Demus: The Prince And The Milkman

Prologue

The night was almost perfect for a pair of runaways.

The sky was so dark it looked like someone had spilt an inkpot on top of the heavens, the clouds a dark purple-blue colour that resembled grotesque bruises, disguising the sharp crescent moon. The stars were like freckles, pinpricks of lights that scattered across the melting pot of colours that was the sky. As a result of the thick clouds, there was almost no light that shone down on the castle grounds.

Logan wondered if this was good or bad luck as he tied his cloak around his neck.

After all, the sky's darkness would hide him from view, but there was no doubt that it would obscure his own vision as well. And the sentries that were posted around the castle grounds had much better eyesight than humans, which Logan had tested before he had made up the plan. He grimaced as he looked out of the arched window-way, letting his eyes pass over the grotesque demons curled like oversized snakes around the guarding posts.

Their eyes were a sickly yellow colour, their pupils glowing a bright, unnatural white that matched their forked tongues. Their bodies were thick and coiled dangerously, two frontal limbs clutching the posts and digging deep claw marks into the cobblestones. Logan took a deep, steadying breath as he reminded himself of the plan, which would keep him from the vision of the serpentine sentries.

He slipped out of his room, carrying nothing in his hands. He wasn't taking anything with him except for his cloak, a pair of climbing shoes, and black gloves. He also had his dagger with him, tucked into one of the interior pockets in his cloak, which was already up and draped over his head to hide him. Moving silently through the castle hallways that he knew so well, he padded to his brother's room and rapped silently on the thick, wooden door.

Emile poked his head out. He was wearing his own cloak, which was a dark pomegranate-pink colour instead of the deep midnight blue that made up Logan's. His eerie silver eyes glittered in the lamplight as he gazed up at Logan, catching the expression that passed between them. He nodded and stepped out of the room, as quiet as a shadow.

Although they were biological twins, they looked so different that almost nobody could tell that they were even related. Emile had inherited honey-blonde hair that draped in soft, bouncy curls over his pale, heart-shaped face, while Logan's hair was dark black and less curly than his brother's. Emile's pale gold eyes were almost polar opposites of Logan's raven-black ones, though both colours shone and sparkled strangely in the sunlight.

Logan cast one more glance around the hallways and then followed Emile, his night-dark cloak swishing around him until he looked like a smudged shadow on the wall. The two were silent as they ran through the familiar maze, each one trying as hard as they could to not make any noise.

Their feet hit the floor with soft thuds, not nearly loud enough to alert the sentries but just loud enough to make Logan panic slightly. He shook the threads of anxiety away, focusing on the task that was in front of them: getting outside. Emile turned sharply into a tighter hallway, but it was more of a passage than a hallway. It was usually reserved for archers, with small glass-less windows called arrowslits lining the cobbled walls. The floor was made of dull tile, the stones in the wall so rough and the hallway so tight that Logan could feel where the cobbles were rubbing sharply at his arms and hands.

Still, he ran, until he was in the lead and grabbing Emile's hand so that his brother didn't slow down. He glanced back at Emile, whose face was flushed a bright pink colour from running so far so fast, but still, the other boy refused to gasp for air. No noises.

Logan's chest was also burning from the exertion, his legs aching, but he ran as fast as he could. Though he had hated being in the castle for so long, now he was thankful that he knew it as well as he did.