The world suddenly went dark. It was like night had descended around him, that strange sky of terrifying black stars sinking into the soil, corrupting its colour and form, an empty void underneath his feet.
But he felt oddly calm, a serene grace washing over him.
He had felt this feeling once before.
When he had first met the Daemonic being two years ago, right after that figure had forced him to devour his teacher.
He was going to meet with it once more.
If one had a proper, solid control over their Spirit, they could initiate a Parley. This was just a meeting with a Spirit, face-to-face. Of course, this was something that experienced Spirit Users could really only do. But a Daemonic Spirit was different.
While a Contract was often a means of exhibiting an equal balance of power between the Spirit and the Host, an equal exchange, this wasn't so true for Daemonic Spirits. Such a creature was by its very nature, stronger than humanity.
So there was no such existence of an equal Contract between the two.
Only when one party gained the upper hand over the other individual involved in the Contract, could a Parley be called.
And Lark had always had the upper hand in their dealings, from the very moment that he had signed their Contract.
Of course, Artemis was not sure why Lark had summoned him in such a scenario. His body was still currently in the abandoned city, it was only his essence—the soul of his very being— that had been taken to meet with the Spirit.
"Good afternoon, dearest Host." A teasing, illusory voice spoke from behind him.
Artemis quickly whipped his head around, his hand balling up into a fist.
A little girl sat at an ornate wooden table littered with intricate, fanciful carvings, focused on slicing apart a thick cut of roasted meat with a silver knife. She pierced it with her fork, dousing it in a rich, creamy sauce before placing it against her lips, biting into it. A symphony of emotions rushed through her, eventually letting out a heavy sigh.
This was the Spirit that had tormented him simply by existing, by having bound itself to him.
By ruining him.
But there was a part of Spirit Contracts that was quite similar, yet very different to physical domination over the other party. It was a battle of wills, a search for dominance by way of determination to not fall to baser instincts.
Artemis would not debase himself by growing angry in front of the Daemonic Spirit.
"How does it taste?" He asked simply, referring to her meal, which stained the corners of her lips a faint red.
"Mediocre." Lark replied. "You should have brought me better ingredients… but they do fine."
"How do you… make corpses look so…" he could not find the correct word to describe it. While the meal itself looked fine, he kept recalling its source. That tattered flesh which clung to rotted bones…
"Appetising?" Lark smiled faintly. "You're recalling the state that those corpses were in. But you've had a strange view of how this works from the very moment we met. You're the one eating corpses, I'm eating their souls, their very essence."
"How is it different?"
Lark shook her head, letting out a reprieving sigh. "Essence is Origin, little Prince. They were originally beautiful creatures, and beautiful creatures taste and present themselves pleasantly. They are wonderful ingredients no matter how ugly or unseemly they might have been at the time of their death."
When she finally glanced up at Artemis, a shiver ran down his spine. She had no pupils, her eyes were as black as night, as deep as the greatest abyss, as terrifying as all that remained unknown.
Artemis's eyebrow twitched.
"The armour had an ability, do you want to keep it?" Lark spoke in a casual manner, the sable wolf mask suddenly appearing in the air in front of him. She raised her hand and twisted it around, causing it to spin slowly. He grasped at it in an annoyed fashion, giving it a look.
Once, it had been empty, devoid of colour and life. Then, after he had devoured his teacher, forced to effectuate the contract by the demon in front of him, it had gained an illusory silver sheen.
Now, it simultaneously permeated a faint red colour.
It meant that it had devoured another ability, the hollow armour's ability. But he had not seen the armour use a Spirit.
Unless…
Was the armour occupied by a Spirit?
So that's how it was able to move…
And that's what Lark consumed…
Lark did not have a penchant for sharing. Her manner was that of a glutton, and so she had devoured the Spirit entirely. All that was left was its ability, like bloodstains on the mask that would never wash away.
"What if I don't want the ability?"
"Choosing not to accept it now would be very painful."
"For who? Painful for me? I didn't have anything to do with this."
"No, it would be painful for me, dull Prince. I already ate the Spirit. If you forewent its ability, it would be like denying it entirely, and you have that power in your hands already. It would tear itself away from the mask, away from me. It would be like eating a rabbit, and having it gnaw its way out of your stomach before escaping into the forest."
"That's fairly tempting…"
Lark sat back in her seat, rolling her eyes.
Seeing this, a pleasant feeling washed through his heart.
"What does it do?"
"It copies weapons. That's all. You can copy a single weapon at a time, and then summon a copy of it whenever you wish. Of course, at a cost. My cost."
"Every time I summon it, I would have to eat something?"
Lark shook her head, smiling lightly. "If that were the case, I would make a much bigger case to get you interested in it, but its only term is that the contract is effectuated when you copy a weapon. Summoning it after the fact is on your own terms, whenever you please."
"So what would change if I accept this ability?"
"Nothing would change. The Contract terms have already been set. If you want to revise them, we can. But this is just a perk that contracting with me has brought you. You knew this from the moment you drew the blood of your wrist and splashed it across the dotted line."
The young girl's had changed in the time they had been talking. Now, parts of her skull had slowly begun to bulge outwards, drooping slightly. Viscous, web-like pustules clustered together underneath her skin, swirling with a luminescent, putrid orange liquid. Her eyes were a faint glowing green, and sharp, jagged teeth peered out from behind her cracked lips.
This was the true Daemonic nature of the Spirit.
This was Lark, his Warden.
"You don't meet with me very often, so I never got to mention it, but your teacher was delicious. When will you feed me more of your people?
"Humanity is regal, brilliant. It's above being your supper, bastard witch."
"You're being pretentious, little Prince."
He felt his will waver a bit. He knew that she was just mocking him, trying to get him to crack, but it felt good to fight against it.
"Why do you mimic a human shape if you eat them? Do wolves mimic sheep?" He spat in a foul tone.
"Witnessing my true form would kill you."
She leaned back even further, it seemed like the chair was in danger of tipping over completely, but she didn't even have the need to support herself. It simply floated in the air as if it was meant to be that way.
"And it's because I want to appeal to you, so I'm wearing the corpse of your little sister, the one who you watched die brutally and blocked out of your memory. You hated her that much..."
"I can't remember that, so you're definitely lying to me. You can't mess with me that easily."
"Perhaps I'm lying, perhaps I'm not. But the truth remains, you can't remember anything before you came to the Palace, can you, frail Prince? So, anything can be true…"
"How would you even know of my past, when I can't even recall it?"
"I'm in your mind, your body, your soul. I know what's happening to you as we speak."
Artemis's eyes suddenly widened, scrambling to his feet.
"Am I in danger?"
Lark chuckled. "Nothing immediate."
She ran a finger along the edge of her lips.
"Just pray that you don't get thirsty before you escape this place."
This place? What does she know about this place?
"Do you know where I am, Lark?"
"Nowhere good for your regal, brilliant humankind, that's quite certain." She shrugged. "Anyways, I'm bored of you now. I only wanted to tell you about the strange thing you left in my food. Get out."
In an instant, Artemis sucked in a heavy, exasperated breath. Light flooded through his eyes, blurring it, and the air felt heavier and colder, damper. There was a putrid scent wafting underneath his nose, and his body ached considerably.
He was back in the mysterious city.
And in the vast emptiness, he heard the illusory voice echo once more.
[Good luck surviving, useless Prince…]