“Friends. My fellow demons. We have entered the Ash, and we have survived. And now, the time has come for you to know who I truly am and why we are here.”
61UNMASKED—UNCHAINED
More than a few heads perked up. Looks of confusion, excitement, and skepticism regarded Vir from all directions.
Balagra was one such, having recently arisen from his well-earned rest. Malik also regarded Vir intently, though his eyes flitted regularly from Vir to the crowd, as if he was as interested in their reactions as much as Vir’s own words.
Were this a couple of years ago, he’d have shrunk back, losing his words, but time and experience had tempered both mind and body, and Vir did none of those things.
“I suppose I should start from the beginning,” Vir said, ensuring his voice carried to the farthest parts of the camp. With almost two hundred assembled, he doubted everyone would hear him. That was alright. What his voice didn’t communicate, gossip surely would.
And there would be no end to the gossip, that was for certain.
“Due to various circumstances, I was not born in the Demon Realm,” Vir began. “Soon after my birth, my godfather was forced to flee with me across the Ash. Through its very depths, to the other side. To the Human Realm.”
Whispers broke out, but Vir didn’t pay them any mind.
“It was there that I grew up, in a rural village as a lumberjack’s son. Oblivious to who I truly was. Events happened to force me out of that cradle, and I had to adapt. Adapt—and grow strong.”
“You returned?” Balagra called out. “Through the Ash?”
“That I did. With the very same godfather who ferried me as an infant. The journey was neither short nor simple. I spent years in this realm, growing stronger. I’ve fought and defeated thousands of beasts, big and small. In fact, I’ve spent more time here than I have in the Demon Realm.”
Prana Current surged through Vir’s whole body, forming an attractive current unparalleled to any he could create in the Demon Realm.
Vir slowly unclasped the cheap iron cuirass he wore, allowing it to fall to the ground. “As for who I am? I left out one important detail. I said I was not born in the Demon Realm, and that is true. Nor was I born in the Human Realm. I was born here, in the Ash. I am Ashborn.”
Prana coalesced around his body like a tornado, reinforcing Prana Armor.
Vir unbuttoned his undershirt, and for the first time in his life, bared his chest to the world, turning slowly so that all could see.
“I am the Akh Nara, and after a lifetime of being away, I have finally returned.”
The jet-black prana compacted, growing denser and denser… Until, suddenly, it manifested visibly.
All at once, black flames erupted to life, wreathing Vir’s body like a cloak. Those nearby jerked away. This wasn’t mere flame, but something far, far deadlier.
The flames continued to mount, and soon, Vir’s body was no longer even visible.
What stood in his place was a demon in every sense of the word—a mythical figure of Ashfire, whose red eyes promised the end of all those he called his enemy.
“I show you this not to threaten or to scare you,” Vir said, his voice altered by the prana flowing through him. “But to inspire you. Because I have fought Wyrms and survived. I have visited Mahādi and met with ancient gods. And I come here to you today to tell you that there is a brighter future for our people. For all of demonkind.”
What greeted him was a sea of wide eyes and nearly two hundred demons who’d become frozen in place.
“Those of you who wish to leave,” Vir continued, “are welcome to do so the moment I find a suitable Gate. I will not fault you. For the rest, stay with me, and I will forge you into warriors the likes of which the Demon Realm has never seen. And then! When no Ash Beast can challenge you, we will march. Together! To take back what is rightfully ours! To reclaim Samar Patag for the Garga! To show the world what our clan truly is!”
Deafening silence followed Vir’s speech, and for the briefest moment, he wondered how ridiculous he must look, talwar extended to the sky.
I failed… He hadn’t motivated them. He ought to have known better—for all he knew, these demons hated him. Resented him for bringing them to this blighted place. For pitting them against the Chitran without a choice.
Vir slowly began lowering his talwar, wondering how he’d extricate himself from this mess, even as his cheeks began to flush with embarrassment.
And then, someone roared. Vir’s eyes snapped to the red demon in the distance, standing with his weapon to the sky. It was Lagen, and he bellowed a guttural battle cry that resonated all the way to Vir.
He was almost immediately followed by dozens. Then more, and more, and soon, the entire camp was standing, raising their blades high in the air.
Chanting.
The words were indiscernible at first, as most group chants tended to be. But slowly, steadily, their rhythm synchronized, their voices amplifying one another with singular purpose.
Vir felt the energy resonate in his throat as they shouted two words, again and again.
“Akh Nara! Akh Nara! Akh Nara!”
In response, Vir lifted both hands to the sky, and the volume redoubled.
Though he didn’t notice it, Vir was beaming.
Father? Mother? Do you see this? This is just the beginning.
Still in a daze, Vir had mobilized the army, ordering them to follow him into the nearby forest, where he promised shelter and safety.
He still couldn’t comprehend it. He’d braced for hatred. For insults and accusations of him abandoning his people during their most desperate hour.
He’d received none of that. The reluctance and fear that had been present in the troops only hours before had vanished, replaced by a sort of reverence. They began nodding, averting their eyes, and some even outright bowed when they approached.
While Vir certainly wasn’t about to complain, he did feel awkward at this change in dynamic.
I suppose I ought to get used to it, as Cirayus said.
“Ahem,” someone nearby cleared their throat, prompting Vir to look up.
It was Balagra and Malik, and neither met his gaze.
“Not you too,” Vir groaned. “I’m the same person I was this morning, you know?”
“I, er, beg to differ, your Eminence,” Malik said, prompting Vir to roll his eyes, “but you are most certainly not. This morning, we’d thought your Eminence was simply another demon. A powerful one, perhaps. But now? How could we possibly treat you the same?”
Vir wanted to rip his hair out. He’d teased Maiya about her title of the Blessed Prophet, finding her situation hilarious. Now, having to deal with it himself, he found the humor completely absent.
“Alright, first of all, you are not calling me ‘Eminence,’ or anything of the sort. Are we clear?”
“Even if we were to ignore that you are the Akh Nara—something that cannot be ignored, I’m afraid,” Balagra said, “as the son of Maion and Shari Garga, you are Gargan royalty. You are quite literally a prince. To refer to you by any other means would be improper.”
“Is that right?” Vir said, growing irritable. “Well, this prince is ordering you to call him by his real name. Your choices are Vir, Vaak, Sarvaak, or Neel.”
Malik and Balagra exchanged concerned glances, clearly wishing to speak their mind, but unsure of whether it would be proper to do so. Despite Cirayus’ warnings, Vir found himself at a loss for how to deal with this situation.
“Look,” he said after a moment. “Formality and honorifics have a time and a place. I’ll not deny you that. But keep in mind that I grew up as the son of a lumberjack. Nobody has ever treated me that way, and it makes me uncomfortable. If I can’t even consult with my closest generals without them stepping over themselves, how in all the realm are we supposed to lead an army?”