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The War Caster
Non-human alter
A feral sound slashes through my throat at the humans who surround me with puzzled looks on their faces.
I’m in a dungeon. A fortress. Bars and charcoal ceilings. Flashing lights. Broken music. Sour stench of sewage, captivity, and dried blood. My narrowing eyes scan the cage swiftly, taking in every detail. Trapped. Bars. Cage.
The humans back away, shifting to the other end of these bars as I readjust my stance to crouch on all fours. My dragon form would terrify them. My reptilian eyes. My thick, black claws. But they know not that I have come to protect them. To guard them.
The male with bronze skin and eyes the color of gemstones calls me by my name. The name I have known for thousands of years. Ancient and heavy on any human tongue. I tilt my head in his direction, bowing my head slightly to reveal to this male human that I am no threat. He holds out one of his two hands, revealing to me the face of his palm. The delicate crease lines. The short nails that are not lethal the way my talons are. I sniff it, leaning forward to push my face against his fingers.
As I scan their faces once more, my sight clouds over, blurry and without detail.
~
Ralek
Emperor of Snakes
Non-human alter
This place…
The smearing black grittiness underfoot. The smoky atmosphere. The scent of burning souls.
This place reminds me of home.
But my dissociation is slow. I come in and out of consciousness. Blinking, swallowing, looking around with heavy lids.
As I come to, I grin at the alert faces before me.
“Hello, children,” I purr with ophidian excitement. How long has it been since I’ve lurked around young mortals? My last memory of merging to the front was around Masten and Absinthe. My soul reason for splitting.
“I think they’re rapid cycling,” the one called Warrose says to the other confused faces. I’ve known this male since he was much smaller, much less carved like a stone statue. Does he remember me? How many human years have passed?
“Where am I now?” I ask, piercing him with my eyes that shine like two ruby stones smoldering from the heat of hellfire.
“Vexamen Prison. We’ve been captured,” the brawny male responds.
“No Absinthe?” I inquire with a wicked tilt of my lips.
The large mortal studies me with narrowing eyes and a straightening back. His hazel gaze sweeps over my hands, the curling of my fingers, my relaxed stance.
“You’re Ralek, aren’t you?” He places a steady hand on the shoulder of the sickly female lying next to him. “The Emperor of Snakes.”
“Uh, that doesn’t sound good,” the blond, pretty male mutters, rearing his head back.
“He’s a demon alter. It’s usually not all that pleasant,” Warrose responds.
“I knew you’d recognize me, Warrose,” I say in an eerie, demonic voice. “Have you seen your family since they abandoned you, child?”
His upper lip curls. It was always so easy to get under his skin. But I’ll admit. He was never my concern or my usual target. Absinthe and Masten have always held the cake for my regular triggering.
“Why the need for a demon alter?” the sickly mortal girl asks. Her gaunt face is ashen and covered in an oily sheen of sweat.
“Absinthe was a cruel and religious tormentor to us as children,” Warrose explains, like he has a bad taste in his mouth. “After she tried performing exorcisms of Kane, calling him evil or a demon, Ralek was split.”
“I’d like to see her again.” Pleasure swirls under my scaly skin at the thought of taunting her with my fiendish threats.
