Authors note:

Word count

This chapter: 2041

Total: 9196

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Rosedriah clenched her fists tightly, glaring at Aitken.

“Command: Unsummon!” She yelled.

Aitken felt a familiar tingling feeling, and gazed at Rosedriah in disbelief, while still grasping the metal pendant with blue crystal core he had received from the demon king.

The large purple eye faded in above him - whether or not it was visible to anybody else, he did not know. The eye hung about two imp-heights above his head, and it stared him down from above, almost as if it was glaring at his very presence. A certain salty smell spread around Aitken. He gazed briefly into the abyss of the pupil above him, as the pupil distorted slightly from a build-up in liquid.

I can’t dissapear now, I need to save my family. I’ll outrun it

Aitken rolled sideways to the left, but winced in pain as his wings ached when he rolled over them. To his surprise, the eye didn’t stop him from moving. Instead, it casually levitated right above him, no matter how much he squirmed and struggled to get away from it - almost as if it could see his very movements before he himself could.

A scary thought suddenly struck him. If nobody had ever returned from being summoned from damnation, where exactly would they go if they were unsummoned?

The thought of getting stuck in limbo sent chills down his spine, as the eye hanging above him seemed more menacing than ever. A large drop of liquid fell from the eye, and encased Aitken in a sphere-shape. Aitken tasted the nearly unbearably salty liquid, but there was a hint of something else - Sulphur.

Aitken watched helplessly as the liquid was slowly drained into the darkness of the pupil, dragging him along as if he was flushed from a toilet.

As he passed through the pupil, he was engulfed in darkness - no pictures, no smells and no sounds. The only thing visible was the eye behind him, slowly closing.

Aitken could hear his own heartbeat, and see the eye narrowing. Perhaps this was what his destiny was - to be stuck in limbo for eternity… Or perhaps this was but a pocket-dimension, storing summons until they were once more summoned… Either way, he did not have the luxury of time to wait for this witch, just to realize she would never even summon him again.

Aitken yelled, but to his surprise the darkness carried no sounds. As the eye grew closer and closer to shutting completely, leaving him to limbo for eternity, he flapped his wings once more. The pain was nearly unbearable, as the torn and burnt wings forced their every inch of movement… Yet nothing. Not even a single hairsbreadth did that move him.

The eye had but a sliver of light left, and Aitken started flailing his arms, legs and wings wildly.

No! Don’t close, I still haven’t done what I needed to do… I’m not done! Let me out!

He grit his teeth as the last speck of light was hastily slipping away.

no.. No… NO!

The last speck of light disappeared right outside his grasp. His entire world had slipped between his fingers.

Almost as soon as the light had left his world, he started to doubt whether his eyes were open or closed. His heart was beating loudly and was the only comfort he would find in this forsaken place.

After what seemed ages, but might just have been a few hours, his teeth started to rattle.

There is truly no escape from this abyss, this darkness?

He flailed wildly and shouted in fury, but his voice didn’t reach his own ears - not even through his own body.

I had so much to do, so much to stay for.

He sighed, although the sound still didn’t carry to his ears. He moved his tail towards his hands, only coordinated by his own sense of relative limb positioning. He grabbed an oval thing he had stuck to his tail what seemed eons ago.

Potato… What should I do? he whimpered in his mind. I can’t stay, but I don’t know how to go either.

Potato… Just answer me… What should I do?

Potato...

He sighed in frustration. You are just a potato... just a damn potato. You can’t help me. Heck, I can’t even help me.

He lifted both his hands with the potato in between, up over his head in a fit of rage.

Damn this place.

“Stop.” A voice echoed within his mind.

Immediately, Aitken stopped and his head and eyes darted around, inspecting the darkness to no avail.

What was that?

“I am… the potato? Yes, I am the potato.”

If there had been any light - or anybody to see him - they would notice Aitken’s disbelieving squint.

You’re the potato?

“Yes, I am the potato.”

You could talk? Are you perhaps some magical dragon-egg that will save me from this abyss?

“I mean, I’m a potato… but if that’s what you’re into, I guess I can play along?”

...So can you save me?

“I’m a potato… I don’t think so… But you can save you. Just channel your inner rage.”

Are you sure you are a potato?

“What would make you think otherwise? I don’t see anybody else here.”

So… Why can you speak?

“Lets skip the technicalities - all you need to do is release your inner demon.”

Why are you so bent on that?

“N-no reason… just…I… erh, Potato.. thinks it’s a good idea to release your inner demon.”

I’m talking to myself, right? I’m mad, right?

“...”

So you say to channel my inner demon?

Hello? Potato?

Potato!

What seemed hours of complete silence passed by.

Demon?

He flinched.

The pendant! Of course!

Aitken grabbed the pendant he had once received from the demon king. He clenched his fist so hard he was afraid he would break the locket.

Get me out.

…

Get me out of here, now! I command you!

…

It has to work! there is no alternative.

Sesame open! Alakazam alakabim, open.

Eye, eye on the wall, Open up and stop the stall.

Please open? with sulphur on top?

Hmmm..

Command: Open!

The darkness still didn’t budge.

Work, damn you! work!

“Summon.” the voice echoed.

Huh? potato, is that you?

There was no response.

With all his might, both his voice and his thoughts, Aitken focused.

“Command: Summon!”

Pictures, smells and sounds all flew by at an incredibly rapid pace. White lights, blue skies, towns, battlefields and witches. Smells of death, births and cheese flew by.

“That one!” Aitken yelled, and to his surprise, his voice carried through the noise.

He felt as if glass shattered in front of him, as he flew with an incredible pace into the picture he had pointed out. Had he not been immune to heat, the very friction might have been cause for worry.

Boom!

Aitken tumbled through the air, far up over the square church with a green hole in the center. “It worked… it actually worked…” He looked at the inanimate potato in his hands. “I could not have done this without you.”

Suddenly he felt the wind fly by underneath him. The church was but a tiny speck, far below. He noticed the fog was dense all the way up here.

The wind rapidly whistled by, as Aitken fell at incredible speeds. His eyes grew wide.

If I don’t slow down, I’ll end up a splatter!

He spread out his burnt wing - at least it wouldn’t tear.

Flop.

He oscillated a bit back and forth as the wing pointed straight up into the air.

Aitken grit his teeth and put the potato onto his tail again. This will hurt. A lot.

He retracted both his wings, and put his hands behind the most damaged areas.

He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.

Slowly, he spread his wings, supporting the most damaged places as well he could with his scaly hands.

The wind tore into his wings, and a sharp pain spread through the wings as they started to tear. Flakes of burnt skin and tattered pieces of wing fell off. Neon orange drops of blood flew up all around Aitken.

The wind whistled by, and the pain steadily grew as pieces of wing and blood flew into the air. Then the wind picked up under the tattered wings. Blood and pieces of wing showered him as their speed became higher than his.

He glided around in circles for a while, as his wings continued to deteriorate. Not far above the church, they could no longer sustain his glide, and he tumbled onto the roof of the church - and went straight through.

He landed in a small stone-room with sloping walls supported by wooden beams.

Aitken laid perfectly still for a while, recovering from the tremendous pain. He looked at his wings - both of which could hardly be called wings at this point. black bones extruded from his back, with small flaps of leathery tatters hanging from them. Neon orange splatters covered the tatters and his back was sporadically dotted by blood. The smell of smoke mixed with metal spread in the entire room as he splattered blood from moving.

I need… to get out of here. It’s impossible that this went unnoticed.

Aitken forced himself to his tiny legs. He heard hasty footsteps somewhere outside the door.

“No support beams are broken, it must be something else!”

Aitken felt his hands turn damp as his eyes frantically darted around the place, searching for anything to help him.

His eyes fell on the small window - it would be a tight fit, but he was confident he could make it.

He slowly climbed to the window, pressing himself through it. Even with the tattered wings wrapped around his shoulders, and the long tail pushing with the potato from behind, he had to squirm his way through. On the other side was the garden several floors below him.

Aitken swallowed his spit, and grabbed the edge of the window, hanging down on the other side.

He heard the door click open on the other side of the window. “It’s in here!” he heard a familiar voice yell. “Something came through the roof.”

He recognized the voice as the very guard who had killed him.

“You’re leaving the temporary storage unguarded? Do you know what would happen if a witch caught wind of what’s in there?!” A woman howled in fury.

“Ah! I’ll go back immediately.” the guard said.

“Take the other back-door guards with you. Even if something did come through the roof - No, especially if something came through the roof - you can’t under any circumstances leave it unguarded.” The woman said with a strict tone.

Aitken heard footsteps leave the room, and he slowly dropped himself into the garden.

With a light thump, he stood in the garden, in front of the very flowers he had so long sought.

Aitken peeked around warily, before he picked a handful of the white flowers. They looked like de-thorned roses, but completely white leaves and yellow middle with a black stalk.

He looked at the flowers in his hands.

I really need a backpack, or some pockets or something… And a sword and a scabbard - pretty bad move to leave that behind, but what could I do?

Aitken snuck into a narrow hallway, across from where he had jumped down.

Now, for the back exit.

He snuck through the surprisingly deserted hallway.

It must be my entrance making so much commotion. There’s literally nobody here… I guess I’m short on time, then.

Aitken moved silently through the hallway towards the back exit.

A voice echoed in the hall.

“ARGH! Damn cultists! Damn you all! May you return to the fiery pits of damnation from whence you came!”

Aitkens eyes widened. Deja vu? I know I have heard this before somewhere…

He heard a voice he thought he would never again hear. “I will tear your entire church apart! Even if I have to do it from the afterlife itself!”

It came from none other than his own human body.

The words of the demon king echoed in his mind. “Just hope you end up in the right time and place.”

Aitkens pupils narrowed and he started shaking. This can’t be for real.

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Sorry for the cliffhanger-y ending. (again).

Thanks for reading!