Chapter Text
What does one experience when they face death?
The release of death is inviting, a promise of eternal rest. For humans, animals and hybrids, it is a natural process of life. Whether death arrives after someone's last desperate gasp of air, after someone reaches out a forlorn hand to fallen comrades and friends, or after someone has lived their years thoroughly and without regret, death is an inevitable stage of life. The final stage.
Yet, demons are immortal beings, untouchable by age and natural deterioration of their bodies. They will never feel their bodies weaken with the passing of centuries, nor will they ever worry about the future, for their time is unlimited. The only way for them to experience the emptiness of death is through their own demise. To be slain by anothe being.
Wemmbu had spent what felt like an eternity fighting against it, yet as his strength finally began to leave him, he found that he no longer had the desire to resist. Every breath became more difficult than the last, filling with the stench of ash, smoke and blood. The world around him had begun to blur, colours bleeding together beneath the fog clouding his vision. Out of pure instinct, his body kept fighting, returning to the same defensive stance that had been entrenched into him.
He could no longer feel the pain.
That was perhaps the strangest part of it all. After an entire lifetime knowing nothing but pain, its absence felt foreign. The raw and calloused skin of his hands, the burning in his chest and the countless wounds that littered his skin were slowly numbing.
For the better part of his life, Wemmbu had trained relentlessly until he couldn’t differentiate the night from day. Even if his mind and thoughts had become far too murky, his body remembered the centuries of training. The centuries of wishing to be stronger.
It was all in vain.
Wemmbu felt the side of his torso slam into the ground. A pained wince left his lips as he struggled to push himself up. But his body fell limp against the rocky surface. Somewhere he felt a burst of heat against his skin, though he could no longer tell what the source was. His fingers twitched weakly against the ground, to keep fighting, but for the first time in his entire life, Wemmbu truly had no energy left.
His hearing had always been sensitive, far exceeding both his friends and enemies. Yet the noises around him grew distant, as though he were sinking beneath deep water and the wind that had once howled around him was reduced to little more than a whisper.
A human, whose face he no longer remembered, had once told him that when someone dies, their last moments are spent with their lives flashing before them. But Wemmbu simply didn’t have that luxury. He had experienced far too much, lived for far too long for it to replay in his last moments before death. Instead, he was welcomed by the cold embrace of the void, the lack of anything.
Wemmbu tried to remember what had happened, why he had been fighting, who he had been fighting… who had he been fighting for?
He had no answer, he couldn't remember.
There was no fear of death, just a stillness that slowly consumed every remaining thought in his mind. Finally, his last breath left him. Carried away by the wind that had once carried him through countless battles.
✦
The demon did not know how long he remained there. Frozen against the cold earth. Until, somewhere far beyond the darkness, he heard something. Distant and slightly muffled, but still, Wemmbu could just barely distinguish against the silence of the void.
A child's cry.
The sound barely registered through the haze clouding his mind. He had been laying in an eternal empitness, that had embraced Wemmbu’s mind and body for Mojang knows how long. Yet in this void, Wemmbu stirred slightly. His sensitive ears twitched reflexively. But aside from that, his body lay absolutely still, the slight rising and falling of his chest was almost unnoticeable. Had anyone stumbled across him in this state, they might have assumed he was dead.
Wemmbu squeezed his eyes, his eyelashed bunching together and he tried to ignore the sound. Instinctively he shifted, attempting to stretch the stiffness from his aching body. His wings flexed behind him, or at least they tried to, meeting an unexpected resistance. Something hard was pressed directly against the smooth skin of his wings, preventing them from exntending. His tail was coiled underneath him and was surrounded by the same hard material.
Wemmbu’s brow furrowed, but still, the haziness and exhaustion prevented him from opening his eyes. He didn’t know how long he had been sleeping but for now, he just wanted to rest for a little longer. But as his thoughts gradually became more aware, a question burned at the back of his mind.
How was he alive? And where was he?
The steady beat of his heart was clear in his sensitive ears. Wemmbu was sure that at some point or another, the familiar rhythm had disappeared, a silence replacing it in its stead. He was curled up into a fetal position, his knees pressed into his chest… wait why was he resting like this?
And what was pressing against his body? It was hard and pressing uncomfortably against his shoulders, his wings, his tail and the curve of his horns. Slowly, the demon forced his eyes open.
Groggy and still slightly distant, golden eyes slowly adjusted to his surroundings. The glow of light enveloping him forced him to squint, but after a quick moment, Wemmbu’s eyes adjusted. His dark eyelashes fluttering open, only to be met with a visceral purple.
All around him were amethyst crystals.
For a long moment, Wemmbu stared up around him in awe, not completely understanding what he was seeing. But he could admit one thing. It was beautiful.
He had never seen such a violent purple.
From floor to ceiling and from wall to wall, there were violet gems everywhere, they were glowing, emitting a gentle light that pulsated regularly as if it were alive. The jagged edges of the crystal had pinned Wemmbu against the floor of the…cave? The demon was balled up in an impossibly tight space yet he didn’t particularly mind. Instead his gaze focused on the purple minerals. Wemmbu sat still watching the gems’ light wax and wane in a steady rhythm, mesmerised.
His sensitive ears could hear the steady rhythm of his heart beating within his chest as he continued watching the crystals. Yet the longer he stared at the amethyst, the more he noticed something unsettling about the way its violet glow brightened and dimmed around him.
It didn't seem random. Every pulse of light matched the beat in his chest almost perfectly, flaring brighter whenever his heart struck against his ribs before fading again a second later. Wemmbu’s brow furrowed as he watched it for several moments, trying to understand whether the crystals were somehow reacting to him or if his exhausted mind was simply making connections where there weren’t any.
Either way, one thing was becoming increasingly obvious, the amethyst had grown around him, filling every available space until his Wemmbu's body had been completely encased within it.
The demon shifted carefully, using what little room remained to reposition his hands beneath himself, pressing his palms firmly against the uneven floor. His elbows bent awkwardly against his sides as he pushed down, attempting to raise his upper body even a few inches, but the crystals surrounding his back and wings refused to give way. Jagged edges pressed into the smooth membranes of his folded wings while another cluster dug uncomfortably against his shoulder, forcing him to stop before he accidentally tore something. He tried again from a slightly different angle, twisting his torso and pulling one knee closer to his chest, but there was nowhere for his body to move. Every direction ended in solid amethyst.
The initial awe Wemmbu had felt upon seeing the crystals began to fade quickly.
He became painfully aware of every point where they touched him. Violet stone pressed against his arms, his torso and the curve of his horns, while his tail remained trapped beneath him with barely enough room to twitch. His wings were pinned tightly enough that he couldn’t properly stretch them, and even drawing a deeper breath seemed to make the space around his chest feel narrower. Wemmbu swallowed, forcing himself to breathe slowly through his nose, but the steady rhythm in his ears had already begun to quicken.
The crystals followed his heartbeat, their pulsing light quickening as Wemmbu began to panic. A sense of claustrophobia set in.
Wemmbu planted both palms against the floor again and pushed harder this time, ignoring the sharp pressure of crystal against his back as his muscles strained beneath the unfamiliar weight surrounding him. Nothing moved at first. His jaw tightened as he forced more strength into his arms, claws scraping against the stone beneath his hands while his shoulders pressed directly into the amethyst behind him. For one horrible second, the crystal remained completely unyielding.
Then something buckled behind him.
Wemmbu froze before immediately pushing again.
A second fracture travelled somewhere behind his shoulder, followed by another closer to the base of his wing. With a sudden surge of effort, he forced his body upwards, shoving against the crystals until several jagged pieces finally broke away from the surrounding mass and scattered into smaller shards around him. The pressure against his back released just enough for Wemmbu to drag himself upright, breathing considerably harder as loose fragments of amethyst slid from his shoulders and collected around his legs.
He let out a deep sigh of relief. His eyes closing briefly
What on earth?
Scattered across the back of Wemmbu’s hand was the same amethyst crystal, tinting his skin a slightly purple-pink.
He swore his skin was a cream-toned brown, scattered with scars and injuries from battle. Not this unnatural and pinkish colour and especially not covered in this foreign object. Wemmbu tried to brush off the sparkly fragments that off his skin but to his greatest dismay, it was embedded all over hands.
Wemmbu shot up to stand, forgetting that he was still trapped within this tiny cave, the horns that adorned his head hitting painfully against the ceiling. He let out a groan, rubbing his horn tentatively only to feel that it too was covered in the same jagged crystals.
His brought his hands back down in front of him, turning them over slowly. His golden eyes traced along each finger and claw. To his relief, the strange crystal had not completely swallowed them. His palms remained mostly bare, the familiar cream-toned brown of his skin only faintly tinted lilac. Wemmbu pressed his thumb into the centre of one palm, tracing along the familiar creases only to find the texture of his hand to be unusually smooth.
He had spent centuries training training and his palms should have been covered in war-torn skin and calluses. Yet when Wemmbu dragged a clawed finger over his palms, they were completely bare, like he had never fought or killed anything in his life.
His hands eventually moved towards his chest, searching for more of that same familiar skin. There were patches of it, though nowhere near as many as he had hoped. Amethyst stretched across his shoulders and most of his torso in uneven layers, leaving only the sides of his chest exposed between clusters of violet stone. His fingertips travelled lower towards his stomach and waist, only to meet the same rough surface there as well. Everywhere he touched seemed to reveal another section of himself that had been buried beneath crystal, and the longer he searched, the more unfamiliar his own body began to feel.
Wemmbu hesitated before finally lifting one hand towards his face, almost afraid of what his fingers might find. His claws remained carefully angled away as he traced along his cheek, then down the curve of his jaw, and a quiet breath of relief left him when he felt nothing but bare skin beneath his fingertips. Warm, familiar skin. At least his face had remained untouched, but the reassurance didn’t last particularly long when nearly everything below his neck had become something he barely recognised.
A soft texture brushed against his neck
Wemmbu reached over to touch the charms that hung around his nape, a breath of relief left his lips when he felt the familiar softness of feathers in between his fingertips. Around his neck hung a simple cord, the material worn and faded from years of use. A couple of pearl white feathers had been tightly bound along its length, dangling loosely over his chest.
It had been with him for far longer than most creatures would ever live, yet it still held strong. Somehow, the feathers had retained their brilliant white thruoghout the centuries, untouched by dirt, blood or the passage of time. He held them tightly, thumb brushing against the ivory white feathers that hung from it.
Wemmbu’s mind wandered for a brief moment as his hands continued to fidget with the soft plumage. He had been given this neckpiece long ago but honestly, he couldn’t remember by whom.
He didn't necessarily believe in any superstition but regardless, he had held onto the accessory, like a good-luck charm. And in this unlikely situation, Wemmbu grasped onto it for a sense of comfort.
Across his chest were torn scraps of white fabric across his torso, brutally slashed and singed at the edges. Still it hung onto his lean frame. Wemmbu paused, eventually opting to shrug the tattered cloth of his shoulders, discarding the fabric onto the floor of the cave. Whatever leggings he had been wearing had endured far better than the shirt, the material had worn with age but otherwise intact.
Then his hair caught his attention, pooling in a heap below him.
He had prided himself with taking the utmost care of his hair to an almost laughable degree. It used to reach the middle of his back when he stood up straight, decently impractical but still, he’d dedicate much of his time to gently tugging at knots. He would work through sections with water until you could run your hand through the strands without getting caught on anything. Even painstakingly braiding his hair before battle to minimise damage.
Though Wemmbu was still sitting due to the tight space, he could tell that his hair extended well past his waist. It was longer than he had ever remembered it being.
Not only that, his hair had always been jet black, blending into the night sky. Many other demons Wemmbu had interacted with had “faux” black as he would call it. From a distance it would appear to be a similar noir to his own but when light hit it in a particular way, you could see the dark brown undertone. Unlike Wemmbu’s hair. His was always a perfect shade of midnight regardless of how the light hit it.
But for some Mojang forsaken reason, his hair was almost an obsidian purple. It was still dark but Wemmbu couldn’t help but frown. He reached for his scalp, running a clawed finger through the strands only for hand to get stuck not even a quarter way down. He would have never let it get this tangled.
Wemmbu couldn’t ignore the question burning at the back of his mind anymore.
Truely, how long had it been?
✦
A muffled child’s sob from outside this cave broke his train of thought.
His pointed ears twitched again, focusing in on the sound. Exceptional hearing is one of the features of demons, specifically windborn demons. However, even considering this fact, Wemmbu’s hearing far exceeded the average wind demon.
He stilled to listen, his pointed ears twitching slightly. Despite being encased in what he presumed to be solid rock, there was a whistle of wind. Beyond that, a gentle rustling of leaves and among them… was someone crying. It was so quiet, even to Wemmbu. It sounded like they had their mouth covered to stifle the small sobs.
The sound tugged at something deep within him. In a cramped cave where even his own body was unfamiliar and foreign, he felt instinctualy urge to respond to the noise.
He had time. Time to figure out what had happened to him, but for now, Wemmbu’s attention was purely on the source of the noise.
The problem now was there was no opening to this cave. It was completely sealed from top to bottom. How did he even survive without any food or water? Whatever.
Still crouched, Wemmbu pressed the palms of his hands to different points on the ceiling and walls, feeling the vibrations of the outside world.
A previous mentor had ingrained a lesson in Wemmbu that had remained with him long after he had forgotten their face. The ability to perceive the world without relying on eyesight was one of the greatest skills a warrior could possess. The body reacted before the eyes did and eventually instinct would become faster than thought. Wemmbu had spent hours from dawn until dusk training under his mentor, his ears straining to hear the scurrying of rats, and the soles of his feet sensing the footsteps of ants.
A faded orange blindfold had been wrapped around his face, completely stripping him of his eyesight.
With a blindfold covering your eyes, you couldn't exactly tell the time of day, after all.
He had learned to navigate the world through his hearing and by feeling the faintest vibrations travelling through the ground. Eventually, he had become so accustomed to it that he could match the pace of his master, even blindfolded. At the time, Wemmbu had thought the skill would be invaluable. In reality, it had proved rather useless.
His body was built for the sky, for he belonged to it. What use was there for feeling vibrations through the ground when he was rarely on it to begin with.
Still, the years he had spent dedicating himself to the craft had left their mark. His body had learned to react before his mind could, and what had once required hours of concentration had eventually become instinct. And in a rare situation like this one, that old training finally proved useful.
He heard wind earlier. So if he was correct…
Ah, found it.
Wemmbu’s fingertips stilled against one particular section of stone directly to his left. The vibrations travelling through it were noticeably stronger here, the faint movement of wind and whatever lay beyond the cave reaching his palm with far more clarity than anywhere else he had tested. He shifted his hand a little higher, then lower, carefully feeling along the uneven surface until he was certain. The difference was small enough that anyone else probably wouldn’t have noticed it, but after years of training himself to recognise even the faintest movements through the ground, Wemmbu knew exactly what he was feeling.
This section was thinner.
Wemmbu drew his hand back and studied the wall for several seconds. Nothing about it looked particularly different from the rest of the cave, black and white stone disappearing beneath clusters of violet crystal, but he trusted his senses considerably more than his eyesight. If there was anywhere he could force his way through, it would be here.
He sucked in a deep breath before slowly curling his fingers into a fist. His claws pressed into the exposed skin of his palm while the amethyst embedded across the back of his hand shifted with the movement, several jagged pieces rising more prominently over his knuckles. Wemmbu turned his wrist slightly, examining them beneath the dim violet glow of the cave aroudn him. The crystals didn’t scrape or pull against his skin when he moved; if anything, they seemed to move with him, fitted so closely against his body that they felt less like something growing over him and more like a strange second layer of skin.
A rather convenient one, apparently.
Wemmbu flexed his fist once more. The amethyst across his knuckles formed a rough covering over the places that would take most of the impact, almost like a naturally formed hand guard. He still didn’t particularly appreciate waking up covered in the stuff, but perhaps it wasn’t entirely useless.
He adjusted himself as much as the cramped space allowed, shifting his knees beneath him and planting one hand against the floor for balance. There wasn’t enough room to properly draw his arm back, forcing Wemmbu to angle his shoulder and work with the little distance he had. He closed his eyes for a moment, taking another slow breath as he tried to judge how much strength would actually be necessary.
He had no idea how long he had been asleep. The lack of the rough texture of his hands were an indicator. He didn’t know whether his body had weakened during that time or whether the strange crystals had changed more than his appearance, but when Wemmbu tightened the muscles in his arm, he felt his old strength return to him.
That would have to be enough.
He drove his fist into the wall.
A dull impact echoed through the tiny chamber, pain travelling from his knuckles and up through his wrist before fading into his forearm. Wemmbu immediately drew his hand back, abosorbing the force that reverberating through his body and stared at the place he had struck.
A thin crack had appeared across the stone.
His ears lifted.
Wemmbu leaned closer, running his fingertips over the fracture before pressing gently against it. Tiny fragments crumbled beneath his touch and fell into his lap, followed by the faintest whisper of cool air brushing across his skin from the other side.
His golden eyes widened slightly.
There really was an outside.
With considerably more confidence, Wemmbu drew his fist back again and struck the same place. This time the stone gave way properly, several pieces breaking loose beneath the impact before collapsing inward around his arm. A small opening appeared where the wall had been, barely wider than two of his fingers, yet it was enough for a sudden stream of fresh air to slip into the cramped cave and brush across his face.
Wemmbu froze for a second simply to enjoy it.
After however long he had spent trapped inside the stale, enclosed space, the breeze felt almost unnaturally cold against his cheeks and bare skin. It carried unfamiliar scents with it as well, damp earth, vegetation and something faintly smoky from much further away, all of which immediately made the world beyond the rock feel far more real.
He looked down at his hand.
The exposed skin of his palm was untouched, and even the amethyst across his knuckles had barely chipped despite striking directly through stone. Wemmbu flexed his fingers experimentally before a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
Perhaps the crystals weren’t entirely terrible.
He hooked his claws into the opening and began pulling away whatever had already loosened, dragging chunks of dark stone and smaller amethyst shards into the cave before tossing them aside. The hole widened slowly, fresh air pouring through with every piece he removed, until moonlight finally began slipping between the cracks and painting thin pale streaks across the violet walls around him.
Wemmbu continued until the opening was finally large enough for his shoulders and folded wings to fit through. Only then did he stop, breathing slightly harder as he looked towards the first glimpse of the outside world he had seen since waking.
✦
Wemmbu slowly surveyed the landscape surrounding him, only then realising that the rocky ledge beneath his feet belonged to something far larger than an ordinary mountain. The steep slope continued upwards behind him, disappearing into a wide crater silhouetted against the night sky, while layers of hardened black stone stretched down towards the forest below.
A volcano.
The recognition stirred something faint at the back of his mind, a memory too distant to properly grasp but familiar enough that Wemmbu knew he had stood here before.
He had remembered the volcano being alive. Molten rock had once glowed between fractures in the mountainside, painting the surrounding stone in shades of orange and red while ash drifted constantly through the air. Heat had rolled from the crater strongly enough to distort the horizon, and even the ground beneath his feet had once carried a faint warmth from whatever burned deep below.
Now there was nothing. The crater stood completely silent,whatever fire and live the volcano possessed had disappeared a long time ago.
Wemmbu’s gaze travelled towards the land below, and the unfamiliarity only grew worse.
He had remembered this place being devastated, the surrounding earth torn apart by battle while fire had reduced entire sections of forest to scorched trunks and blackened branches. Yet the land stretching beneath him now was thick with greenery. Mature trees growing so densely around the base of the volcano that their canopies blended together beneath the moonlight. Forests like that did not appear overnight. Wemmbu brought two fingers to his temple, forcing himself to search through the fragments of memory that remained.
He... He had died here.
Who had he been fighting that night?
Curiously, the gentle crying that had initially woken Wemmbu had stopped. He tried focusing on the sounds around him once again, but he couldn’t hear anything this time. It was silent except for the lonely breeze.
Eventually, something caught his eye. Far off in the distance, barely noticeable against the night sky, was the rising of smoke. Wemmbu hummed, not sure whether to investigate or not. If it wasn’t for the occasional dot of light from below, from what he presumed to be fire, he wouldn’t have noticed it at all. It was a considerable distance away, far enough that Wemmbu couldn’t hear the roaring of flames. And in the sea of dark green trees, the fumes were almost insignificant. Still, the possibility that the sound of crying had come from somewhere near the fire was enough to pique his curiosity.
With a final glance towards the smoke, Wemmbu hopped off the rocky terrain of the volcano. He felt his hair lift up as he dropped down, the rushing of air against his face was so familiar. With a practiced unfurling of his wings, he made a soft landing against the branches of a sturdy looking tree, crouching comfortably. Wemmbu reached out a hand to steady himself against the trunk , his feet feeling the rough bark of the wood. The crystals covering his body made him feel heavier than what he was accustomed to yet his body seemed to compensate naturally, his tail draped against the branches to balance out his weight.
For a moment, he simply remained there, observing the forest below him. The trees were dense, their branches and leaves intertwining so tightly that the ground was barely visible in some places. Wemmbu's golden eyes continued to scan the forest until eventually, he noticed something.
His eyes narrowed and leaned forward slightly, his gaze travelling down towards the forest floor until he spotted a small trail of dark red against the greenery. It was faint, almost completely hidden beneath the leaves, but there was no mistaking it.
Still on the branch, Wemmbu dropped down into a crouch, his hands and feet clutching onto the branches while his hair and tail draped downwards towards the floor. Golden eyes fixed onto the small drops of blood. Eventually, his eyes settled on forest floor next to the crimson dots, a shape stood out to Wemmbu.
A small footprint marked into the ground.
Wemmbu traced his eyes, following the tiny footprints until he could see a trail under the glow of the moonlight.
Eventually, he began to move, following the trail before moving to the next tree, they seemed to be heading away from the rising smoke. Wemmbue didn't bother returning to the ground. His wings remained folded against his back as he travelled through the branches, using his tail to steady himself whenever he lost his footing. His ears still staying alert if the sounds of crying came back, but for now, there was only the gentle whisper of the wind.
Unfortunately, the years that Wemmbu had lay in the amethyst cavern had left its mark on his mind. He didn’t remember how to properly traverse the trees, silently cursing himself after getting his wings caught on another branch. He vaguely remembered jumping from the tops of trees silently and without any difficulty yet the more he focused on trying to perfect his leaps, the more sluggish he became. As if he were working against himself.
Wemmbu let out a frustrated sigh but continued nonetheless.
The trail continued deeper into the forest.
More blood appeared the further he followed, small droplets becoming slightly larger patches against the leaves. Whoever had left them had been injured badly enough to bleed, yet they were still moving. Wemmbu stopped on another branch, his head turning as he listened to the forest around him. Nothing. No footsteps and no crying beyond the gentle rustling of leaves.
He continued onwards.
The blood trail began the thicken, the footsteps seemed to fall closer together, as if the person had been stumbling and shuffling. Wemmbu followed it through several more trees, ducking and weaving as to not make too much noise before noticing something ahead. A small clearing had opened beneath the canopy, illuminated faintly by the moonlight that managed to slip through the gaps between the leaves.
And in the middle of that clearing, someone was lying against the forest floor.
Their back rested against the base of a large rock, knees drawn close while both hands were clasped tightly over their mouth and face, smothering every sound that escaped. Wemmbu stilled almost immediately, his attention settling completely on the small figure beneath him. From this distance, he could make out a head of yellow-gold hair catching faintly beneath the moonlight, the colour bright enough to stand out against the darker shades of the forest around them. Something about it felt strangely familiar, though Wemmbu couldn’t place why.
He remained hidden amongst the leaves for another moment before slowly moving further along the branch. His tail curled tightly around the wood for balance as he lowered himself into a crouch, keeping his wings folded close against his back while his golden eyes remained fixed on the figure below. The closer he moved, the more obvious it became that the person was young, far younger than Wemmbu had first assumed when he followed the trail of blood into the forest.
Eventually, he reached the end of the branch and lowered himself impossibly close against the bark, almost resembling a cat preparing to pounce as he judged the distance towards the neighbouring tree. It was only a short jump, one Wemmbu vaguely remembered being able to make without disturbing so much as a leaf, so he pushed off without hesitation and expected his body to follow the movement as naturally as it once had.
Instead, the branch beneath his landing groaned loudly.
The entire tree swayed beneath his unexpected weight, leaves trembling violently around him as smaller twigs cracked somewhere above. Wemmbu froze, claws digging into the bark while his tail immediately tightened around the branch to steady himself.
Below, the child’s head snapped upwards.
Their gazes met through the leaves, two pairs of golden eyes staring directly at one another beneath the moonlight; One belonging to a frightened young girl pressed against a rock, and the other to a demon perched silently in the trees.