Chapter 1

I stared into the eyes of the witch, seething at the spark of glee that emanated from her white irises.

She tied me up the moment she saw me walking around her dominion. 

We were in the bridge between realms, which meant I died somehow. The thing was, I couldn't even remember how I got here.

“Amaranta, that name becomes you,” She continued stabbing everywhere she could, not leaving me any room to recover the damage she inflicted. “How ironic you would end up here of all places?”

She wielded her scythe.

“Kill me now, that is what this place is designed for, isn’t it? To torture the souls of the lost?” If only my limbs were free, I would not hesitate to tear her to pieces. My claws ached for her blood.

“Ah, ah, ah,” She wagged her finger in front of my face. “I only brought you to the Eternal Prison for a measly chat.”

I laughed, spitting blood out of my mouth, “You really expect me to believe that, witch? I may have died a fool’s death, but that doesn't make me an idiot. I wasn't born yesterday.” I snarled, struggling against the vines that held me to her magic.

“Yes, but do you truly remember your death, Amaranta, the Unfading One?”

My face fell, and then contorted into pain.

Another stab.

“Y-you expect me to believe that?”

“Of course, I was the one who took away your soul.” She smiled, though it didn't meet her eyes.

My eyebrows scrunched together, canines elongating; I was going to kill her one way another. I wouldn’t mind dying again just to bring her down with me. I struggled against the ropes holding me back from ripping her throat out.

Growls and profanities came out of my mouth, cursing the witch to hell. Ironically, in some way, we were already here.

“There’s no need to get all pissy, young demon,” she sneered. “It was inevitable that I would get my hands on your soul. I am Idoya, the witch, after all.” She clucked her tongue, false pity resonating in her eyes. ”You made it way too easy for me, dying like that.” She extended out her hand, a light orb rested beneath her palm.

My soul.

It was faint, but I could smell my scent on it.

I felt the ropes dig into my skin as I struggled to break free, but I didn't care. “Give it back! Or, so help me I’ll…” My words fell short for the witch was in my face, glaring into my eyes. She didn’t hesitate to stab me again with that damned scythe of hers --- her sadistic way of attaining pleasure. 

I hissed, the pain was noticeable this time. The wench stabbed it deeper in my body, making sure I felt it.

I tried to look away, but I was glued to watch what she was envisioning inside my mind. Her other way of tormenting her game.

Warmth was transmitted. I felt at peace, but it felt so very wrong at the same time -- like I was accepting her infiltrating my personal space. After she finished, she looked away from me; whatever she did couldn’t break through my mind barrier. I smirked, confident, but my face fell as her magic was working. My head slumped, clouded with a vision of my demise. I tried to fight it, but my head throbbed every time I resisted.

My eyes fell to the floor, a mini-movie playing inside my head.

A human toddler came into view. The boy wasn’t more than a few years old, bright hazel eyes shone with curiosity at everything he saw. I could see bits and pieces of him walking around in denim overalls, holding on to objects to stay upright. He was just learning to walk, I assumed.

I was confused. What was the witch trying to tell me with this?

The boy continued to walk around, playing with his toys, eating his baby food -- the baby food matting his brown hair together. Strong, delicious arms were in my line of vision, a man scooped him up, cooing at the boy with loving words. His voice sent tingles throughout my body. I had never felt this way in my thousands of years to roam the worlds. It felt strange. I could only see the man’s broad back, accompanied with broad shoulders. I licked my lips, begging for a taste. The image faded and it left me panting.

“That is your mission. If you want your soul back, you’re going to have to work for it.”

I shook my head, clearing the dizziness. I looked up at her, registering her lean form. Her face was framed with silver locks, cold eyes meeting my own.

“You want the boy? What for?”

She raised a silver brow. “For his soul, of course. I’ll tell you the rest after you accept, though, you have no say in the matter.”

It was my turn to raise a brow. “What’s in it for me?”

“You get to have your soul back, and more. So much more, Amaranta. I could make your deepest darkest desires come true,” her eyes glinted, a sign telling me to not defy her.

She knew.

I couldn’t miss the way she emphasized more. The witch was up to no good. She was always bad news. I heard many stories about Idoya, the witch. Those who lived to tell tales were one lucky bastard, but they come out insane and too far gone for anyone to take them seriously. 

“No. I won’t do it, witch. I won’t be one of your puppets that you think you can control.” I don’t know where this courage came from, but I was trusting myself with these words.

Her face stayed emotionless, the ropes ripped from under me, guaranteeing my freedom. This could be a trap, but I wasn’t going to argue my one and only route to escape her realm.

The Eternal Prison was no place for this demon.

I landed softly on my feet, dusting myself off. I looked around for my sword. It was sharp and massive, so I couldn’t miss it.

“Looking for this?” appeared the witch out of thin air, holding my old companion. She was leaning on it like it was hers for the taking.

“You have till the count of three to let go of my weapon.”

I started counting, but darkness invaded my senses. Another vision played in my head. This time it was of my death. I had tried everything to escape from those vermin called humans. They were the sole reason why I would travel to other places they could never imagine existed. I could feel the emotions of the moment it happened. I could see my head under the guillotine. The townspeople running a muck, stabbing anywhere on my body they could with whatever they could get their hands on. All throughout my torture show, the guillotine was making its way down towards my neck. No wonder the witch kept torturing me in that way. It was to rekindle the memories of  my death. I was bombarded with sharp objects waiting to gash at me or penetrate my flesh. My body was unrecognizable by the time my neck was decapitated from my body. I remember squirming, my body reaching for the threads of my head. But, one of the townspeople was smart. They took my head to a nearby river, exorcised the water, and threw it in there with a rock attached to one of my ears. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t feel. The pain was too much to bear.

“Stop,” I begged. “Make it stop!” I cried.

Everything made sense. I didn’t die instantly. My death was painful. I snorted. Fitting for the Unfading One, I guessed.

I ended up in this forsaken realm -- the Eternal Prison.

“Amaranta. I will only make it stop unless you agree. If you choose the latter, then it’s an eternity of these sensations piercing your body every moment you are conscious. And, don’t think for a second my powers can’t break that whimsy barrier of yours. It did it once. I can do it again and again until I tire of you.”

My hands were clutching my temples, soothing what my healing powers could. It didn’t work. It was as Idoya said. I was damned if I didn’t do anything and I’m damned if I do become her puppet. My breathing turned ragged. I groaned, bent over, waiting for something to come out of my mouth, but all I did was heave.

I straightened up. Anything was better than this personal hell. I locked eyes with her, my resolve etched in the air.

“Wise choice, young demon. I knew you would make the right one. Now, for your task,” her smile crept its way on her pale face. Her giggles faded within the realm sending a shiver down my spine.

What had I done?