Blood-Forged

“Has it been like this since Ves’hil’n died or is this because of the seal weakening?” I muttered, my eyes constantly roving around, peering at each person we passed for seconds at a time. And there were people to see, unlike the last place. The town was bustling. People were everywhere; walking, running, talking, shouting, playing. It was lively, the complete opposite of the last town. When people caught me staring at them, they glared back or looked away with furrowed brows.

While my head was turned away, Piercing Gale dropped an arm around my shoulders, holding me tight against his body, “I think you’ve been in this body long enough to act like a normal human being.” Piercing Gale hissed through smiling teeth.

I turned my head to him, leaning as far away as I could while still in his grasp, “the demon could attack at any moment.” I tried to keep my voice quiet, a harsh whisper that gradually got louder.

Piercing Gale pulled me right back in and tilted his head down until we were practically nose to nose. With his eyes darkening even as his mouth kept smiling, he said, “and you scaring the locals and drawing attention to us will not help us deal with it.”

Death-Bringer threw her arms around the both of us, our heads knocking together, Piercing Gale’s mouth and nose smashing into mine. “Fuck!” I shouted, breaking away and covering my nose as I felt a few drops of blood fall from my nose. Piercing Gale snickered. “Bastard.”

Crouching so that he could stay under Death-Bringer’s arm, Piercing Gale smiled until he squinted, “none of us really have parents so doesn’t that make us all bastards?”

“Don’t drag me into this.” Death-Bringer deadpanned, “also neither of you are helping anything. Bloody stop being paranoid. Gale stop antagonizing him.”

Piercing Gale stood up straight, Death-Bringer’s hand sliding down his back and eventually falling to her side, “I’m hardly antagonizing him,” he scoffed.

“And I’m not being paranoid if we really could be ambushed at any time.” I crossed my arms over my chest, then immediately uncrossed them to gesture at Piercing Gale, “and he’s still wincing in pain every time he thinks we aren’t looking-”

“-I am not-”

“So I think I’m entirely justified-” I was cut off by a person walking in between me and the others, the person running directly into my outstretched arm, knocking me off balance.

I stumbled then righted myself, barking out a “hey!” at the retreating figure.

At first, I thought they were wearing a white silk veil but when the strands split as they stopped, I realized it was actually impossibly straight and smooth white hair. The person turned to face me with a cold, dark gaze.

A familiar pair of dark red beauty marks; one under their left eye and the other by the right corner of their mouth. Thin arched brows, a prominent widow’s peak, and lips so red they seemed stained with blood.

... It was his face.

Valeron, the Demon Lord.