Three Demons

Fire and Darkness

The village was ablaze. Screams and the clash of metal mingled with the crackling fire, turning everything around into chaos. She lay among the charred remains of her home, wounded, barely breathing. Blood streamed down her thigh, stomach, and shoulder, and every breath was a pain. Her white dress, once a symbol of her faith, was stained with blood and dirt.

She saw shadows moving in the flames—tall, impossibly slender figures, with horns silhouetted against the crimson sky. Demons. They were here.

She wanted to scream, but she had no strength left. All she could do was wait for her death.

“Another one,” came a voice, low and deep, like a clap of thunder.

One of them leaned over her, his crimson eyes glittering against the embers, his face impassive. He leaned closer, studying her as if she were not human, but something incomprehensible to him.

"She's dying," the second said quietly, his voice lazy and mocking. "Leave her. Her gods have already abandoned her."

“No,” the third one answered sharply. His voice was as cold as a dagger’s blade. “Look at her. She’s still alive.”

"So what?" the second one chuckled.

The first one slowly ran his fingers over her cheek, leaving behind a strange warmth.

"She served the light, but now her light has gone out. Perhaps she will be of use."

She opened her eyes with difficulty, meeting their gaze.

“Kill me,” she whispered, each word echoing with sharp pain.

"No," the first one replied, his voice firm. "You are already dead to your world. Now you will be part of ours."

In that moment, she felt something dark and alien envelop her consciousness. These creatures, who had destroyed everything she loved, had now decided to let her live. But why?

She didn't know the answer, but she was sure of one thing: they saved her not out of mercy, but for a purpose that would become a new chain for her.

Middle Ages.