Shaking Hands With the Devil
/Image by Lothar Dieterich from Pixabay
Very few people can boast they shook hands with the Devil and walked away unscathed.
For me, the Sorcerer of the Caverns was that devil and the most cunning monster I’ve ever known. As the maestro behind the first adventures I would journey through in life, the experiences involving the Sorcerer were the most bizarre and the most incendiary.
After meeting him, my world blew apart. Yet nothing else would have delivered me to the open road that brought me here.
The wisdom I gained in those months would always serve me well.
Perhaps the most shocking lesson I learned was the bondage created through hate. The envy and loathing I had cultivated for the Patron’s Daughter had bound my soul with hers – and with that, my destiny.
Had I known the consequences, maybe I would have tried to find another release for those violent sentiments.
Then again, that may have been impossible.
The Sorcerer of the Caverns understood the ties made of animosity, and used that knowledge to his advantage.
His first promise to me was transformation. The Sorcerer swore he would make me beautiful.
But only if I could get him what he wanted.
Of course, the Sorcerer of the Caverns didn’t want to seduce an ugly peasant like me.
Beautiful and vicious, with a vanity that was both excessive and resolute, the Patron’s Daughter presented an unusual appetite for the Sorcerer.
But the greatest obstacle was her heart.
For centuries, the Sorcerer had ensnared his conquests through those desires that were beyond their reach. Because the Patron’s Daughter had been indulged and pampered all her life, she had no yearning.
With nothing to tempt her, such a girl would never sell her heart to satisfy a forbidden longing.
Image by Oberholster Venita from Pixabay
That’s where I came in.
The Sorcerer wanted to seduce the Patron’s Daughter, but I would have to give up my heart and deliver his conquest.
I laughed in his face.
“That’s ridiculous! I hate her.”
“I know you do.”
“I’m pretty sure she hates me too.”
“No,” the Sorcerer replied. “You don’t matter enough for hatred, Addie. Not in her eyes.”
A surge of ire burst in my breast, and that must have shown on my face because the Sorcerer smiled.
“And that’s what makes you perfect for this, Addie.”
Suddenly, it sunk in that my heart would be the payment.
I had never been one for sentiment, but I resisted.
I declared my heart shouldn’t be necessary since the Patron’s Daughter was the Sorcerer’s choice, and I risked death if anything went awry. I argued the best I could, but I lost.
The Sorcerer did not gain his immortality on his conquests, but lived for centuries feeding on virgin hearts.
Because he needed deception to seduce the Patron’s Daughter, he could never claim her heart after her virginity. Since the Sorcerer could never have the heart of the Patron’s Daughter, he had to take mine instead.
And I was definitely a virgin.
Image by engin akyurt from Pixabay