I can hear the anxious trembling of Marius, the older man's sword smacking against the armor of his leg with an annoying clang. He keeps his hands folded in front of him as he attempts to subtly wring out the front of his tabard. I glance up towards him with a raised eyebrow. The light in here is dim at best, with only a few candles clustered about the corners of the room, if you could call them corners. If you could even call it a room.

It is a cave, nestled deep within the woods of Previtzia, a small village on the edge of my kingdom.

Well, of what should be my kingdom. I have been fighting for my birthright for almost two years, ever since Henry I, a wealthy merchant and socialite but still a commoner, stole it from my father when I was nine. I was to be killed just as my brothers were, but none knew I had an affinity for magic. Too young to fight, I hid from my enemies, and then ran to the outskirts of Mercia with a guardsman. I had allies; people who did not benefit from Henry's conservative rule, but also those who felt a man of low birth was not fit to rule an entire country. When I was of an age when I could fight, I attacked with all the numbers I mustered. Unfortunately, after these long two years, whatever lands I was able to establish a hold on are faltering. My rebellion is losing its strength.

"I ask we find another way, my prince." Marius manages out, distracting me from my thoughts. "Your magic is still growing; you have yet to discover your core abilities. You do not have to do this."

A blade presses in to my forearm. I kneel in front of a summoning circle made of salt with a candle at its center. The design is intricate, swirling patterns with pointed ends. Behind me is a dirt covered yet lovely old witch, wielding my own dagger to draw my blood. She chants softly in the Old Tongue, feeling my hesitation and not yet pulling the blade back. I must be absolutely sure.

Narrowing his eyes, my uncle Jean gives a sharp elbow to the side of Marius. "Boy," he says to me with that exasperated tone, "You know what you must do. Restore the glory of the Aurelians. Avenge your father and your brothers. Make the Delsors pay for what they did to us."

I think of my father; the look in his eyes as Henry ran a sword through him. "For Mercia," Henry had said.

My father, Jarrett XIV, was not a particularly good king, especially after the death of my mother, but he didn't deserve to die as he did. Neither did my brothers. If Henry and his men had seen me, I would have been dead, too. To them, any Aurelian no matter how young was a threat. I wasn't even the youngest. Dimitri was only five.

That thought alone is enough to cement my decision. Little Dimitri. My father watched a guard snap his neck. I want Henry to watch me snap his child's neck, destroying his legacy, too. He's lucky he only has one daughter, so he can't be tortured the way my father was.

"Do it." I say quietly to the witch.

Her chanting doesn't cease, but as soon as I finish speaking, the knife slices in to my skin and the blood spatters all over the bottom of the design drawn in front of me. I make no noise, though I do wince from the pain. Those who stand behind me; Marius, Jean, and several guards take a step back against the dirt walls around us. Some blood landed on the candle in the center of the circle, and I watch as it goes out for but a second or two, before it relights in black flame.

Marius gasps. The witch chants louder as the candles around us brighten and the smoke of the black flame rises to the ceiling of the cave. It pools above, swirling about languidly, before dripping back down and clouding around the candle itself. The cloud grows, but never passes the salt outlining the circle. It is trapped, whatever it is.

The witch leans away from me and hands my dagger back, and I notice the gash she'd just given me on my arm is already healed.

"How did—"

The candles are now so bright they're pillars of light reaching as high as a man, and able to light up the entire cave. They illuminate a smoky form in the summoning circle, towering above me menacingly. The form continues to mold itself and take on the appearance of a man, smoke swirling about its visage with two glowing red eyes. I can distinctly see horns and a tail, and muscle definition that is quite inhuman, and yet while the guards, my uncle, and even the witch back away in fear, I rise to my feet and meet the monster with grim determination.

"I am Kazaxon the Red, demon of Wrath, commander of six legions," it announces. Its booming voice seems to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once, so deep like it were several men tall. "You have called me from the seven kingdoms of Hell, brought me to your world. I would know the purpose."

"I am Alekso Aurelian, son of Jarrett XIV, and the rightful heir to the throne of Mercia." I reply. "I am also a mage in my own right."

There is a moment's pause, before the glowing eyes narrow. "Ah. You seek the Rite of Diablerie."

I nod, rather than speak. I always considered myself to be the bravest among my men despite being only nineteen, but this creature is enough to intimidate me. It explains why the summoning circle is so large, and even so the demon's massive shoulders seem pressed against an invisible cage. The witch takes a step forward and urges me on, giving me a reassuring nod.

"Yes. I seek to reclaim my family's throne. Mercia is my kingdom. The current king, Henry I, murdered my family and seized control."

"Is this Henry I a good king?" it asks, horned head tilting slightly. I see it grin at my hesitance.

"Does it matter?" spits out Jean from behind me.

The demon's grin widens. "No it does not. Now then, I would have your terms."

"Terms?" Marius asks. "What does he mean, terms?"

"A demon will not simply give you power should you ask for it," the witch interjects. "A deal must be struck. He must have something in return. Quite often, it is your mortal soul; another soldier to add to his great army."

"I will give up whatever it takes to save my family's legacy." I insist. "If that means my body and soul, then it is worth it."

The demon folds its arms as it listens, then raises a hand. "I do not need more soldiers for the army of Wrath. I command many legions. Instead, I would counter your offer with something else."

All of us turn back towards the smoke. It swirls about within its confines before reforming again. "I have been in existence for longer than you can fathom. I have seen all there is to see of Hell, of the underworld. We demons desire to live in the human realm because it brings us closer to the heavens and to God. Whether we seek His welcome or His destruction depends on the demon. I, however, do not wish for Heaven. I simply wish to see your world, from your eyes. Alekso Aurelian, son of Jarrett XIV, I offer you more than just my power. I offer you my entire being; my own, dark soul. Let me join with you and see things as you do. With you as my vessel, I will give you strength and power beyond your wildest imagination, lengthen your life, and protect you if all seems dire. You can keep your soul for all I care. I simply wish to see."

I fold my arms, feeling a bit like the cocky youngling this demon must surely see in me. "Really? That is it? You are willing to give up whatever power you have in your world so that you may see mine? You cannot fool me. There must be more to it."

"I would be in your thoughts, in your mind at all times. I would share in all you do. You would have no privacy for the rest of your life, as we would be one. And your body would live as long as I will it to, but whether or not you see that as a negative is up to you."

"He offers you immortality, Alekso." Jean whispers.

"As well as all of my power. You are a young mage now, but with my help, you will be King."

I know there is more to it than he's telling me, and I narrow my eyes on him as he does the same. Perhaps I will go mad from having a demon's voice in my head, or perhaps he will take me over completely. I consider all of these things, but in this moment, I disregard them. I'm strong in both mind and body. This demon does not scare me. I will kill Henry I, his family, and take what is rightfully mine.

If it means becoming a diablarist, then so be it.

"I accept your terms, Kazaxon the Red." I finally say, and sweep my cloak against the salt of the summoning circle. As soon as the circle is open, the smoke that was filling its space slowly seeps out, wrapping about my ankles. I think nothing of it, waiting patiently, before the smoke then shoots up and knocks me to the ground. I feel it entering every orifice on my face – through my eyes, my mouth, even my ears. The witch stands still, and Jean holds Marius back as I convulse before the candles flicker out.

I see only blackness, and then I fall in to a deep sleep.

When I finally awaken, it is morning from the bright light at the mouth of the cave. The witch is gone. Marius rises to his feet and rushes over to me, kneeling down and helping me sit up. The look on his face is pure horror.

"Boy, what have you done?" He whispers harshly to me. "This is an affront against God! I do not understand why I allowed it to go this far. You sought the help of a pagan and she nearly killed you, and then she disappeared as if she never existed. You could be poisoned for all we know! We must take you to a church, somewhere we know is with us, and purge you of whatever—"

I cut him off. My hand shoots out, wrapping around his throat, and I see the look of unbridled terror in his eyes. As I rise to my feet, I take him with me, and although he is a larger man I lift him easily as if he weighs nothing. The strength I feel, the energy and power, is indescribable.

Without a second thought I tear his throat apart and toss him to the ground. Blood sprays on my clothes, and I stare down at my old friend while he bleeds out, and that shock and fear in his eyes fade away to nothing.

My uncle Jean stands slowly, two of the guards moving in front of them. They grip their swords and watch me warily. I pay them no mind, flexing my claws as they retract back in to plain, human nails. But I'm not done yet. I wave my palms over Marius' dead form, and pull his life essence back in to him. It is not his soul, but that is okay. I don't need the soul, just the body.

Marius stands up with eyes pure white but staring in to nothing. The blood is still draining from the wound on his neck as I point to the mouth of the cave and he turns to walk. I smile over to Jean. He is in awe, and I hear the trembling again, but not from Marius. From the guards. They dare not say or do a thing.

"I have found my core ability, uncle." I say.

"The Aurelians will return to their former glory," He replies, still awestruck.

"Come. I have a kingdom to reclaim."

You mean we have a kingdom to reclaim, Alekso.

I nod in agreement as I follow the walking corpse.