The Sixth Demon

The demon resisted with increasing fervor as the man got closer to the altar. It screamed and thrashed violently against the brittle confines of his mind. But the man only grimaced and continued walking defiantly toward the small glass pyramid glowing on top the altar.

After all these years, why do you betray me now?

“There is no other way,” the man said aloud. His voice was the only one to fill the room. The walls were covered in intricate decorations. Glyphs of hundreds of worlds spawned from a vortex of color painted above the altar.

“I am dying,” he said simply. “Should my body fail with you still in it, you will die as well.”

I accept that fate.

“I will not be responsible for your death.”

That is not for you to decide.

“It seems that it is.”

No!

The demon reacted desperately, flailing with all its strength to slow the man. His knees buckled and he staggered, but somehow kept going. A lifetime of being bound together had taught him how to resist the demon’s influence.

“Stop this, Azel. My end is already close enough. If you kill me then you kill us both.”

I will not return to the relic – I may never escape it again. I would rather die than to return to that darkness.

“If you let me,” the man grunted. “I will take the relic to the surface. Someone will find it. You won’t be imprisoned longer than a blink.”

Let me die with you.

Exhausted, the man slumped over.

Taliphram…are you…fading?

“Yes, Azel. We are dying.”

Good.

The man and the demon fell silent. Heavy breathing and the hum of the relic resting on the altar were the only sounds in the room. He was so close. It was almost within reach. Taliphram raised his arm, but it failed him almost immediately, falling back to his side. “No…” he whispered. “We need your power, Azel. Everything will falter without you.”

We will not be there to witness the collapse. Besides…it has never been my responsibility.

“Then why help me. For so long…” he said weakly. “Countless lives and kingdoms saved from crumbling. Why?”

Taliphram. Stop.

He was crawling toward the relic. His strength, the final minutes of his life, flowed through him in second long bursts. Enough to cover the last fraction of distance to the relic.

Taliphram!

“I do this for you, Azel.”

Taliphram placed his limp hand against the bottom of the altar. It felt cool to the touch, so refreshingly cold. Azel’s voice was cut off like a wire had snapped and Taliphram was finally able to stand. Blood began to pour from the parts of his palm that had touched the pedestal. The relic hummed with excitement. It hummed violently. He touched the top of the pyramid with his bloody palm. A rush of black erupted from the relic and the walls around him, consuming Taliphram’s vision and breath. He gasped as his body began to enter the final stages of failure. It was as if his very soul were being offered alongside the demon he was hiding. His head was still disturbingly silent. Agonizing silence that made his ears bleed. He lost the strength to stand as suddenly as it had returned and he crumpled over in front of the altar, blood and black dripping all around him. Not that he could see it. He was completely blind.

Taliphram prayed silently as the relic retrieved the demon that he had harbored for almost his entire very-extended life.

“May the next person this relic blesses have more honor than I… Be well, my friend….”

***