The mark burned like a hot brand, scorching in his skin beneath obsidian plated armor. The Demon Lord reached up toward it, digging his claws deep in the back of his neck, as if to control the pain, to will it away by pure force. When he lifted his hand away, black blood stained the tips of his sharp claws as the mark continued to throb. Unsurprisingly, it was still there.
The sensation was stronger than ever before and -that- person's words rang in his ear. He knew it was time. In the corner of his eye, the other demon in the room was jotting down notes with a feathered quill, yellowed parchment crinkling beneath the strokes. He raised his head, frowning. "Is everything alright my Lord?"
"It looks like the so-called legendary hero has finally made an appearance," the Demon Lord said, the side of his mouth twisting upwards in a smirk. He stood up from the regal throne and paced to the balcony covered with the vines of blackened thorns and deep scarlet roses overlooking the Land of the Lost. He noted the rarity of the full moon's light, as it shown down from the sky, and illuminated the top of the Rotted forest below.
The other demon nodded, understanding drawing upon his sharp features. "Are we executing the plan as discussed?"
"Bring him here first," the Demon Lord commanded. "I would like to peer upon the face of the man who supposed make me breathe my last." He looked sharply at his attendant, yellow eyes flashing. "Bring him here whole. If you bring me another captive missing more limbs than he started out with, I'll be taking that other eye of yours."
"Yes, my lord," Balthur said unfazed. "Do you require anything else?" Though his features were still, his lord didn't miss the way his fingers twitched ever so slightly.
"No. You are dismissed."
When the Demon Lord was left in silence, he stared at his repulsive gray claws and clenched them until his palms hurt.
The Game has begun.