OF KINGS AND PAWNS

♚ VIII. OF PRIZES ♙

Ray was pissed.

After years and years of searching, after sacrifice after sacrifice made, after everything Ray had been through, and this utter buffoon was the one who had kept the Crimson Sheath hidden - had kept the thing that would save Ray's life hidden - all this time?

A man - though boy might be a more fitting descriptor of him - who stumbled over his words like a teenager attempting to flirt for the first time was the one who had kept the Crimson Sheath hidden from Ray for so long? This child who had slammed the door in Ray's face like that would stop him was the one who was attempting to steal Ray's life?

It was insulting. It was humiliating. Ray would gut him for this.

He pulled out one of his knives and, in his fury, stabbed straight through the wood of the door.

Ray froze, more out of instinct than anything else. How had he... Ray shouldn't have been strong enough to stab straight through a door like that, especially with the shitty knife he was carrying. He removed it slowly, methodically. He carefully inspected the blade for damage but there was none. It had cut clean through as though the door was made of paper rather than wood. Had it been a fluke or...

Ray stabbed the door again. Once again it went clean through. This time, he was even treated to a soft yelp of terror from the boy on the other side. Not a fluke then.

It must've been the power of the Crimson Sheath. Ray shut his eyes and tried to sense it. He knew it was there. Even if the artifact wasn't tugging at him with a force so strong it felt like Ray's stomach might be torn open at any moment, he would know that the Crimson Sheath was there. His body was reacting to it, to its power.

The Crimson Sheath was his by birthright. Ray had no idea how this boy had gotten his hands on it, but Ray would make certain to remove them for all the trouble he had caused. Ray would make him hurt like Ray had hurt. He would make him suffer like Ray had suffered. He would bring misfortune after misfortune into this boy's life until the both of them died cursing the other's name.

And that was when Ray felt it.

Like the times before, it started as a sensation. Ray could feel the hair on the back of his neck rise. Ray could smell the ashes of a fire that was never lit. Ray could tell it was consuming him. It felt like he was being burned alive and it felt like he had never been alive before this moment. It was horrible. It was wonderful. All Ray could do was grin as the world around him came alive with magic.

Golden sparks flickered along his body. They did not hurt him because they were him. Ray was a creature of fire. He was a being born from the Shadow. He was a despicable and cruel thing that was not meant to be alive and yet his flames stubbornly burned on. He lived in spite of everything and once he got his hands on the Crimson Sheath he would live an eternity more.

"Burn it down," Ray said, lifting a hand - palm spread wide - to the little window with its curtains drawn.

The flames did as he commanded. They rushed forward, eager and hungry things, gleefully lapping at the glass until it cracked and burst from the heat of Ray's flames. Ray burned much hotter than any other flame in this world. He burned much brighter. He burned much fiercer. He was a living sun, sent to burn, burn, burn away this planet and all its sins.

He stepped through the remains of the window. It wasn't that difficult of a feat. His hands melted what remained of the glass without so much as pinkening his skin.

The room was small and Ray's vision was somewhat obscured by the smoke rising from his flames but he could still make out the figure of the boy, small and huddled on the ground and surprisingly not dead. He was just barely clinging to life, though. Life... and a dagger with a red, velvet sheath.

That was it.

"Ah," Ray said. "I knew you were lying." Because that was it. That had to be it. The Crimson Sheath was right there. It was right in front of Ray. All he had to do was bend down and take it. It was within his grasp. He wasn't going to die, he wasn't going to die, he wasn't going to die!

However, as Ray reached down to pluck the Crimson Sheath from the weakened boy's grasp, he found himself unable. He tugged once, twice. He put all of his strength into it, the strength that had allowed him to pierce through doors. Still, the boy's grip did not loosen even slightly. Was this... was this a part of the Crimson Sheath's curse? Could it not be taken from its master while they breathed? Or was the boy simply that strong...

"Release the Crimson Sheath," Ray said, keeping his voice firm and threatening - a tactic he learned from disciplining the boys in his guards - and gaze fixed on the boy. "Or I am going to kill every last person in this inn."

The boy whimpered. It was a pathetic sound, the kind one might expect from a dog after it was kicked, not from a human being. Ray found that he quite liked that sound. After all, he wasn't human. He wasn't a disgusting, lowly, weak creature. He was better than them. He was better than everything in this world.

"Please," the boy said. "Please, please. It's all I have left of them."

"I don't care what sentimentalities the Crimson Sheath holds for you," Ray said, glaring at the mongrel below him. "If you don't release your grip on it right this moment, I will kill you and everyone else here. And then, for my troubles, I think I will hunt down that priest you shared a meal with." Ray's own grip tightened on the Sheath. "So let it go now."

With a small, choking sob, the boy did as Ray commanded.

And just like that, Ray had it. He had the Crimson Sheath in his hands. He finally, finally had it. His grin widened as he pulled the Sheath close to his chest. It was finally his. He felt giddy. All of those years hadn't been a waste. Everything he'd suffered had been worth it. Because Ray had the Crimson Sheath. He wouldn't die. He would be able to live as a demon in their realm forever.

Except... Ray didn't feel any different. In fact, he could feel the magic slipping from his body like oil. It was leaving him. Why was it leaving him? Ray had the Sheath now! It shouldn't be leaving him. And like all the times it left before, Ray felt his body give out. He crumpled to the ground, gasping for breath and choking on his own damned blood.

Shit. Shit, was this not the Crimson Sheath? But- but the artifact- it was dim. Ray could no longer feel its pull in his gut. This... this thing in his hands had to have been the Crimson Sheath. Unless... had Lady Shobu tricked him? Had she been laughing at him as her body was swallowed by his flames? Shit. What was going on?

Ray grabbed the artifact, clenching it in his hand. "Take me to the Crimson Sheath which will anchor a demon to this world."

Just as before, the silver petal lit with a soft blue light that pulsed in its search for the object of his desire. Only... this time the petal turned black. Ray mumbled a curse as he tried to yank the artifact from his neck but it was too late. The artifact withered into ash, just like everything else Ray touched.

"Damn it," Ray hissed.

Had Lady Shobu lied about the artifact being able to be used more than once? Was this the Crimson Sheath and it would just take time for Ray's body to adjust? Or... was there really no Crimson Sheath in this world and Ray was doomed to die no matter what he did?

A bitter laugh tore from his throat as Ray wobbled to his feet and staggered out of the house, taking the knife with him. Even if the rotten thing was just a piece of trash the boy had plucked from the sand, Ray had gone through too much to return it to the boy now. He would keep the blade, like a prized possession, and Ray would find out what had happened to the artifact. But for now... Ray just needed to get back to the ship to lick his wounds.

However, what Ray failed to notice was that when he'd fallen, something had slipped from his cloak and into the hands of the boy.