If you know of monsters,
and if you know of demons, then
just remember they know of you too, and they fear you
because you are the dragon
that can overcome them
- Nikita Gill

-----❅-----

- Victorine -

-----❅-----

I watched Nicolas disappear after he had crossed the threshold. In order not to burden the witch any longer, I quickly stepped forward to climb down the ladder as well.

But before I could do that, the watery, blurry image of the wooden floor disappeared and became complete darkness again.

Confused, I looked at the witch, who exhaled in exhaustion. "What happened?", I asked with my heart pounding harder.

"We got rid of the man," she gave me the answer I clearly hadn't hoped for. Slowly and as unobtrusively as possible, my right hand moved down to the hilt of my sword.

The witch now straightened up again. As she stood upright on both legs, it was as if her outer appearance was crumbling away. Her perfect skin became ashen, white, scarred, pockmarked, and uneven. The small nose turned into a big, long and pimply one. Her body became smaller and older, while her posture appeared hunchbacked. As she smiled, I could see pointed, rotting witch's teeth between her lips.

I tried to suppress my rising fear of her appearance, but couldn't stop myself from taking two startled steps backward.

My back bumped into a shelf that hadn't been there before. I spun around to steady it and keep it from toppling over. The clanging sound died away and looking at the contents of the shelf, I was glad nothing had been broken. I stared at the jars of various sizes, filled with human eyes, hearts and other organs.

Inwardly, I tried to calm myself as I turned back around to the witch.

"Why-?" it escaped my mouth before I could even find words for my question.

"I cast a spell on my appearance?" she finished for me, which hadn't been my question at all. "Because it's been my experience that men trust beautiful women more." Her voice was croaky and raspy.

"Where is Nicolas?", I now wanted to know. My fingers clasped the hilt of my sword. "Is he well?"

"In Tenebris. Where he is supposed to be," the witch spoke in a tone as if I should actually know.

"And why not me?", I echoed.

Now it was the witch who looked confused. "Because you have to fulfill the payment for my services. Didn't you get the information from Vindicta, then?"

"What, what payment?", I asked, while my heart was beating faster and more irregularly.

The witch glared at me, then spread her lips into a ghastly smile that sent an icy shiver down my spine. "Don't worry. You'll live." She laughed - a high, shrill sound that drove through my marrow. "As long as you don't act too stupid."

"And if I refuse?", I hissed. "I didn't know anything about a payment. Why should I help you? When we're already helping you enough by knocking Cephas off his throne?"

The witch's smile remained as she regarded me with wide eyes and a creepy look. She raised her hand slowly. I realized only at second glance that she was holding a short, dark hair between her thumb and forefinger. "If you refuse, then your companion will have to suffer very severe pain."

For a few seconds I stared at the hair and cursed inwardly. If witches could communicate with a particular person with the help of a hair and access their head, then they really could be able to torture the body as well.

"So?" the witch asked with raised eyebrows.

"All right," I fumed. "I'll help you."

"Interesting," she fluted, "you like him. Just like he likes you."

Confused, I stared at her. What? What did she mean by that?

"Honestly, I don't really need the hair. I just wanted to see your reaction. You will help me even if you don't want to. Should you not, you will die a bitter, painful death down there."

As she finished her words, the floor began to shake beneath my feet. Searching for support, I reached for the shelf next to me, but it shook just as much. Within a blink, the cottage room was completely gone. Heat enveloped my body so that I began to sweat under my metal armor and my hair stuck to the back of my neck. I realized with horror that my head was free and unprotected. That my helmet was still in the hut.

I looked down at myself. My feet were on solid, reddish ground. There was nothing to be seen far and wide, except for the witch, who was still standing in front of me.

Even on the horizon I could see nothing. The red ground with sandy consistency stretched so far that it seemed to end on no side. The air I breathed in was muggy, hot, and stuffy. I drew my sword and held it in front of me because it was the only thing that could give me a sense of security at the moment.

"Where are we?", I asked in a low, covered voice.

"Can't you guess?" The witch looked at me with wide, mad eyes in which I thought I saw pure madness. "We are in the place you humans so beautifully refer to as hell."

"What for?", I asked, while trying to process the fact that I was apparently really in hell. In the underworld that I knew from myths and ancient writings. In the last few days I had already experienced often enough that some myths corresponded to reality.

The witch now looked into the distance again. A grin twisted her mouth. "To extinguish the infernal beings who, after their punishment, deserve their final death."

I clasped the sword's hilt even tighter than before. "Why did you send Nicolas away for this?"

The old woman turned her head toward me. "Because he is a man. I don't trust men."

I knew about the history of witches. Not only from the tales of Vindicta, but also from my history classes, which today seemed like a whole different world. Sitting in a room with a strict teacher who told you about myths and horrible creatures was very different from meeting them. To look them in the eye and fear for your life.

I was aware that the witches had a deep hatred for men. Because they had been burned and tortured. Had to watch their sisters die. That they had been condemned to death as an obvious witch. And that while pretending to be human women, they still had to endure torment because of violent men. It had been a vicious cycle of suffering and violence that could only end with the witches having to show their true selves and being persecuted for life. Even to this day.

I knew that. But what the witches did not know was that this was not true of every man they encountered. "Not all men are like that," I defended Nicolas, my dead father, my brother, my combat instructor, and every decent male I had encountered in my life.

"All men are like that," she whispered, "especially kings."

Astonished, I looked at her. My lack of understanding was obviously written all over my face, I suppose, as she drew in for an explanation.

"You are and only remain a king when you win wars. Make sacrifices. Kill people. Torture. Demand obedience. Opress the lower population. Play with them as if they were pawns. You eliminate all compassion for others."

"What is your name?", I now demanded to know.

"Hekate," she answered hesitantly, as if she hadn't expected it.

"Hekate," I spoke. "One day I will show you a king who is not like that."

Whether that was Nicolas I was not able to say. I knew from my stay in his castle that he tortured spies horribly. It was beyond my knowledge whether he also fit the rest of the description of the witch. Nor did I know how my father as king might have acted behind the facade of a father.

However, I was sure in showing her my big brother Darius one day and how he ruled over our kingdom of Spero.

Hekate looked as if she was about to answer, but then suddenly fell silent. Her gaze wandered into the distance. "Demons. Get ready." Her voice sounded cold and hard.

I held my sword, my faithful companion of many years, in front of me, looked to the horizon and waited. It wasn't long before I could make out black dots on the red ground.

They ran. Right toward us. The sandy ground was stirred up as they ran, sparking dusty, reddish clouds beside them.

They were so fast that I didn't have to get my crossbow ready because they would be on us in no time.

They were dozens of the most abnormal creatures I had ever laid eyes on. With slender, pitch black, half rotten, naked bodies. The sight of their long tongues, pointed teeth, and mutated, deformed body parts seemed to paralyze me.

But my body reacted as if of its own accord when the first creature lunged at me. I quickly pulled my sword back out of the demon's belly and let it drive through the neck of another with tremendous force as the first creature slumped to the ground. A head fell to the ground beside my feet.

One got a hold of me. With its terribly long arms, it pulled at my hair, sending a sharp pain through my scalp to my entire head area. I tried to twist out of its grip, which hurt even more and brought tears to my eyes.

Almost blindly, I sliced at the air with my sword in front of me until I met resistance. Liquid splashed into my face. I quickly wiped my eyes with my left hand and realized that I had cut the creature's arms.

Without hesitation, I lunged again with my weapon and hit the neck, where my sword got stuck, however. While still strangely feeling a tug and a heavy weight pulling at my hair, I pulled out the sword, causing the creature's blood to splatter. With another lunge, the head was finally severed.

Breathless, I took a step back and grabbed my hair. I was startled when I felt something thin and yet heavy hanging in it, which must have gotten caught there. Something like a bare bone with rotten skin on it. I pulled the severed arm out of my hair with its fingers caught in it.

Another monster ran at me, while I realized out of the corner of my eye that Hekate was taking on twice as many creatures as I was. They were tossed around, pinned to the ground, and split into their component parts in mid-air.

I stepped aside before the creature could reach me with its outstretched arms. But it changed direction so quickly that it slammed into me, knocking me to the ground. It lunged at me immediately. Some part of its body, perhaps a leg or a knee, was resting on my right arm, so I couldn't lift my sword no matter how hard I tried.

The creature opened its mouth and roared in my face, covering my skin with saliva. My stomach turned at the stench, making me sick to my stomach. When I saw his tongue extend, I jerked my head aside so that it missed me just on time.

I felt my left, free hand still clutching the severed arm that had been hanging in my hair. Instinctively, I yanked my arm up and rammed the bony body part into the creature's open mouth. Something splattered on me as I pushed my arm further down its throat. The creature gasped and stopped breathing.

I used my body weight and jerkily raised my hips to finally throw the monster off me. With my now free sword hand, I stabbed blindly into the mutated body twice before picking myself up again.

I felt as if I could breathe fire. Never would I give up fighting for my life. Because by doing so, I was also fighting for Crescentia's life.

Little by little, I would send those demons to their final death.

I came to the aid of Hekate, who was surrounded by now. The creatures were getting closer and closer to her. The demons were not yet aware of me, so I was able to sneak up and drive my sword through the back of one of theirs.

As he went down, another demon turned to me. I yanked my weapon out of its back and pulled up the sharp blade. However, it only hit the extended tongue of the creature fixing me. The long, black body part fell to the ground, still twitching as it secreted black saliva whose consistency was reminiscent of tar.

All too quickly, the creature leapt at me. While clutching me, it lowered its head to my neck and bit.

The pain paralyzed my body. I felt needle-sharp teeth boring through my skin. Disgust, panic, and fear overwhelmed my senses.

Then the creature was flung away from me, feeling as if its pinned teeth were tearing out shreds of skin. When I caught my breath again, I realized that I had refrained from breathing until now.

"Are you all right?" the witch, who had by now completely cleared the battlefield, called out to me.

"Yes," I replied, panting and hiding the fact that the pain of my neck continued to spread to the rest of my body.

"We're almost there," Hekate claimed, pressing a hand to her hip where her white dress was soaking with blood.

"We're hurt," I objected in a trembling voice. I was afraid of not surviving this. Of not being able to save my little sister Crescentia.

"No, we can't leave, not yet," the witch objected.

The wound on my neck was hot, throbbing, and felt wet. I suppressed the urge to put my dirty hand on it. Exhausted, I looked at the carnage around us. Turning my gaze to the horizon, I squinted.

"No," I groaned out. I took a few steps back and stared at the witch. "No, Hekate. They're humans."

Her jet-black eyes seemed to bore right through my soul. "Humans, my dear Victorine, are the worst monsters of all."

Distraught, I looked first at her, then at the humans approaching us slowly, limping and exhausted. "I can't do this."

"You must," Hekate countered. "Or they will kill you."

With what? Their bare hands? Their lean, starved, exhausted bodies?

"Remember, they are here for a reason," the witch's voice reached my ears.

My fingers reached for my crossbow and cocked a wooden bolt. Ready to fire, I aimed and waited. My hands remained rigid and did not tremble.

It was like shooting practice in my childhood. Except that these were not targets with red circles.

Like my forays through the woods as a teenager. Except that these weren't creatures that had attacked the population of Spero.

These were humans.

I had never killed a human before. I had always been quite sure that I could simply kill one. But now I didn't lift a finger, although I should have shot the bolt long ago.

Moments passed in which I wrestled with myself. Next to me, Hekate began to set fire to some people walking toward us.

A thousand questions rushed through my mind. Who were these people? What had they done to go to hell? Could it be that some of them were innocent? Who determined whether they were sent to that terrible place or not? What criteria was used to determine that? Who was I supposed to kill here?

They had reached me nearly. I dropped the crossbow and drew my sword.

It was my sole survival instinct that made me stab my blade through people's bodies.