Writing Prompt • leave1 write1

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She was darkness incarnate, despite her crown of sunshine locks. She was steel and blade, despite the silky feel of her skin and the softness of her feminine form. She came with the dark clouds and thunder, as if she was part of the furious storm that was building... and she was as fierce and cold as the icy blue of her eyes that flashed between her flaxen lashes. Amalie was trailing a demon through this baleful forest. One who held quite a bit of power and had destroyed more than a few pure souls to be here on this plane with so much power. The great beast stank, and she cursed her unholy blood for being able to smell it. The monster was so terribly disgusting that her grimace deepened even further.

The demon was a long way from it's place behind the gates of Acheron. Amalie's eyes narrowed at the beast's twisted horns and it's rotten, broken fangs. To her, that damnable thing was but a piece she wanted to own. The destructive force such a creature could wield was truly awesome, and she wanted him for her arsenal. This demon, more specifically, a Fifth Circle Guardian, usually resided in the most wrathful parts of hell... but why was it here? Had it been summoned? She saw no mark upon it that claimed ownership. It seemed to be running free, filling the world with rage and wanton destruction. Curiously, it seemed interested in this little patch of boring forest.

It bellowed at something, unaware of her presence at this moment. The young witch with the luminous strands took offense at this, and she began to roll up the black sleeves of her hooded, zippered sweatshirt. Hellish syllables began to fall from her lips, her sentences taking the form of the language of Mortis, the Whispers of the Dead. As she spoke, powerful notes mixed in with her own voice, multiplying the sound and reverberating each word over the thunderous bedlam.

"Anyat al'yen zanyatæ kasva yak'keht...

Look at me you bastard, I am your collar and chain!" 

Her outburst was loud and aggressive, and it came in the form of her own natural, lilting voice. Chains burst out of the ground, as if called from the depths of hell itself, and they shot towards the large demon. Each rusted, spiked oval looked ancient and glowed with a dim, orange light like the metal was super-heated. The huge, merciless links ended in cuffs ringed with spikes that pointed inward into the body of whoever wore it, and the chains themsves seemed to hunger for the demon. The monstrous chains surged forward and wrapped around one of the demon's arms. It began to howl in opposition and pain. Suddenly, it's gaze snapped towards her, it's rage intensified, and it wheeled around to swipe a plated, spiked tail at her.

"Vi reysa ak'kir, threyta."

She laughed at it's feeble attempt to wound her, a large whip appearing in her hand at the culmination of her command. She slung it towards the beast as she evaded it's tailswipe, the tip of the whip being a vicious, metal weight with blades on all sides. The bladed tip lashed the demon's ribs, causing it to exude a great, horrible scream out into the grey sky. It backed up, and Amalie took the ground that it had forfit, her whip cracking. The chains were finding various parts to entrap, and soon three of it's legs and it's lashing tail were encircled by bonds of pain.

"You're mine." She smirked, arrogantly. The collar started to close in on the demon's neck but it began to change it's form. The skin, if you could call such a wispy, blackened substance that, began to boil and the fire in it's malicious eyes burned brighter as it's rage increased, tenfold. The roars emitted from it's mouth were like the sounds of the dead all screaming at once from inside it's pitch-dark innards... The chains hitched, something was not right.

The demon thrashed against it's bonds, black ichor leaking from it's wounds. Where it's blood fell, the Earth became poisoned and the plants died away. She watched a few drops of unholy blood roll down an invisible object, but Amalie knew better than to investigate it now. She focused on the task at hand, just as the demon of wrath broke free from it's chains. The entity wailed angrily, it's rage had built to an unfathomable level, causing it's power to surge. 

The demon swiped at her with it's multiple, clawed limbs. Nimbly,  Amah dodged the first one, and the second, but the third swipe clipped a bit of her black-booted foot. She came crashing to the ground and then rolled to a stop. The platinum crowned girl pushed herself up, quickly, and dodged another flurry of strikes before she jumped away from the creature completely. It's gaping maw opened again for another scream, just as Amalie began to laugh at it. 

"You've made a grave mistake, my friend." Her laughter was dark and mischevious, curling into the night and becoming lost against the brewing storm. On her arms and cheek, a few lacerations leaked cerise drops of blood. The blood began to collect and take shape as Amalie's voice gathered for another powerful incantation.

"Dest'a nyat azurath threyd destaftho ænsha vicorus kesten'sche metrioz .." 

Her blood condensed into thin needles hanging in the air, and with a raise of her voice, they shot towards the demon. Each sanguine barb burned into it's flesh, causing it to turn pounds of angry demon into what looked like a mixture of ash and salt. Limbs melted away, parts of it's body were rendered stiff, and when it tried to move them, they crumbled and fell to the ground like snow. Amalie took care not to damage it's head or too much of it's torso. It wasn't destroyed, no, merely unable to fight. The demon let out a baleful cry, it's body reduced to a pile on the forest floor.

Walking closer, Amalie kicked at a pile of ashes that once formed one of it's great, shining horns. She was... unsympathetic. "Not so tough now, are we?"

She laid her hand upon it's forehead and a pentagram appeared as she whispered an incantation to bind the demon to her will. What was left of the Fifth Circle Guardian was bound to a black hematite crystal, and it's physical form dematerialized to fit, forever entombed inside as her slave. It had killed and infected countless humans to get to this spot, and she wouldn't let it slip back to the warmth of hell without working off that debt. "Now..." The mischevious woman had a bad habit of talking to herself, "..what's behind door number one?"

The arrogant, lanky witch who was tall for her age, walked over to the magical ward that she could feel surrounding this place. Having experience with all manner of magics, both dark and light, she recognised this feeling and the other subtle clues that had given it away. Curious as to what the demon had wanted, Amah tested the barrier. 

"Thryykaa!"

She shouted at once, shoving her hands into the stinging, invisible wall. It snapped and resisted her presence, easily, rebounding her with aggressive force. The skinny figure was thrown to the ground. With furrowed brows, the girl surged back up again with another, more potent spell on her tongue.

"Skell vleka'spvall!"

Dark magic began to swirl around her arms as she tried, again, to break the ward. She thrust both fists inside the mirror, forcing herself to stay on her feet as the barrier stood strong and snapped against her skin. Amah growled, her anger surging. "Grrrraaah, what the fuck is in here?!?"

As the words left her mouth, she was thrown into the dirt again.

Amalie panted. She was tired and wounded from tracking and binding that wrath demon. She leered at the barrier, rubbing one stinging hand against the other. A string of curses spewed from her mouth as she yelled at the barrier.

"You piece of shit, I'll shatter you like fucking glass! I'll--" furious, stupid words exploded from her mouth and her lip pulled back from her teeth in disgust. Her head reeled with rage, blinding her to all but her most brutish of desires. To break things, to smash them to little pieces and laugh at the discord.

Amalie suddenly realized that she was uncommonly angry, shouting and gritting her teeth. She scoffed, wondering how she'd been stupid enough to miss this building wrath that was not her own. The young woman looked at each of her wounds, inspecting them closely for something she hoped wouldn't be there.

After a moment's inspection, she took a deep breath. None of the wounds looked infected with wrath's poison, they all oozed normal blood. The girl dusted her jeans off... and then she saw it. A tear in her boot where the demon had clipped her ankle. The black leather hid the ichor that was seeping from her skin there, the venom the demon had hid in it's claws... it's gift to it's new mother... 

"Sh...shit..." Her whisper was lost amid the tumbling leaves as she fell onto the ground, unconscious and poisoned.