Traveling

The spider lilies bloomed in bright red and blues in the palace gardens.

The sun penetrated through the protection veil that loomed over most parts of the empire. It was not a good day for most demons to set foot out. Many high noble lords preferred the night over the day. Daylight was a curse to them. Their skin burned and took longer to heal. The current emperor with his magic cast a dark veil that activated during the day blocking most of the light in the realm. The demons came to respect him and made him the next emperor.

"You cannot leave the servant uninformed!" his aide opposed adamantly.

"This is why I'm telling you." Zavaikal frowned.

"And tell his evilness that I'm on an expedition in the city."

"B-But your Wickedness!"

"Shut your trap." he cut him halfway and paid no heed to the rest of his protests and opposition.

He dressed himself in a simple olive-green doublet, sandy breeches, and ankle-high boots made of snakeskin. Lastly, he tucked his prized dagger into his belt and donned his black cloak.

"Just that?" his aide inquired.

He looked back to give him a look that meant 'that much'.

"And who are you taking with you?"

"No one." he shrugged and jumped out of the window.

"MY LORD!?" it was all he could say in the short time he was spared.

He shapeshifted himself into Cerebus his hound and trotted among the guards.

"Cero!" a man voiced his nickname.

He turned around and saw Draco coming his way.

He knew his dogs were a little less fond of the vampire since he reeked of the dead. They would often bite his limbs thinking he was a walking dead due to his pale skin and dark circles beneath his eyes. They were however fond of the vampire's wife the rumored beauty who was part American.

He didn't hesitate to bite the vampire's arm as he gave him a rub on the head.

"Did you miss me?"

All he did was bark for an answer and try to walk past him.

"I have fresh child meat for you." he unwrapped a dirty old cloth and laid it open on the green and yellow grass. He saw that there wasn't a variety of raw meat in it.

Human entrails, eyes, lower limbs. But no brain or heart that Cero was fond of.

He sniffed a little and whined.

Embarrassing enough he took a chomp of the choicest part and then looked at him.

"Sorry! They were out of brain and heart this time. I'm sure Zavi has fed you."

-"Zavi!? " he turned his head and snarled.

-"Is that what he calls me in front of others?"

But he didn't waste a chance and slipped past him with a bark.

Draco fell on his bottom thinking Cero would charge at him but opened his eyes and saw Cero reemerging from the bushes.

"That was fast-" he stopped suddenly and took a closer look.

-"Cero has a scar under his chin! " he realized that there was no scar on the Cero he was feeding.

His eyes widened and looked back again.

-"Oh no!" was the only thing he could think of.

Meanwhile, Zavaikal found his way through a hole in the wall of the back garden. He got out with ease and looked up at the sky and back again to see if he was being followed.

-"A perfect day to fly like ravens." he breathed. The second and third transformations were always painful and took a toll on his body until he was used to it. Shapeshifting was an ability like a double-edged sword. Use it after a while it drains more energy from the core. And if used longer than needed the user would lose sanity and live their lives as different creatures. He felt a throb in his body as it transitioned into a raven. The winds blew at the west. He took a flight to join the conspiracy of ravens traveling west. The ravens gawked and squawked at him but didn't dare to reproach him while sensing an ominous aura.

He ignored them and continued to fly. It was a three-hundred-mile journey in a day. Which was a distance covered much faster than an average person. The winds grew colder at a higher altitude and more brutal at every mile crossed. His hound lived in this territory of unwelcoming peaks covered with hostile snow and rough weather that could pierce through the bones. It was a rare occasion to visit the Stygian territory. He couldn't recall the last time he visited him. Mayhaps a decade ago. Erebus was turning one and forty in human years and one and twenty in the demonic year. He was called to the territory when he came of age and to be recognized by all the other nobles and their territories. That was when he chose Erebus the young peasant demon who struggled to secure the most hostile territory under him and became its Lord. However, he barely brought any significant development in that part of the region. Except for exterminating the tribes that had posed a threat to the empire he only provided the land with seasoned soldiers. At least he did not beg for anything from the other lords. But the nobles still like to call him a beggar Lord of an isolated territory. The name Stygian suited it well. His thoughts were greatly interrupted by the clawing wind that tried to rip his black feathers. His golden eyes now begged for shelter. He was forced to change course.