Orcus
Early Morning
The man who had said it was long dead, and Orcus's life here was proof of it. But that made it no less true. Hubris was the greatest chain that tripped those destined to tragedy down the rotten, filthy hills of hell. But those who allowed it to control them were no less than cowards, willingly looping the chain 'round their necks. Was it better to know what invited the fall, and to guide your path away from it like a sheep that scorned the sheppard; or to live and fail greatly, and perhaps rise from the mounds of trash and sin one day and break the chain upon the flensed, scorching knee of reprisal?
It was pointless to offer words in response, because this fight would decide the answer. Aruna did not know it, but she could offer him no greater gift.
The instant the tip of his weapon found empty space, Orcus twisted the haft in his hands and swung in a vicious crescent. The reflexive retaliation filled the space around him with killing will, and anyone who wasn't quick enough, regardless of their intent to make distance or the utter disappearance of their presence, would have tasted the black edge. "And we were having such nice talk," he said. The savage grin that stretched on his cheeks couldn't be helped. "I'll do you one better."
The demon's eclectic magic was everywhere, but not sound, sight nor scent announced it. And yet Orcus heard the voice clearly, and its echo bounced for a sliver of a second off the faded pillars that circled the arena, before disappearing into the deeper shadows between each pair in the misty shades that preceded the twilight that would soon arrive from over the horizon. Like a shark only needed a drop of blood in the ocean, Orcus, swifter and more certain than a bat, only needed that slip.
His wings cut the air with a whistle, carrying him after the hidden Aruna.
