Gods and Demons Don't Mix. (Font Demon x OC)

Chapter 7: Dust and Passageways

As we ascended a dusty staircase, I couldn't help but marvel at how strangely majestic the demon looked in this discarded citadel; between the decaying shafts of sunlight and the deepening shadows, the demon's ghostly face gave off a sense of conflicting humbleness and a deeper, much older presence that made the stale air hum with a renewed energy. Here, he was a king by my side, his inky cloak unfurling like the sails on a great ship whose movements were impossibly graceful and powerful, and yet they had the modest restraint of one who has known and served a higher authority than himself. The demon's eyes flicked from the dark corridor ahead to me, the pale blue irises surprised to see me watching him. I flushed a little under my scarf and made a point of looking sternly away at the painted screens that hung torn from the passing walls.

Though the Palace had been treated badly for almost 500 years, I could still see the beauty of it beneath the dust and gloom. Carved mouldings shaped the hand-crafted stone slabs that slotted together seamlessly, great arching pillars drew my eye up the sculpted columns to the ceiling high above, beams spanning out like the branches of an ancient forest. Shuttered windows let only a few desiccated beams of light through to cut through the dusk, fine golden particles waltzing slowly in the muffled silence that hemmed us together as corridors led us one way, then another. Every now and again I could catch the sound of voices echoing down the grimy halls, and the demon would pause to select a route towards them in the half-dark. I trusted his knowledge of this ancient site, following his athletic strides as we passed various unopened doors and shadowy alcoves.

My curiosity peaked as my attention wandered towards them, and I toyed with the idea of sneaking off to explore the uncharted rooms of the Jade Palace; Sandy and I used to do the same when we lived in the sewers. We'd often go adventuring through the catacombic tunnels under our hometown to fill the endless hours between sleeping and hunting for food as children, and even still as adults, we'd get taken by a flight of fancy and rediscover our childhood kingdoms together in our comforting darkness. But we'd never get to do that again. Home was an old memory now, and the nomadic way of life had become the norm for all of us. And looking at our quest ahead, I doubted I would ever get to see that little town again.

A small frown tugged at my lips, my scarf covering my features even as the shadows curled around me in a blanket of cooling darkness that felt strangely familiar. Despite the Jade Palace being the stronghold of the demons for so long, it was, and always had been, the home of the gods; and though these halls held a distant sense of familiarity, I still felt like an uninvited guest among the colossal archways. My eyes flicked instinctively to the demon; his broad shoulders were tense, and I noticed that his long fingers kept brushing against the hilt of his sword in a manner that seemed to be born out of unease. It was only when we reached a large atrium that his hand clasped the black leather tightly.

I glanced up to see Pigsy and Tripitaka arguing over what seemed to be a shattered vase, with the human brandishing an open book, obviously rather passionate over the lost artefact. Pigsy on the other hand seemed more terrified of Tripitaka's scholarly wrath than concerned for the smashed pottery and was apologising profusely. As I crossed over to them, I couldn't help but keep a watchful eye out for Monkey; there was no knowing what he might do if he saw me or the demon.

"Tripitaka!" I called out, voice echoing a little off the bare stone walls. The monk ceased her string of cursing to look over her shoulder, eyes squinting a little in the gloom.

"Zohra? Why are you here? You should be resting." She said book still in hand. As I drew nearer, I noticed that the opened page had a faded illustration of a vase, probably the one Pigsy smashed. The demon followed me at a distance, no doubt scanning the area for any sign of danger, familiar or otherwise.