Infurno

Scars from the past never fade. They always come back in ways you don't want it to. No one is safe from it. Haunted by their past from ten years ago, a group of unlikely people come together, intertwined into the fabric of a twisted fate. They buried those memories behind them, trying to move on in their lives. But, what happens when those memories return? Plagued by secrets, memories, and monsters from the past, can they survive? Can they remain who they are? Can they remain sane? Can they remain comrades? No one is safe when your demons come out to play. There is no happy ending in this tale.

This somewhat dark and edgy story is based on my hectic D&D campaign I played. This a grim dark fantasy story that blends a plot-twisting drama with intense action. I hope that you enjoy this story. Hopefully, this will turn into a trilogy.

Hiding in the Shadows

I began to curse lady luck. If I wasn't summoned by Astaroth, I would have been fine. I clenched my fists, ready to fight my way out. A quick idea flashed across my mind. I raised one of my hands, a fireball blazed to life. With the other, I cast a quick prestidigitation to turn the fire black.


Astaroth smiled. "Good, exactly why we need you. BRING HER FORWARD!" His commanding shout startled everyone in the room.


From out behind the ring of spectators, a woman was dragged forward, dried blood clinging to her clothing. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was shallow.


"Sacrifice her. Add her soul to the sea of energy. We are close to breaking free once again." Astaroth commanded. I could see malicious excitement play across his face. He was anticipating the second coming of the demons, of the apocalypse.


With what little strength she had left, the woman looked up at me.


"Please… Help me," she barely croaked out. Bruises covered her face, a tell tale sign of the torture she was put through. I looked at her, trying to disguise the pity and revulsion I felt at what I was about to do.


I looked at her, channeling the anger I felt for Astaroth. The feeling sparked something in me, like fire to dry tinder. I hated her at that moment, her and Ash, for forcing me to do this.


"Do it," Ash said reverently, his eyes lit up with glee, "end her." I turned to Astaroth, knowing that my twisted expression looked every bit like Dracoth's, and smiled.


"Of course." I said, my voice so full of hatred. The girl, she looked so scared. But I hated her. I hated her as I should have hated Astaroth. If only I did not have to do anything!


I had seen Dracoth do it many times before, and I felt exhilaration and power and fire rushing through me. I thrust my hands at her, and instantly felt a pull on something deep inside me. Black fire blossomed out of my palms, and she knew no more. The fire died as she did, and I turned to Astaroth. He sighed and waved his hand in the direction of the nearest exit.


I walked out, the primal joy coursing through my veins. When the light of day touched my skin, I realized what I had done. Why was I happy that I killed her?


Dracoth whispered in my mind, "Because you are me. And we liked it."


No, no, no, no, no. This is not happening. I am in control. I will stay in control.


"You won't control me. I am better than you!" I shouted into the sky. The only response I got was a low chuckle that resonated in my mind.


With that, I sprinted back to the capital. I needed to find my friends.


The Dash for Hope