Standing in the center of the Academy, Aamon closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, listening to the world around him, taking in the fading scents. Although the campus had been abandoned days ago, several lingering aromas stood out to him. The first and most familiar was Prince Asmoday's sweet musky aura.

  If what Adramelech said was true, then the Prince of War was no longer his leader, but a threat to the empire, and threats needed to be extinguished. But Aamon more than questioned the king's sincerity, and a flicker of hope remained in his heart that his old friend had not turned his back on their people.

  Another powerful essence lingered in the air; an earthy scent with hints of oak and moss. To follow that aroma with any ill intent would lead to certain death. And that was the preferable outcome.

  The smoky mesquite of Prince Pyro's essence was also unmistakable to him, as a fellow pyrokinetic. And on that note, he picked up a familiar bouquet of smoke and lilacs that provoked latent instincts.

  But stronger than anything was the malodor of blood and rotting corpses. Following the stench, he found himself at the auditorium. Opening the doors released an overpowering, noxious effluvium of decay, burning his sensitive nose.

  Masking up, Aamon crept into the empty building with slow, deliberate steps to avoid creating an echo. Sunbeams pooled in from skylights, beaming through clouds of glistening dust, one of them casting its light upon a bloody heap in the middle of the room.

  Upon inspection, he found three bodies, one a Satyress with a broken neck, the others mutilated beyond recognition. Briefly removing his mask, he caught the scent of crushed nightshade berries hanging in the stale air.

  Hovering his hands over the corpses, Aamon summoned his aura. The silver swirls danced above the bodies, calling every ounce of essence still lingering within the auditorium before exploding outward in a flash and dissipating.

  A projection emerged, recreating the scene of their demise. Two female demons led a stumbling, obviously intoxicated male into the empty building, promising excitement and pleasure. As soon as his guard was down, their knives were out.

  Aamon watched them giggle and gossip, and when they broached the topic of Keshiema, his ears perked up. But they revealed nothing of importance, only musing on their cruel behavior towards the half-demon.

  They were so caught up in their reminiscence and carving through their victim, they failed to sense the danger lurking behind them. Prince Eurynome took up the satyress and broke her neck. He looked ravenous, but through the body aside, disgusted by it.

  He took his time with the other woman, torturing her slowly. Either she did not know the names of the faun's friends, or she was remarkably strong in her efforts to keep them hidden. Either way, it ended in her prolonged suffering and eventually death.

  "Interesting," Aamon said as he ended the vision. "There's only one kind of creature that can put that look in a Reaper's eyes."

  Finding nothing else worthy of his time, he abandoned the auditorium and started tracking the smoky lilac scent, following his new hunch. His nose led him to the library, the scent crescendoing at an unassuming table.

  He picked up another, fresher scent, faint but recognizable. It reminded him of Bathin, though the aroma was slightly off. 'His son, maybe.' Aamon deduced. 'He is old enough to attend the Academy.'

  What bothered him more was the strength of the earthy aura from earlier and how it mingled so closely with the smoky lilac aroma. Lifting his hands, he performed his recall spell again, concentrating on only showing the desired souls and their interactions.

  Seeing the girl pictured on his orders brought to life in the projection surprised him. The sketch did no justice to either her beauty or her fearful, haunting gaze. It had completely failed to capture her essence, leaving her to look more like a sad doll than a living, breathing, complicated soul.

  When Dásos appeared, Aamon's eyes widened as Keshiema held her sword to his throat, and he made a noise of surprise when the Primordial did little more than laugh it off. Time skipped, and Dásos gave her a book, a gift she seemed to appreciate greatly. When she next returned, they shared a kiss.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  Clearing his throat, Aamon ended the vision. Dásos's involvement meant careful consideration was needed from here on out.

  Ending his search of the library, he followed Keshiema's aura into the Great Temple of the Elders. Using his recall on their throne room confirmed most of his suspicions concerning both Prince Eurynome and Dásos on regards to his target.

  The last place he was going to check was Keshiema's chamber, but after seeing her break down over her lost friend, stand her ground against Merihim, and lose herself in sorrow over someone who betrayed her, she piqued his curiosity, and he needed to know more.

  He followed her essence everywhere, craving the story of her life, and piecing it together bit by bit.

  When he came to the cafeteria and witnessed the countless times she had to fend off attackers and fight for her life, all while the faculty turned a blind eye, he was angry enough to kill. This young woman had already suffered so much before coming to the Academy, and what should have been her salvation became another battle of determination.

  Snapping his finger surrounded his fist with flame. Though not as powerful as a Fire-Daemon, he could at least do this much. At this point, he was not just blindly following orders; This school deserved to burn.

  The village in the Eastern mountains was abandoned. Half-eaten meals sat on tables, only necessities were missing, doors were left unlocked. Ronové yawned, growing bored. Leaving another vacant home, he continued down the dirt road, listening carefully for any lone soul. Nothing.

  'Adramelech certainly knows how to give a head start,' he scoffed. It had been three days since the humans attacked; Ronové wondered what made the king think they would still be here.

  'Fuck it. He said to burn it all.' He slammed the bottom of his staff into the ground, sending out a powerful shockwave. Opening his eyes wide, his crimson aura circling in a vortex around him, he chanted loudly, "I ness toran yi joura, pair etas for korra co Tavera. Rite ban rixan que for hold, I call kaypor fawn bar donna."

  Shadows crawled out of the soil, their movements jarring, their bodies contorting into unnatural positions. He held in his command nearly four hundred souls, each collected in the moment of their death. Half of those were Fire-Daemons, the other Water-Daemons.

  The Fire-Daemon spirits scurried in and over every building; everything they touched sizzled and smoked before bursting into flames. The Water-Daemon souls surrounded the village, protecting the mountain forests by extinguishing any errant embers that attempted to wander past the village edge.

  In less than twenty minutes, nothing was left but smoldering piles of ash.

  Naberius frowned. Nothing was left for him. His men had made it to the settlement ahead of him. He should have waited to have his meal or prepared something he could eat on the move. Using his power on an empty stomach made him weak, so eating before a mission was necessary.

  Not that it mattered. His men said the camp was already abandoned when they arrived. Looking at the schoolhouse, he grimaced. "Such a primitive structure," he spat. "No wonder humans are so easy to manipulate. They can't even build a strong foundation for their youth. Pitiful creatures."

  "Ambush!" A soldier cried from the woods, followed by the cries of battle. Gunshots rang through the forest, sending birds flocking into the sky. Swords clanged, and a perfume of fresh blood filled the air.

  "Burn the forest." Naberius commanded.

  "But air, a wildfire this time of year could destroy half of Denim!" His second in command protested.

  "You heard me! I said burn it!" Naberius's eyes glowed with his sickly yellow aura as he used his persuasion on the soldiers before him. Quickly retreating, the soldiers got to work lighting torches.

  A gunshot roared, and Naberius fell, clutching his face. "Disgusting beast!" He screamed at the human marching toward him.

  Tobias pointed his gun at the demon's head and pulled the trigger. But the pistol jammed, saving Naberius from shameful death. The injury and rapid blood loss made using his persuasion impossible, and Naberius was not a fighter, but he drew his shortsword all the same.

  Discarding the firearm, Tobias drew his sword. He knew relying solely on his gun over the years was a terrible idea, but he could not bring himself to regularly practice his swordsmanship. The two were equally terrible, their swings sloppy and uncoordinated.

  But where Naberius was an academic, spending his days reading and teaching others how to play mond games, Tobias was a rebel leader, constantly pushing his body to its limits. Even so, he was only human, and when it came to brute strength, Naberius had the upper hand.

  The fight could have gone either way. And as the wildfire blazed around them, the temperature growing increasingly unbearable, sword met flesh in a sickening thwack. The soil, thirsty from the long, dry summer, quickly soaked up the spilled blood as Naberius fell to his knees.

  But Tobias did not walk away unscathed. Naberius has managed to land several shallow hits. With a shrieking whistle, Tobias's horse sprinted to him, and he mounted the beast to make a quick escape. A few soldiers tried to make chase, but his steed was far too quick for them to catch up.

  The fire was already raging, and there was nothing he could do for the souls still inside the forest. All of his men knew the woods well, and he hoped they could make it out alive. Thankfully, less than twenty had stayed behind with him, as he had commanded most to protect the children and noncombatants.

  "Please, please make it out." He prayed, knowing he would grieve every soul lost through fire and conflict.

  I ness toran yi joura, pair etas for korra co tavera. Rite ban rixan que for hold, I call kaypor fawn bar donna. = I call upon my legions, rise from the depths of hell. Raze this village to the ground, I want nothing left but ashes.

  ?? The Fall Of The Sea ??

  by JollyUmbrella

  On a small boat in the middle of unknown waters, a boy awakens with no memory of who he is or why he is at sea.

  What To Expect:

  - Complex character dynamics

  - Emotional backstories and arcs

  - Thoughtfully crafted world with rich culture and history

  - Powerful characters

  - Slight hints and possible romances

  - Awesome fight scenes

  - Long, plot-driven story with narrative twists

  Upload Schedule:

  Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday, Sunday. UTC-5

  [SPECIAL] November 2025: Daily

  Accolades:

  [Participant in the Royal Road Writathon challenge]