Shadows that Rival Demons

The summer wind blows lightly against Mezema’s skin. He surveyed The world around him. Everyone looks so happy, so alive. He’s the exact opposite. Mezema rubbed his hand against the rough bark under him. “Ker, why did you decide to possess me? What made me so special?” He asked. Mezema felt a cold, and dark presence in his body. A deep, mysterious voice spoke that made any normal mortal tremble. “You were confused. You were searching for a reason to live. I gave you one.” The demon explained. Mezema made a slight chuckle. “You give me a reason to die an early death.” Mezema told it. He reached up to pick a leaf from a nearby tree, grasping it in his hand. “You’ve made me alone. You’ve made me feared.” Mezema ripped apart the leaf and watched it be taken away by the wind. “The world doesn’t accept you! The world is the reason for your rejection!” Ker’s voice rose to a tone Mezema rarely hears. He cracked a smile. He took joy out of Ker’s tantrums. Realizing this, the demon’s tone softens. “You have so much potential, Mezema. The world can’t see that. I do.” Ker told him. Mezema took a deep sigh and jumped off of the branch. Once his feet hit the ground he began to walk. “You always doubt me after talking to that girl. Does she interest you that much?” That question struck Mezema’s heart. It made him feel the only emotion he has ever felt. Sadness. The demon’s question seemed sincere. Mezema expected a mocking tone, but Ker seemed legitimately curious, which caught the man off his guard. “No.” He answered quickly. “It’s just everytime I look at her, I remember how I almost killed her, and how she was the only person to forgive me.” The demon was satisfied with that answer. In fact, it expected such an answer from Mezema. The man continued to walk North from Hyperous. The demon felt something strange. Mezema never walks in the same direction for too long to avoid hunters. Sensing Ker’s feelings, Mezema decided to put it to a rest. “I think I’m powerful enough to retrieve the underworld key.” Mezema told it. Ker didn’t know how to feel. Has he truly become that powerful? In the end, it was what Ker wanted, but he couldn’t help to feel a slight bit of fear for Mezema. As they continued walking, the bright green trees turned into black leafless branches. The sound of cracking sticks echoed throughout the area. No wind blew. No odor filled the air. The two stumbled upon a small cave that looked no better than the trees. Mezema could see nothing inside. All that showed was a dark abyss. In that abyss, Mezema thought he saw a speck of light within its bowels. He immediately thought of the girl. “Ryce.” Mezema whispered. A tear fell down his face. One single tear. He began to feel an annoyance deep within Ker. He imagined what Ryce would think if she saw him right now. A deep sadness struck Mezema’s heart. He was used to it by now. Sadness was all he ever felt. A cracking noise broke Mezema’s thoughts. He jerked his head around, so much so it hurt his neck. Mezema scanned the lifeless trees before him. He saw a tall figure in one of the black trees. He wore a blue jacket, and pants darker than the trees. He was holding two daggers, “Go on.” Mezema yelled to him. “Try and kill me.” Ker wasn’t surprised by Mezema’s hastyness. He had a large bounty on his head. Assassins became common in their lives. Both beings heard a psychotic laughter ripping through the grey skies. “Do you mean these weaklings?” The man threw one of his daggers down to five lumps in the dirt. Mezema could barely see them, but he assumed they were corpses. The man jumped down from his tree and picked up the weapon he threw. “I heard them talking about how rich they’d be once they murder you. I disposed of them quickly, but apparently I blew my cover in the process.” The man explained. Both Mezema and Ker was interested in this man. He couldn’t have been another assassin. If he was, he would’ve joined the other party, or kill them after they killed Mezema. “If you’re not here to kill me, then what are you here for?” Mezema asked. The man walked close to Mezema. Almost too close. The man was just a few steps away from dying. “I come here by my own will to assist you.” The man said. Mezema’s suspicions quickly rose. Everyone who comes to meet Mezema is there to kill him. No one has ever come to help him. “What would you gain from helping me? If it is to gain knowledge, then you’ll be hunted down as much as I am.” Mezema told him. Ker watched on, grabbing entertainment from the conversation. “I want to help you with anything you desire.” The man told Mezema with a wicked smile on his face. Mezema began to distrust him. “Identify yourself immediately.” Mezema ordered. Hopefully his name will tell him something. “Zust. Pleasure to meet you.” He introduced. Mezema has never heard of a Zust, so he isn’t a criminal or hunter. “Why do you want to help me?” Mezema asked, his tone darkening. All of this mystery and distrust was boiling Mezema’s blood, and Ker could sense it all too well. “I admire someone like you.” Zust answered. “The entire world is against you, yet you still go on. I’m hoping to learn a thing or two from you.” He explained. Mezema has never thought of the world being against him. He’s always thought of himself being against the world. Mezema started to calm down. “Aren’t you scared of me?” Mezema asked. Zust nodded. “Yes. I can die by your hands at any moment.” That was the only time Mezema remembers someone not lying about their fear for him. He was becoming too open. Too trustworthy. Mezema cracked a smile. Zust became curious of the change of expression. “Very well. You may join me on my journeys…” Mezema said. Zust’s eyes widened. “If you can hurt me.” The moment Mezema finished his sentence, Zust backed away from him. In seconds, something whistled through the air, and Mezema dashed to the left. Behind Mezema was the blue hilt of a blade. Zust twirled one knife in his hand, giving Mezema a smirk. Inside of his head, he could hear Ker’s laughter. This was the hardest it’d ever laughed before. It annoyed Mezema, but he had to focus on Zust for now. The man started to sprint into the wilderness, hiding behind the array of clumped up trees. It did not take long for Mezema to lose track of Zust. He could not see him. He had no idea where he was. Mezema attempted to block out Ker’s noise, but it was laughing uncontrollably. Mezema has never witnessed Ker like this. Mezema scanned the area for any sign of Zust. When he turned his head to the left, he saw a dagger flying through the air. He jumped away, the blade missing in between his legs. Now it was Mezema’s turn to smile. To his knowledge, those were all of Zust’s weapons. The only way to injure him now was up close, and no one can do that. Suddenly, Mezema could hear Zust’s psychotic chuckle stab his ears. Mezema spun around the area, not knowing where the voice was coming from. “Hi.” Mezema dashed around to see Zust right next to him! In an instant, Mezema could feel something warm running down his cheek. Not taking his eyes off of Zust, he glided his hand across his face. Red liquid was in Mezema’s fingers. “Blood?” Mezema whispered. He was in shock. In a state of confusion, Mezema went to punch Zust, but his fist went through his body. Mezema began to calm down, realizing what was happening. Zust faded away into nothingness. “Reveal yourself.” Mezema ordered. He turned around to be met with Zust several feet away. Ker stopped laughing. It knew I would fall for that trick. “What do you use to conjure up those clones?” Mezema asked. Zust was silent for a while. He was thinking of whether it would hurt or not to tell him. “I use shadows.” Zust answered. Mezema felt cold once again. “Did he pass the test?” Ker asked. In his previous amazement, Mezema forgot what that fight truly meant. “Yes.” He said. Mezema turned to the illusionist. “Come in the cave with me.” Mezema demanded of Zust. He gave Mezema a slight bow and walked around Mezema and stepped into the abyss. An odor of decaying flesh and blood soaked rocks entered Zust’s nose. He could barely breathe. It was as if his lungs were being strangled. The inside didn’t look like a cave. Scrawls of stick figures and monsters were on the walls. The place was empty except for a staircase leading to a cracked circle. Footsteps bounced off of the walls. Zust twisted his head to find Mezema walking into the cave. “Go up against the wall. That should be far enough.” Mezema told him. Zust did so without hesitation. Even so, his body trembled at the thought of a trap or something deadly hidden somewhere. Mezema seemed to lack that fear. He walked up the stairs to the circle. Mezema stared into the cracked object, waiting for something to happen. Soon, the shape was set on fire, a small flame protruding from it. The warmth was welcomed by Mezema, but he kept his eyes on the oval. The fire grew bigger and hotter, but Mezema never took his attention away from it. He began to hear voices. Gasps of men, of women, of elders, of children taking their last breaths as they got close to Mezema. He felt nothing. Those voices did not phase him anymore. He has heard too many of them. The flames shifted into an image of Mezema surrounded by five soldiers. He remembered this image. It was the first assassins sent to kill him. They died all the same, but he remembered how scared he was. He truly thought he was going to die. Mezema saw himself begging for mercy and crying. He remembered how there still was hope for hi back then. All of these neutral faces faded from Mezema. Now the flames made a girl. A beautiful, young woman sobbing with her fiery hair in a long ponytail. “Ryce.” Mezema whispered. He expected to see her eventually, but the sight of her did not make it any less painful. “Why?” She asked. “Why are you doing this?” Mezema knew she couldn’t hear him. He knew she wasn’t real, but he answered anyways. “No one understands me, so the world rejected me. It’s my turn to reject the world.” His words sparked a reaction within the flames, as if she really was there. Her crying expression turned into one of disappointment and anger. She stared deep into Mezema’s soul. “You’re a monster.” Ryce told him. Mezema’s heart skipped a beat. His brain was pounding against his skull. The blood flowing through his body began to sear hotter than the flames. He reached out his hand to seize the fiery Ryce. Once his hand made contact, the flames disappeared, taking Ryce with them. What was in Mezema’s hand was cold and hard. It sent shivers down his spine just by touching it. It was a key that glowed a dark purple with a demon design. His eyes shot at Zust. The illusionist banged his back against the wall, fearful of the sight. Mezema’s expression turned darker than the abyss of the cave, with his eyes glowing the same purple as the key. “I will show you what a true monster is.”