Taken by the Demon King

Awakening in Flames

I force my eyelids open, each movement sluggish as if weighed down by exhaustion, and the first sight that greets me is the vivid orange glow of a fire dancing wildly before my eyes. The flames leap and twist with an eerie vitality, casting jagged shadows that skitter across the twisted, blackened trees of the Forest of Souls. The heat brushes my skin, almost scalding, as though the fire draws strength from the thick, sulfur-tinged air that clings to this forsaken realm.

My palms press into the coarse ground, sharp pebbles digging into my flesh like miniature blades as I attempt to push myself up. My body feels like a dead weight, muscles stiff and knotted as if I’ve been locked in slumber for days—maybe weeks. My mouth is a desert, a bitter, metallic tang coating my tongue, and for a fleeting moment, I’m lost, unsure of my location in this alien landscape.

✧

The fire roars to life, its wood splintering with sharp, resonant cracks that echo through the suffocating darkness, each sound bouncing off the gnarled trunks surrounding us. I lift my head, my neck aching with the effort, and freeze as my gaze locks onto… something that pins me in place. A woman—or a semblance of one—hovers mere inches from me, her eyes twin pools of molten orange, glowing with an unnatural luminescence. Her face is strikingly delicate, with high cheekbones and a smooth, almost translucent complexion, but the illusion fractures at the sight of her ears—long, pointed, and furred, unmistakably canine, twitching as if tuned to frequencies beyond my human hearing. I swallow hard, battling the rising tide of panic, but she detects my discomfort, her stare unyielding, her expression indifferent as if my fear is beneath her notice.

✧

The fire’s warmth caresses my cheeks, yet a shiver ripples down my spine, prickling my skin with goosebumps. My heart slams against my ribs, a frantic rhythm, and I draw my knees to my chest, my mind racing to reconstruct the blurred events before I lost consciousness. The air thickens with spiraling smoke, its acrid bite stinging my eyes, and I close them briefly, inhaling slowly to quell the storm inside me. Images flicker—Caim’s crimson eyes, a portal’s maw—but they slip away like sand.

✧

I blink—once, twice, three times—my vision sharpening as confusion swirls. The sky… is it red? My eyes widen, the shock rooting me deeper into the dirt. The crimson expanse stretches infinitely, a dull, oppressive hue that seeps into the oily, blackened bark of the trees, their branches twisting like skeletal hands. For a moment, I question my sanity, wondering if this is a nightmare or the Hell my Mormon upbringing warned me about. I draw a deep breath, the scent of ash mingling with a faint, sweet undertone, and my gaze returns to the woman, who seems to drink in my every reaction with quiet fascination.

✧

“You’re reacting better than I anticipated,” she muses, her voice a low, velvety murmur, more a note to herself than to me.

“I am—” my voice trembles, a fragile thread, and I swallow again, the lump in my throat swelling as tears brim in my eyes, threatening to fall.

“Good,” she continues, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “I half-expected to hunt you through these woods like a frightened deer!” Her tone carries a mocking lilt, her fangs glinting as she speaks.

✧

“You are…?” I try to infuse my voice with strength, but it emerges thin and quivering, betraying my fear.

“Freya,” she answers, her smile widening to reveal sharp, ivory fangs that catch the firelight. My vision blurs at the edges, bile surging up my throat, the bitter taste intensifying as nausea twists my stomach.

“No, you’re a…” I falter, my mind grasping for the word, and she tilts her head, as if reading my thoughts.

“A demon? Oh, yes, I am,” she confirms, her orange eyes sparkling with a trace of pride. My vision dims, the world tilting as the truth settles like a stone in my chest.

✧

“Demons don’t have horns, do they?” I venture, my voice shaky, and her smile vanishes, replaced by a flicker of annoyance.

“Only princes and generals are adorned with horns—marks of their exalted status,” she explains, her fingers brushing her pointed ears in a self-conscious gesture. “We lower demons are hybrids, our forms blending with traits you humans label as animalistic—ears, claws, senses honed by millennia in this abyss.”

✧

My God… what the hell? The thought crashes through me, a blend of dread and disbelief. I attempt to stand, my legs wobbling beneath me, but before I can rise further, a firm hand clamps onto my shoulder, pinning me to the ground. My body locks in place at the touch, and I glance at Freya’s hand. Her skin appears human at first—pale and smooth—but the illusion shatters as I notice the small, razor-sharp claws tipping her fingers. I swallow hard, my throat parched. They’re dark as obsidian, curved and lethal, glinting with the promise of tearing flesh.

✧

“This place is perilous,” Freya whispers, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial hush. “We’re still shrouded in night within the Forest of Souls. We’ll depart at dawn.” Her warning lingers, laced with the weight of unseen threats lurking beyond the firelight.

“I don’t…—” I begin, my words slurring as fatigue drags at me—“should be here,” I finish, my voice fading.

She smiles again, a glint of mockery in her eyes. “In Hell, we hold a saying: you only dwell where you truly belong.”

✧

“I’m sure I haven’t sinned enough to be in Helllll,” I protest, my voice cracking with desperation, and her eyes widen as she scans the forest. I follow her gaze; her orange irises darken, probing the shadows for danger. She turns back to me, her expression settling into satisfaction.

“Define sin,” she challenges softly, her voice a velvet blade. “You humans believe your actions alone seal your fate here, but the true condemnation lies here—” she taps her chest, over her heart—“something within your soul drew you, even if your deeds were blameless.”

“I don’t believe that!” I argue, clinging to denial.

✧

“Don’t waste your breath proving your innocence,” she cuts me off, her tone sharp. “You’re neither the first nor the last human to stumble into this realm. And it’s futile—I lack the power to remove you.”

Caim… was that real? His voice slices through my memory: *I’ll devour your soul!* The words hit like a physical blow. Freya snorts beside me, irritated, and my eyes drift to her neck. I notice irregular marks snaking across her skin, initially resembling tattoos under the fire’s dance. As the light shifts, the rough texture and twisted contours reveal deep, jagged scars—burns etched into her flesh.

✧

Freya catches my stare, her trembling fingers tracing the scars as if to hide them. “Caim—” I look away, flustered—“where is he?”

“Busy,” she replies curtly.

I huff, frustration bubbling. “He brought me here! To abandon me in this wretched forest—demons have a bizarre sense of humor,” I mutter.

“Oh, he’ll come for you,” she says, a genuine smile breaking through. “If you’re this eager to see him, you shouldn’t have slept for four days.” My eyes widen in shock.

“I don’t want to see him,” I snap back. “Wait—four days?” She nods, her gaze steady.

✧

“The master couldn’t risk escorting you himself,” she explains. “The journey’s a day’s walk for a human, but I’ve never seen such a fragile frame.” She narrows her eyes, then shrugs, as if my weakness is a trivial note. The red sky above pulses faintly, the crimson deepening.

“We’re in a forest that might harbor things wanting us dead,” I say, sarcasm dripping. “Caim could’ve spared us all and killed me upfront.”

“He had no intent to kill you—at least not yet,” she grumbles, rolling her eyes.