Demon's Cruel Desire

Chapter 1

Dagon

The raucous noise of mindless chatter and cheering fills the air around me. I’m surrounded by other demons engaging in boisterous celebrations, their cheers echoing off the cavernous walls of the grand hall. This used to be my scene—a loud, wild party where I could drown out the day's shit with drink and laughter. But now, as I stand among the reveling crowd, a glass of dark liquor untouched in my hand, I feel like an outsider in my own skin.

The laughter around me seems hollow, the smiles forced. With every shout and cheer, a small part of me recoils further. Once, these gatherings were a refuge, a place where I could lose myself in the sheer joy of existence and camaraderie. Now, they are a reminder of what I have lost—or perhaps, what I had never truly possessed.

"Hey, Dagon! Lighten up, will ya?" a burly demon with horns curling like smoke shouts over to me, clapping me on the shoulder with a thud. 

I try to smile, to echo the jests tossed my way by familiar faces, but each attempt feels more strained than the last. The weight of my memories, once locked deep within the recesses of my mind, now presses against the confines I have built for them. 

Each cheer from the crowd echoes like the screams from my past, each laugh a mockery of the pain I once dealt with such cold efficiency. I was a monster, and the memories are back as if to taunt me, to drag me back to the demon I used to be. They called me a war hero, but there’s nothing heroic about the shell I’ve become. 

“Hey, Dagon,” a soft voice calls. I turn my head toward the voice, momentarily forgetting that this new version of me exists. 

A matron with long lithe legs, her wings tinted the soft hue of dying embers, playfully makes her way through the crowd and settles onto my lap, Her presence is almost enough to distract me from the brooding thoughts in my mind,  For a fleeting moment, as she laughs and places a flirtatious kiss on my cheek, I almost slip back into the persona that once defined me at these parties—the carefree reveler, the life of the gathering.

"Dagon, aren’t you having fun?" She giggles, sensing my stiffness. Her hand reaches out, boldly tracing the curve of my horns. I flinch, resisting the urge to hurt her. Instead, I grab her wrist noting the contrast of the size of my massive warrior hands around hers.

“What’s going on behind those crimson eyes?” she asks, suggestively settling in my lap making me unconsciously stiffen.

I’ve been on the King’s council since I could remember – well, no. Now I can remember a time before it. Since we came to Galmoleth. Still, I hold a great position among the demon court, so it’s no wonder this matron has chosen me for her night…even if I might not take her. Something I’d never considered before. 

Yet ever since the discovery of Asmodeus’s weakening powers and the existence of Aerasak, the memories of who I am have been slamming back with force.

 I was an interrogator, a torturer, something that had been wiped from my memory in Asmedus’s reign on Galmoleth. As his powers weakened, so did the magic that had taken our memories in the Great War.

"It's nothing," I murmur, my voice barely audible over the din. "It's just... memories."

But it’s a mask, and as her touch lingers, a stark, unbidden image flashes through my mind. A dimly lit room, the sharp scent of fear, a figure begging for mercy that I would not grant. My muscles tense, my grip on the glass tightening until it’s a miracle it does not shatter.

I shove her away with more force than I intend, her surprised yelp lost in the cacophony of the party. The room spins slightly as I stand, the faces around me blurring into indistinct shapes as my heart pounds in my ears. I need to escape, to breathe, to not be enveloped by the darkness that threatens to consume me.

Without a word, I turn and make my way through the crowd, their faces turning from surprise to confusion as I push past. 

As I leave the warmth and light of the party behind, stepping into the cool, shadowed pathways that lead to the training grounds, the noise of the celebration dims. Here, in the solitude of the night, I can confront the chaos within, one swing of the blade at a time.

I've been mostly keeping to myself these days, as the violent intensity of the flashbacks doesn't give me even a moment's peace. I push my long black hair out of my face as I throw myself into physically pushing down the surge of violence the flashback has left me with. 

The muffled chaos of the party still echoes in the distance, and part of me longs to be that guy again—the one everyone on Galmoleth wanted to be. I used to thrive in social settings, but now I've been reduced to this shell, half the demon I once was. I can't seem to reconcile the two halves of myself. It's as if both sides are always at war with each other.

Ever since the fragmented memories of my time during the Great War began to surface, I can't seem to find any of the joy in life that I used to. Each vivid memory consumes me, throwing me back into the gruesomeness of the monster I was, and it reminds me of who I could still become.

I find myself at the training arena, the clang of metal and the grunts from other demons training barely registering as I pick up a weighted training sword. The familiar grip feels cold and alien in my hand, a stark contrast to the warmth of the revelry I left behind. I start swinging, each stroke slicing through the air, each impact against the training dummy a futile attempt to silence the echoes of my past.

A bold demon steps to me with a cocky smile on his face. The simmering rage that courses through me surfaces and I have to push out the darkened edges of my tunneled vision. When he comes into focus, I take great joy in showing him that boasting doesn’t win wars.

Not when he lands on his ass before me in mere minutes. 

He sulks off murmuring something about me needing to lighten up, but it makes no difference to me.

As I resume my training, each memory stands as a fresh image in my mind. The gory reality of my life is a reminder of the monster that still lives within me, and as of right now, I’m trying to keep that side restrained.