They were standing near the riverbank. Kaprice walked calmly behind the group, her hands clasped behind her back as she listened to the quiet rush of the waterfall in the distance. She thought that maybe she'd like a waterfall in her barony if possible; her platoon would enjoy it. Her gaze fell to footprints embedded in the dirt—a set of smaller, child-sized prints beside larger ones. She could tell the larger one belonged to a female.
When she bent down to touch the child's print, a strange warmth tingled on her fingertips as she traced the outline. Then, bringing them to her lips, a flicker of recognition sparked against them.
"Lord Dazriel's SE," she muttered under her breath. Her voice barely audible over the rushing waters.
Jiron turned as heard her voice, and he walked back towards her.
"How long ago do you think it's been since Lord Dazriel was a child?" she asked him.
"Hmm… centuries, maybe?" Jiron muttered as he comtemplated the question.
"These prints are still here? And they feel fresh at that," she said, her heart skipping a beat. The familiarity of Dazriel's SE lingered on her fingers as she stood and glanced ahead, noticing the prints leading toward the waterfall where they were following Bilbo.
Suddenly, she found herself stepping into the larger set of footprints. A flicker of a vision seized her mind. The group disappeared. When she turned her head, she looked down and saw a child.
He had blonde hair, almost buzzed short, and green eyes wide with excitement—Dazriel, no older than twelve, stood beside her. He looked at her with a softness she'd never seen from him, devoid of the lustful gaze she'd come to expect from the older Dazriel today. His small hand was in hers. His voice was high and hesitant, but sincere, much like a normal child's—an innocent child, speaking of fears he couldn't fully understand yet.
"I've heard love can lead to a pitiful death," Dazriel's voice echoed in her mind, "so I've always been afraid of it… but… I think I like it when I'm with you."
It was strange. She never thought demonic children could have the purity of human children. Even as long as she' had been around demons of different characters, she realized she still had her prejudices. Of course, Dazriel—being a demon of centuries—had lost that purity long before her existence was even fathomed.
"So, Lord Dazriel knew Countess Lirael when they were children," Kaprice muttered under her breath as they continued walking toward the waterfall. Jiron walked close behind her, his hand gripping the strap of his rifle.
"I would assume demons have known each other longer than some countries in the middle world have existed," Jiron said, his eyes half-lidded as if lulled by the serenity around them. "Though, no matter how long they never seem to trust each other the way we might after just five years."
"I wonder if that makes us naive… or the demon's horrible," she said with a sigh, tilting her head to the side. "Though, they seem to desire trust and love too. Sometimes."
"You seem calmer now that you're farther from Count Lirael," he commented with a smile, probably because she was acting somewhat normal again.
"Yeah, I suppose that's why Lord Dazriel wanted to stay as far from Eludiría as possible," she replied to Jiron, who was now standing beside her at eye level.
"Kinda pisses me off that he didn't tell us more about what we were getting into. Regardless, we were going to find out," he said, sounding exhausted.
Soon, Bilbo led them to a statue hidden in a hollowed-out room in the side of the cliff, where the waterfall fell. Kavi and Nyxith paused, looking back at them for instructions on what to do next. She said nothing, staring at the finely detailed stone statue. It bore the features of Dazriel's younger self. In its chest was a hollowed-out area with a small, white, lifeless heart caged inside. It was only half of a heart though.
Her vision shifted again, pulling her into a scene she was completely unprepared for. She saw a young Dazriel again and he stood before the waterfall. Her hands were pressed against the cliff wall while he leaned against it. His face flushed pink with embarrassment, and she found her hand moving down his torso to undo his pants. His frame trembled under her touch.
Kaprice stumbled back as her stomach churning as her breath hitched. Her mind recoiled in horror. The world spun around her while she barely registered Jiron rushing behind her to support her as he caught her under her arms. She gently pushed him away with trembling hands as Kavi and Nyxith stared at her, seeming quite startled that her of all people was screaming in fear.
"Lady Kaprice," Kavi called. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," Kaprice whispered, waving a hand dismissively. She straightened herself and stood firm. "I scared myself, that's all."
They all turned their attention back to the statue. The heart inside had been completely drained of whatever essence it once held.
"This can't possibly be the heart we're looking for, right?" Jiron asked, his voice filled with uncertainty and his hand rested lightly against Kaprice's back.
Kaprice shook her head, not seeming to mind. "No, this heart is too small. But it's Dazriel's," she whispered, a knot tightening in her chest as she gripped the stone cage around it and broke it free.
Jiron shielded the others from flying debris as the statue crumbled to the ground. Kaprice pulled the heart free while she held it in her hand.
"I'm sure he's been looking for this too," she said quietly.
Her gaze turned inward as another vision struck her like a blow to the back of her head. This time, she was staring down at Dazriel and his face flushed with a pleasure that sickened her to her core.
"Stop!" she screamed and she fell backwards onto the cold stone ground. "Don't make me do this!"
Even as she begged, her hands gripped Dazriel's throat with her own voice echoing in her ears—moaning in a way that made her throat burn. She let out another cry as Jiron rushed to her side and pulled her against his chest. She clutched at his shirt while she trembled.
"Lady Kaprice," he said, his voice unsure but steady as he picked her up in a bridal hold and began moving her away from the hollow out side of the cliff.
Kavi and Nyxith quickly followed, with Bilbo rushing ahead back towards the watchtower.
In the vision, her head turned slightly while her gaze fell on a puddle beside them. Reflected in the water was not her own face but Countess Lirael's. Her silver eyes burned with perverse ecstasy and her features twisted in a grotesque smile as she stared down at Dazriel. In the reflection, Countess Lirael plunged her fingers into the boy's chest and yanked out his heart.
"It's alright, Lady Kaprice," Kavi said softly as she reached out to touch her forehead. Kaprice groaned in pain with her mind reeling against the flood of images.
When she opened her eyes, she saw tears trailing down Kavi's face. But something about those tears wasn't right. Kavi didn't even seem to notice them. As Kapri scanned her face, familiar green eyes—Dazriel's eyes—peered through her eyes. He was watching Kapri through Kavi's eyes.
Kapri pretended not to notice she knew he'd only grow angrier if she reacted. A moment later, Kavi's tearful expression vanished and the glint of Dazriel in her eyes disappeared entirely.
"Fuck!" Kaprice cursed as she gripped the heart tightly in her hand. She pushed out of Jiron's grasp and she wiped her eyes as she stomped toward the riverbank. The group hurried to follow her. "I'm going to kill that BITCH!"
Jiron's voice sounded from behind her, full of doubt. "What did you see? What happened?"
"Unsheathe my sword," she demanded while she barely glancing back at him.
Jiron's eyes widened. This time, she wasn't just angry—she was dead serious. "What?"
"Pull it out," she repeated, her voice cold and resolute despite her earlier heartache.
Without hesitation, Kapri slid her nightgown down to expose the sigil of Garoth tattooed on the back of her neck.
"In the name of Great Demon Lord Ose of the Garoth Empire," she invoked as she stared back at Jiron.
Jiron hesitated, but sighed as rubbed the back of his neck before echoing her invocation. "In the name of Great Demon Lord Ose the Blight King."
He placed one hand gently on her throat and the other against her back. As he stepped closer, his touch brushed firmly against her skin as he pressed into the sigil. A strained expression overtook his face as veins bulged on his forehead. With a powerful pull, Jiron wrenched the grandsword from her back. It clattered heavily to the ground, far too massive for him to wield beyond freeing it from her back.
He kept hold of her as she turned to grip the hilt. Her hands trembled with her strength faltering under the weapon's immense weight. Gritting her teeth, she began dragging it behind her as she marched toward the watchtower.
"Lady Kaprice," Jiron called while he watched her struggle. "How are you planning to drag that thing up a ladder to the watchtower?"
"Fuck!" she spat, her frustration boiling over. "Nothing is ever fucking easy in this damn realm!"
Before anyone could respond, the earth beneath them shook violently. From the riverbank, a massive pale hand burst forth and enclosed Kapri, while she pinned her arms to her sides as it lifted her high into the air.
A booming voice thundered around them that shook the very dimension. "YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED, BARONESS KAPRICE SANAA VOSS!"
The ground trembled as Kapri dangled with annoyance etched on her face. She glared at the Librarian's manifestation with a low, venomous voice. "Don't piss me off."