin's steady, purposeful stride set the pace for the prisoner's uneven, stumbling gait behind him. Whenever he fell too far back, Sin pulled the bond taut like a leash to make him keep up.
Hatred for Sin was growing fast in the captive. Bitter words spilled from his lips in a jumble of languages, clumsily pronounced. "Bastard…"
Sin heard it perfectly well, his senses left nothing to miss, but let it go in favor of getting out of this wretched city as quickly as possible. He simply flicked his wrist and pulled the bond tighter to quicken the pace.
Outside the royal castle, Mystic Flame was waiting. "My lord, did you find it?" the witch asked.
Sin cast a brief glance toward Goetia to make him known. "Considerably more disappointing than I expected. Though given that he was captured by humans, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised."
The captive didn't fully follow the words, but he caught humans and the contempt in the tone. He wanted to be furious, but a gnawing, anxious feeling beat anger to the punch. Faint fluctuations rippled toward the demon through their connection, and he closed his fist, tightening his hold.
The witch gave a small nod and stepped aside, opening a portal that would carry them back to the volcanic temple.