Hellion's Reckoning

“You let him leave?” A voice interrupted his peaceful morning as he watched the workers toiling in his fields. Ailog turned to find his son, Sylvis, closing the balcony doors behind him. The Magistrate looked back at the workers chained in iron. “So, you’ve finally arrived.” He answered his son, motioning to the seat beside him. The boy groaned but sat, watching as the new slaves were being put to work. Hellions, all of them. “Good to see you too, father,” Sylvis said, grabbing a piece of cake on the table between them.

“I couldn’t kill the king’s nephew,” Ailog answered, stuffing a smaller cake into his mouth, “Not yet.” They couldn’t allow Inias to live, as the hellion prince would forever serve as a beacon of hope. That hope would breed unending conflict, the demon hordes unleashed upon them all.

Sylvis looked out at the field, his eyes narrowing with contempt. “And what of them?” he asked, crossing his legs dismissively. “No sanctuary for devils. Except the ones from whom you profit,” he remarked, his voice dripping with bitterness. “My father, the hypocrite.”

The magistrate’s hand came crashing down on his son’s face, its impact sending Sylvis careening from the chair in a tangle of limbs. Clutching his throbbing jaw, he gazed up at his father with a mix of defiance and fear, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. The force of the blow reignited the painful memories of past beatings, causing the web of scars crisscrossing his back to pulse with phantom pain. That one blow brought him back, as if he were just a boy again cowering at his father’s feet. “F-forgive me,” he stammered, his voice quivering as he struggled to rise unsteadily to his feet.

“You’ve grown too bold for your own good,” Ailog’s voice was bitter, looking with pride at the bruise he’d left upon the boy’s cheek. Sylvis sat once again beside his father, leaning away. “Should I show them mercy? They who killed your mother, your unborn sister. Have you forgotten how they cut her open, bled her dry, and burned her from the inside? A sacrifice to their hellish god.”

With a forced calmness, Sylvis spoke, his voice laced with a quiet determination. “I will never forget, father. I will never forget the atrocities they have committed against us.”

“And you, my child,” Ailog’s voice softened as he placed a comforting hand on his son’s shoulder, “bear the only tool capable of finally ending their scourge.” Peering into his son’s eyes, he continued with intensity, “Once they’re purged, it will be you who reigns as king over the golden age. You will lead our people back to Ambriel.” Gently brushing aside Sylvis’ hair to cup his bruised cheek, he declared, “You are heaven sent, but the gods show no mercy to hellions. Sentimentality and weakness have no place in their world.”

Sylvis cast a wary glance at his father, his heart heavy with apprehension. Ailog’s unwavering determination and fervor for revenge both inspired and petrified him. A new golden age, the return to the promised land. It all laid on his shoulders. Devilsbane, their clan’s prized spear, passed down to him from his great uncle. A tool to deliver righteous judgement to those who cursed their land.

They had torn his family apart, captured his mother, and unleashed their wrath upon the innocent children of Dusk Haven. Sylvis gazed upon the fields where hellions labored relentlessly, their gaunt forms bending under the weight of their burdens. “No mercy lingers within their hearts,” he snarled through clenched teeth, eyes blazing with anger. “Why should we show them any grace in return? They are nothing but savage creatures, a corrupt breed disgracing the name Fae.” His voice dripped with loathing as he spoke, the bitterness of his words cutting through the air.

“It is with a heavy heart that I entrust this burden to you,” Ailog continued, his voice as comforting as a gentle breeze on a summer day. “I have embarked on this path to secure the prosperity of our realm, our lineage. The throne shall be yours once we have vanquished the Hellion Prince.”

Sylvis clenched his fists, the weight of his destiny pressing down on him like an insurmountable mountain. His father’s words echoed in his mind, the image of the devilish creatures haunting his every thought. “I won’t fail us, father,” he declared. “I will wield Devilsbane and cleanse our land with fire and fury.”

Ailog’s eyes gleamed with pride as he beheld his son, now a warrior poised on the edge of destiny. “You carry a mighty burden, my son,” he murmured, his hand tightening reassuringly on Sylvis’ shoulder. “But I have faith in you. Together, we will bring justice to those who have wronged us.”