The whip cracked and sent bones clattering to a cold stone floor. The voiceless dead marched ever closer, torchlight illuminating their empty sockets. Scraping joints echoed down cavernous corridors, broken apart by one man's grunts and shouts. He snapped his whip across another sternum, the animated corpse crumpling to a heap, and snarled in righteous anger. His body ached and dripped with sweat, a day's work spent clearing this abominable castle of its wretched horde. With a sweep of his crucifix, he sent a dozen skeletons back to their graves.
The last bone soldier fell before him, and Allen took a moment to catch his breath. "This godforsaken place is endless!"
He stowed his silver crucifix on his belt, cautiously making his way down the large, opulent hallway. Dusty tapestries untouched by moths or decay showed history long forgotten, broken apart by ever-burning torches and cruel gargoyles. How old was this place? How vast and labyrinthine? He'd passed through sewer, swamp, library and private chambers in quick succession, with no rhyme or reason to their placement. Sometimes he suspected the castle changed: moved its rooms about to confuse him or simply to fit its master's twisted will.
Allen snarled, reinvigorated by hatred. His body may weaken, but his spirit would stay strong. Strong enough to make it to the seat of the darkness' master; the dread lord Tepesh. He owed it to his people, to humanity itself, to bring down the fiend. So many others gave their lives in the attempt. They deserved to know their sacrifices weren't in vain. Adjusting his tunic and belt, Allen said a quiet prayer. God willed it, and it would be so.
He stopped, his lip curling into a frown. As usual, the castle's maze-like structure taunted him; a staircase up into the darkness, another leading down into the catacombs, and a corridor that kept going further ahead than the walls should allow. And not a single hint of what lay beyond any of them.
"Curse this stupid place," He said aloud, "Is there no end to it?"
"Aw, is the little boy lost?" A voice cooed from above him.
Allen turned on his heel, whip and crucifix in hand. "Who's there? Show yourself, demon!"
The voice let out a haughty chuckle, the sound echoing across the vaulted roof. "My, didn't they teach you any manners? That's no way to speak to a lady."
He looked up and spotted a figure sat on a grotesque sculpture. Her legs kicked idly as she ran a finger through her long, snow-white hair, a smug grin plastered across a perfectly sculpted face. Her beauty almost tore his breath away. Almost: pointed ears and thin, black horns betrayed her true nature. What he first thought of as a black leather cloak stretched behind her, revealing a pair of bat-like wings as she fell gracefully to the floor, her high heel clicking on the stone tiles.
"And what manner of monster are you?" Allen asked, taking a step back.
"Such cruel words... how could you call this beauty monstrous?" She ran her hands over her chest, fingertips squeezing icy blue skin. Her enormous breasts threatened to spill out of her leather corset, their efforts thwarted by a single strap exposing cleavage both above and below. Her hands moved lower, over a slender waist and wide hips, and over smooth, shapely thighs clad in black leather stockings. Rivets and scant, decorative silver armour shone in the flickering torchlight.
"You're an abomination," Allen spat.
She put her hand on her hip and glared at him. "And you're a tasteless cretin. We all have our faults, I suppose."
He lashed out with his whip, the tip cracking in the air. The demon leapt back, landing with a dancer's grace.
"My, how forward! We haven't even introduced ourselves yet," she chuckled, "But if that's how you like it, then I'm more than happy to indulge you."
Her hand shot forwards and lightning arced across the room. Allen rolled to the side, the bolt scorching a mark on the stone behind him. He barely had time to stand before the demon hovered in front of him, her gloved hands cupping his face in a lover's embrace. The smell of roses and violets washed over him, her warm breath laden with promises of pleasure and pain. For a moment, his heart stopped beating, and he wanted nothing more than to fall into her arms.
He shoved her aside and shook his head clear. "Stay back!"
"Oh, hush, monster slayer. Why not let Irinsha soothe your tired body?" She squeezed her chest between her elbows, her hands sliding down to her inner thighs.
Allen snapped his whip again and again. Each time the demoness cocked her head aside, the tip narrowly missing her cheek. Irinsha reached out and plucked the tip from the air with casual grace, winding it around her fingers. Allen tugged, but his weapon wouldn't budge. Irinsha giggled behind her other hand and yanked the whip out of his grasp, throwing it over her shoulder.
"I do love your choice of toys, monster slayer." She sauntered toward him. "But you reek of inexperience. Let me show you the pain and pleasure a real mistress can bring you."
"Begone, demon!" Allen said through gritted teeth.
He held his crucifix in front of him, his faith a sturdy shield. Irinsha took one look at the holy symbol, smiled, and grabbed it. Before the shock of her heresy could hit him, another kind of shock doubled Allen over in pain. Bolts of lightning arced from her grip and down the silver. He screamed as every muscle contracted; lances of pain shot down his arm and right to his heart. His knees buckled, but his grip only tightened. Allen collapsed to the floor, and finally, the pain ceased. His whole body twitched and shook against his will, every inch covered in a sharp pain that faded to numbness.
Irinsha tossed the half-melted crucifix to one side. "Pathetic. Not even token resistance. And here I thought you'd be more fun to play with."
She tilted his chin up with her finger, locking her evil grey eyes with his. The smug smirk on her face hurt more than the electricity could. Allen swung his fist at her face, missing by a wide margin. He stumbled back onto his feet, arms raised for another punch. Her heel slammed into his stomach. Breathless, he barely had time to think before her foot crashed into the side of his head, sending him back to the ground.
He pushed himself up with his hands, his body still aching from her lightning. Allen got a single glance up at Irinsha, her leg raised high above her head before it came crashing down. And with it came darkness.
***
His head swam. Flashes of hazy memory popped in and out of Allen's mind. Hands hoisting him into the air. Corridors and archways moving past him. The slam of a massive, dungeon door. Chattering and giggling. Her voice barking muffled orders. And laughter; so much smug, triumphant laughter.
Allen shook his head and blinked. Cold, clammy darkness surrounded him. Metal dug into his wrists and ankles, clinking as he tested his limited range of motion; chains, then, holding his tired arms above his head and his feet apart. He swallowed, his throat dusty and dry. In the distance, things shambled, clunked, and screamed. The still, stale air bordered on suffocating, cool enough to bring goosebumps across his bare chest.
Not dead. Not yet.
The more his eyes adjusted to the darkness, the more he began to fear: barely five feet square of stone walls and floor to call his own, a single iron door in front of him. The kind of cell you reserved for the insane or the doomed. Allen yanked at his chains, testing their strength against his own. No chance of them pulling free. His muscles already ached from the strain, nevermind the dull, lingering pain from the demon bitch's magic.
His ears pricked up; the click of heels echoed from behind the door. His hands balled into fists. A dim, flickering light gradually appeared, bobbing in time with the footsteps. Allen closed his eyes as it drew closer, the change almost blinding. The door creaked open.
