Origin, p.1
Origin, page 1
ORIGIN
Land of the Elementals
Book Three
AARON OSTER
For my father. Thank you for helping me move all my stuff. I couldn’t have done it without you!
Prologue
Abyss was the very lowest of the Lower Realms. It was a place where only the most powerful of Demons dared to enter, and the place that the Lords of the Lower Realms called home. Shelderoth was not one of these Lords, nor was he a powerful Demon. No, Shelderoth was none of those, but rather, a Crimson-Ash Elemental, the very lowest in the chain of power that dominated the Lower-Realms.
Yet, somehow, through a series of extremely unfortunate circumstances, Shelderoth – a lowly Elemental – now found himself outside the doors of the Black Spire, the castle of the Demon Lord Krios.
The small Elemental had only been down here for about a minute, and already he could feel the extreme heat of this place breaking down his underwhelming form. Shelderoth, like most Elementals, was barely a foot and a half tall.
He stood before the massive set of doors, his entire body trembling despite the intense heat. He had been sent down here after seeing the Mezzo-Demon Vykamor, who hadn’t wanted to travel all the way here and risk the wrath of the Demon Lords.
All he had to do was report the sighting of the Origin in the Mortal Realm known as Laedrin. A human possessing the Origin was a clear violation of the Accords signed between the Upper and Lower Realms, and as a denizen of the Lower Realms, it was his duty to report such a sighting. However, when Shelderoth had originally taken this news to Lord Nilegard – who was a Lesser-Demon, not an actual Lord – he’d been expecting some sort of reward.
Shelderoth had been sure that Nilegard would want to deliver this message to the Demon Lords himself and claim whatever rewards they could bestow upon him. Instead, Nilegard had sent him down to Dunn, to report this to Vykamor. That had been terrifying enough as it was, but Shelderoth’s fate had been sealed when even she had refused.
Now he stood there, trembling before the massive castle of a true Demon Lord and trying to work up the nerve to knock. There were no guards outside the castle. Why would there be, when no one would even dare to approach? Yet, here he was, an Elemental, the weakest of the weak, about to try and gain an audience with a Lord.
Had he had the option, Shelderoth would simply have waited there for eternity, trying to work up the nerve. But his constitution wasn’t nearly robust enough to survive in the blistering heat of Abyss. He had maybe ten minutes before his body fell apart if he wasn’t let inside, and ultimately, that was what decided it for him.
Extending a shaking hand, Shelderoth rapped gently on the hundred-foot tall door. He hadn’t really been expecting the knock to even make so much as a sound. That was why, when a booming echo sounded from within, he jumped into the air, his tiny wings fluttering to keep him aloft as he prepared to flee. Before he could manage his escape, the doors swung open, not making so much as a single sound despite their massive size.
There, framed in the doorway and standing some fifty feet tall, was the Demon Lord in question. Krios had to be the single-most terrifying entity Shelderoth had ever seen. His skin was such a dark red color that it seemed almost black. Rippling muscle flowed over his frame, outlining bulging pectoral and abdominal muscles. He had massive arms and legs, and gigantic, pinioned bat-like wings. A pair of shining golden horns protruded from his scalp, and a thick, muscled tail twitched behind his back.
“How unexpected,” the Demon Lord said, his deep voice all but booming in the deafening silence.
Shelderoth’s body froze midair – literally – as the Lord’s slitted golden eyes fixed upon him.
“Tell me, little bug. What are you doing down here?”
Shelderoth, who’d had his body pinned in place by Krios’s immense power, suddenly found himself able to speak, though the rest of his body remained frozen.
“I…I…I c-come b-bearing a m-message from Vykamor, M-Mezzo Demon of D-Dunn,” Shelderoth said, stammering and stuttering so badly that he was afraid the Demon Lord might kill him for his insolence.
“Really? Vykamor sends me an Elemental messenger and expects that I would grant them an audience? I’m…insulted,” the Demon Lord said, his golden eyes narrowing.
Shelderoth didn’t think it was possible to feel any more terror than he had been when Krios had appeared. However, at the sight of his obvious displeasure, Shelderoth felt a new level of terror, one that he had not thought existed.
“P-Please, my L-Lord,” Shelderoth stammered, still unable to move. “I am only a l-lowly messenger. Vykamor-”
“Silence!” Krios roared, his voice so powerful that Shelderoth found it difficult to keep his form from being blown apart.
“Do you think to speak on behalf of a Mezzo Demon bug?”
“N-Not at all, m-my lord,” Shelderoth said, wondering if he might actually start crying in terror, something which he hadn’t done in thousands of years.
Krios seemed to contemplate that for a moment, stroking his pointed chin with the tips of his massive and wickedly clawed fingers.
“You are fortunate, bug,” Krios said after a few long moments. “You have caught me in an affable mood. So, I will allow you to speak. I do not think I need to emphasize what will happen, should your news displease me.”
Shelderoth swallowed past the lump in his throat, knowing very well that the news he had to deliver would not please the all-powerful Demon Lord. Still, he was here, and if he were to lie, Krios would be able to tell immediately and would likely obliterate him on the spot. It was better to just tell him the truth and hope he was the merciful type. Well, as merciful as a Demon Lord could be, anyway.
In a stammering and terrified squeak of a voice, Shelderoth told him all about what he’d seen — a human in one of the Mortal Realms who was in possession of the Origin. He also told him about how he had failed to kill him before his time ran out. Krios, thankfully, simply listened the entire time, his expression impassive. Shelderoth might have taken this as a good sign, if not for the fact that he was still trapped mid-air and could do nothing more than talk.
“…and then Vykamor sent me down here to notify you, my lord,” Shelderoth finished.
His story was greeted with complete silence, the Demon Lord’s eyes practically boring into his soul, as though he were looking for something there. It was obvious he’d told the truth, as no one would dare lie to someone who could read those as easily as he could see the ever-present fires of Abyss. But just because he’d told the truth, didn’t mean Krios wouldn’t destroy him. The news that the Accords had been broken was most definitely displeasing, and in the Lower Realms, the messenger was often the one who carried the brunt of the Demon Lords’ displeasure.
That was probably why he’d been sent here in the first place, as a sacrificial pawn. Despite his precarious situation, Shelderoth felt a small prickle of anger at that. Elementals were always being stepped on down here. They were always at the bottom, and so few ever advanced up the ladder, that it was almost laughable. Every other demonic being in the Lower Realms at least had the option and resources available for themselves.
If they put in the work to accumulate enough strength, they would eventually grow. There was a limit to how much power they could hope to gain, of course, but they could at least move past their humbler origins. Elementals, on the other hand, needed a more powerful Demon to give them a boost through that initial wall for them to become one of the Dufinity. From there, it was all up to the Elemental.
If memory served correctly, the last Elemental to join the ranks of the Dufinity had been well over a millennium ago, and even by the standards of the Demons, that was quite a long time. Even as he stood there, frozen in midair as the Demon contemplated his words, Shelderoth cursed their very existence. There had to be something better out there for his race, or a place they could call their own. They needed some sort of land just for the downtrodden Elementals.
“While your news is hardly what one would normally call good, I will allow you to live,” Krios said after nearly an hour of contemplation. “The Accords are broken, which gives us room to act in self-defense. The Heavenly races have been becoming big-headed as of late, and it will bring the Lords of Abyss great joy to see them brought to heel.”
Before Shelderoth could sigh in relief, the Demon Lord’s next words drove all warm feelings far from his mind.
“As for you, bug. You will remain here as my guest. I have a very special mission for you. One in which you will not fail.”
The Demon Lord turned then, heading back into his massive palace, and Shelderoth, still unable to so much as move, was dragged in along behind him, silently cursing at his horrible luck and the general mistreatment of his race as a whole.
***
Zir, former Cofounder of the Defiants and new King of the elves, sat in his office, watching the small purple-tinged portal expanding from a pinprick to the size of a small mirror. Across him sat Sylvester, lounging back in an oversized chair, with the creature wearing the face of Nina lounging in his lap.
She looked oddly self-satisfied, both legs thrown over one of the armrests, and her back half turned so that she could face him. She lightly played with his hair as she whispered things into one of his long pointed ears. Sylvester, on the other hand, was completely unreadable. His expression was blank, and his eyes stared straight ahead, locked on the soon-to-be-filled portal.
Zir had no idea why an Infiltrator would attach itself to someone like Sylvester. They were supposed to be agents of the King
Helpful as they’d been in overthrowing the kingdom, they were now starting to be too much trouble, and when assets became a liability, those assets needed to be cut loose.
Nina shifted slightly, her enlarged breasts straining against the fabric of the too-tight tunic and pressing against Sylvester’s arm as she laughed at something he said. The old Nina, the one Zir had heard described from his co-conspirators, had been rather plain looking, but this girl was getting close to rivaling the beauty of his adopted niece, Kya.
Her once plain brown eyes now shone a bright amber, and her once flat figure was now curved in a very pleasing way. Her facial features were sharper and more defined, and her skin was perfectly clear and pale. Had Zir not been completely asexual, he might have even appreciated the way she looked. As it was now, all he saw was a threat. A threat that needed to be handled very carefully.
Sylvester had taken his side and calmed the people, and despite all his new power, Zir needed them to remain calm. If the elves began to riot again, he’d be forced to kill more of them, and he needed them all to be alive for the months ahead. He had big plans, and he’d need an even bigger army for them to work.
Zir was snapped from his thoughts as a figure flashed into view on the other side of the portal — or rather, a small part of the figure did. In truth, all he could really see was a massive golden eye.
“You wanted to speak with me?” Zir asked, being careful to keep his voice respectful.
As much as he loathed working with Demons, it was only thanks to them that he’d managed to gain the power needed to overthrow his brother and take the Goldenleaf Forest for himself.
“Yes, mortal,” said the Demon’s sibilant female voice, practically hissing into the room. “I wish to hear how things are progressing.”
Zir nodded, having expected that, and began his report. For some reason, this Demon was less than patient, a trait that he found odd, due to their nigh-immortal status.
“The last of the rioting in Srila, Corkra, and Glenn have been quelled. The Goldenleaf Forest is under our control.”
“What are your plans moving forward?”
“As we previously discussed,” Zir said, leaning slightly forward.
“The Jagged Peaks then?”
“Indeed. It is high time that the dwarves bowed to the superiority of the elves,” Zir replied, feeling a small thrill of power as his Origin reacted to his words, a small crackle of green light running across his fingers.
“And what of the Defiants?”
“Put down like the dogs, they were, though some managed to escape,” Zir said, feeling his lips twisting down in annoyance.
“I hope your soldiers are hunting them as we speak.”
“Of course,” Zir said, his eyes flicking to the Nina-impersonator as she giggled softly.
“Very well,” the voice said. “And what do you have to report on our other objective?”
“I have not been successful thus far,” Zir said, feeling his mood sour even further.
The Demon let out a hiss of displeasure, and Zir felt his Origin tighten in response. He hid his wince because he knew that any sign of weakness before a being such as this was inviting death.
“Do I need to stress once more how important this is, mortal?” the Demon boomed.
“No,” Zir replied. “I’m working on it.”
“Well, you had better…!” The Demon cut off mid-threat as something on her side caught her attention.
Zir perked up a bit, his keen ears trying – and failing – to capture what was being said on the other end. The Demon turned back, her giant golden eye filling the portal once again.
“I have just received new orders. It seems someone higher up wants this done quickly and in a way that will not alert our enemies.”
Another portal opened above Zir’s desk, and a wooden chest roughly a foot long dropped onto its surface. Zir cracked the lid just enough to peek in, but not enough for Nina or Sylvester to see. The contraption within was odd-looking, unlike anything he’d seen before, and Zir knew he’d be spending the next few days trying to figure out exactly what it did and how to use it.
“Your soldiers will use this item on their next attempt,” the Demon said, her voice implying that this was not a request, but an order.
“Very well,” Zir said, closing the chest and placing it carefully in a drawer, which he magically sealed with the signet ring on his index finger.
“Do not fail this time, mortal. We will not be happy if you miss another opportunity.”
Zir only gave a single curt nod, not trusting himself to speak. Then, the portal winked out, leaving the three of them alone once again.
“Vile, rotten, maggot-riddled, shit stain,” Zir muttered, curling his fingers into fists.
Who did that Demon think she was, ordering him around like that?
“Is something the matter, uncle?” Sylvester asked, his creepily flat voice breaking him from his internal raging.
“Everything is fine,” Zir replied, forcing the anger down. “Now, let us be off. The execution will begin shortly, and I’m sure it will be something you don’t want to miss.”
For the first time that day, a very ugly and disturbing smile stretched across Sylvester’s face.
“Oh, I’m sure it will be just horrid.”
***
Palmine, former Professor at the Goldenleaf School of Magic, watched from the center of the gathered crowds as Blyss and Alvine, the former King and Queen of the elves, were dragged onto the execution platform. She felt her heart sink as she witnessed their poor state, wishing she could go up there and help them. There hadn’t been so much as a glimpse of the royal couple in weeks, but the construction of the execution podium, complete with two hangman’s nooses, was more than enough of a hint as to what would be happening.
She watched, brokenhearted, along with most of the others in the crowd, as their necks were both fitted with a noose, the human soldier tightening the rope with obvious glee, before stepping away. Blyss seemed beyond gone by this point, but Alvine stood strong, straight-backed and facing the crowd, teeming with his former subjects.
Zir stepped onto the stage then, dressed in a flowing black cloak with the crown that had once been Alvine’s perched upon his brow. The crowd went immediately silent, the fear this elf commanded almost palpable in the air. Sylvester stepped onto the stage next, eyeing his adoptive parents with the indifference of someone observing a bug.
Had Palmine seen hatred, she might have understood – not that she would have known why he was so angry with them. But seeing his expressionless face chilled her down to her very bones. Sylvester looked more like an emotionless golem than a living elf, though when the girl Nina, the one who’d magically flourished over the last few weeks, waved to him, his expression changed – just for an instant – to pure infatuation.
Then, it was gone, and he was walking over to face his adoptive parents. He didn’t say a thing, simply staring at the two of them as Zir faced the crowd.
“People of Srila,” he said, his voice echoing out in the silence. “And of course, honored nobles.”
Several elves, all dressed in finery, all nodded in his direction at his acknowledgment.
And why wouldn’t they, Palmine thought bitterly.
It was obvious how Zir had gotten this many soldiers to the city without detection, and how so many explosive devices were placed throughout the city in the first place. These nobles had wanted more power and had been willing to betray their king and queen to get it. Knowing Zir’s tactics, none of them would be long for this world.
‘Once a traitor, always a traitor.’
The old adage was a saying for a reason.
“We have all gathered here to witness the end of these ill-meaning monsters. They are the ones who stole my rightful throne and ruled you all without the proper authority. Watch closely, and don’t you dare look away. There is no room for traitors in our great elven nation, and not even former kings or queens are immune to the law!”
