Chapter 10: A New World.
The portal's violent energies tore at Xolvion's very essence as he tumbled through the dimensional rift, his consciousness fragmenting and reassembling with each pulse of otherworldly magic. Time seemed to stretch and compress simultaneously, seconds feeling like hours whilst entire minutes vanished in the space between heartbeats. The swirling vortex of crimson and gold energy that had seemed so inviting from the demon realm now felt like being devoured by a living storm.
When reality finally reasserted itself, Xolvion found himself sprawled face-first in what appeared to be a muddy alleyway, his body aching from the dimensional transition. The familiar scent of sulphur and ash that had filled his lungs since birth was gone, replaced by something cleaner yet somehow more complex. The air carried the mingled aromas of bread, leather, horse sweat, and human habitation.
"Those bastards..." he groaned, pushing himself to his knees and immediately regretting the movement as pain lanced through his ribs. "They really went too far this time."
Looking up, Xolvion found himself staring at a world unlike anything he'd ever experienced. Where the demon realm's architecture favoured obsidian spires and volcanic glass, this place was built from honest stone and timber. Buildings rose three and four storeys high, their walls adorned with hanging signs depicting everything from crossed hammers to frothing tankards. The sky above was a brilliant blue unmarred by the eternal crimson haze of his homeland, and actual sunlight, not the hellish glow he'd known all his life, streamed down to warm his battered face.
"So, this is the human kingdom," he murmured, struggling to his feet. His grandfather's letter felt reassuringly solid in his inner pocket, though he had no immediate idea how to make use of the contacts Zarathos had mentioned, that and the fact he had lost his carry bag, meaning he had nothing other than the clothing on his body.
The medieval city bustled with life around him. Merchants hawked their wares from wooden stalls, their voices creating a symphony of commerce that was both foreign and oddly appealing. Horse-drawn carriages clattered over cobblestones, their wheels sending up sprays of mud and water from the previous night's rain. Women in simple dresses hurried past with baskets of vegetables, whilst men in leather aprons and woollen tunics called greetings to one another across the narrow streets.
Xolvion had little knowledge of human society, having only ever been told tales of what the human world was like. Considering the last time most demons had been exposed to their world was over two centuries ago during the final days of the great war between demons and the other races. Much had clearly changed since then.
Xolvion cut an impressive figure even in his dishevelled state. At six feet two inches, he stood tall above most of the humans around him, his silver hair catching the unfamiliar sunlight despite being matted with mud and dirt. His red eyes, the only obviously demonic feature he possessed, drew curious glances from passing women, though none seemed alarmed. Perhaps they mistook the unusual colour for some human variation he was unaware of.
His clothes, once fine demon nobility attire, had suffered considerably during his escape. The dark tunic and trousers his grandfather's servants had provided were now torn and stained, though they still maintained enough quality to suggest he wasn't entirely destitute. The black travel cloak had served him well, and he pulled its hood up to better conceal his distinctive features whilst he oriented himself.
"Watch it, you daft sod!" A man driving a horse and carriage shouted as he almost ran Xolvion over due to him walking into the road unknowingly.
Xolvion managed to step out of the way, but the carriage wheel splashed muddy water all over his already-stained trousers, adding insult to injury.
"Brilliant," he muttered, trying his best to wipe off the fresh mess. His stomach chose that moment to remind him that he hadn't eaten since his grandfather's table, letting out an embarrassing growl that drew amused looks from nearby pedestrians.
Looking up, Xolvion spotted what appeared to be a popular tavern across the cobblestone road. The establishment practically burst with life, warm light spilling from its diamond-paned windows whilst the most delicious aromas he'd ever encountered wafted from its open door. A hanging sign depicted a black swan in flight, and the sound of laughter and conversation promised warmth and sustenance.
"The Black Swan," he read aloud, his demon-enhanced eyesight easily making out the painted letters. "Well, when one is desperate... I wonder if I could..."
After checking for more careening carriages, Xolvion crossed the road and pushed through the tavern's heavy oak door. The interior was everything he'd hoped for and more. Rough-hewn wooden tables filled the main room, occupied by a diverse crowd of humans in various states of merriment. Serving wenches in simple dresses moved between the tables with practised efficiency, their arms laden with platters of food and tankards of what smelled like remarkably good ale.
The warmth was almost overwhelming after days of travel, and Xolvion had to resist the urge to simply stand in the doorway and bask in the atmosphere. Instead, he made his way to a corner table that provided both privacy and an excellent view of the establishment's patrons. His demonic heritage might not have granted him his siblings' flashy magical abilities, but it did provide enhanced senses that were proving quite useful in assessing his new environment.
For a moment, his thoughts drifted to home and the family that had betrayed him so completely. The burning rage that had sustained him through his escape flared again, a welcome distraction from his current predicament. Vorthak with his arrogant brutality, Seraphine with her elegant cruelty, all of them thinking they'd successfully eliminated their inconvenient half-brother. Little did they know.
"Welcome to the Black Swan! My name's Zoey. What can I get for you tonight?"
The soft, melodic voice snapped Xolvion out of his vengeful brooding. He looked up to find himself face-to-face with one of the serving wenches, his enhanced senses immediately catalogued everything about her.
She appeared to be around twenty-one years old, with soft green eyes and long chestnut hair tied back in a practical ponytail. Her simple work dress, whilst modest, couldn't completely disguise the curves beneath, and there was something appealingly genuine about her manner that set her apart from the calculating succubi he'd known in the demon court.
"Zoey?" he asked, allowing a hint of his natural charm to colour his voice.
"Yes, what can I get for you today, sir?" she replied, and he didn't miss the way her cheeks flushed slightly as their eyes met.
Xolvion could see his incubus heritage was already having its effect, even without actively employing his magical abilities. "I'll take the house special and a glass of wine, please, Zoey," he said, having already noted the menu chalked on a large blackboard near the bar.
The barmaid nodded, clearly flustered by his attention. "Coming right up," she managed, looking at the bruise around his eye before looking down at the floor and hurrying away.
Xolvion couldn't help but smirk. Even weakened and desperate, his natural magnetism remained intact. Perhaps survival in the human world wouldn't be as difficult as he'd feared.
Maybe I can seduce a rich merchant's daughter, he mused quietly, watching Zoey weave between the tables. Build a fortune through strategic marriages and social manipulation. Afterall, I won't survive for long without money and a place to stay. He continued to think as he gazed around the inn, watching the different types of humans who went about their evening.
The food, when it arrived, was surprisingly good. Nothing like the exotic delicacies served at his father's table, but hearty and satisfying in a way he hadn't expected. The wine was acceptable, if unremarkable, and he savoured both whilst studying the tavern's clientele more carefully, finishing the lot with ease.
"That'll be twenty-five coppers, please," Zoey said, placing the bill on his table with another charming blush as she noticed he had finished his food.
Xolvion wipes his lips and set down his wine glass before he fixed her with his full attention, allowing his innate power to flow freely for the first time since arriving in the human realm. "Well... It's not exactly the world's finest vintage, but it will do," he said with a smile that seemed to physically draw her closer.
Zoey's green eyes widened slightly as she found herself caught in his gaze, her pupils dilating in response to his supernatural charisma. The reaction was immediate and gratifying.
"You must forgive me, Zoey, but I find myself unable to pay for this meal," he said, his voice taking on the hypnotic quality that marked his succubus heritage. "Would you be so kind as to cover the cost? I do hope I'm not asking too much."
A moment passed between them, and suddenly, without hesitation, Zoey reached into her apron pocket and pulled out what was clearly her own tip money, placing the coins on the table. "It's no trouble at all," she said dreamily, unable to look away from his eyes.
"Thank you, Zoey. You're far too kind," Xolvion replied, releasing her from his charm's grip. Amazed that his magic had worked so effectively.
The serving wench blinked in confusion, suddenly aware that she'd been staring at him for far too long. Embarrassment flooded her features as she grabbed the coins and walked off quickly.
How remarkably susceptible humans are to my magic... Xolvion thought with satisfaction, with new possibilities entering his mind.
As the evening wore on, the tavern's crowd gradually thinned. Xolvion nursed his wine whilst observing the departing patrons, his mind working through various schemes and possibilities. He had no lodging for the night, no money beyond what he'd just acquired through magical coercion, and no clear plan beyond simple survival.
When the last customers began making their farewells, Xolvion slipped outside. Rather than departing, however, he positioned himself in the shadows of a nearby alley, his enhanced vision allowing him to watch the tavern's rear entrance with perfect clarity.
"This isn't really my style," he muttered, feeling distinctly uncomfortable with what he was about to do. But I don't have much choice; besides, it will be a good test of just how much my magic will work here. He thought.
"Good night!" Zoey's voice rang out as she bid farewell to her fellow workers, stepping into the cool night air.
Here is my chance... Xolvion thought, knowing he had to make his move now.
Xolvion emerged from the shadows at precisely the right moment, timing it so that the young woman would walk directly into him. The collision was perfectly orchestrated, sending her stumbling backwards until he caught her wrist and pulled her back to her feet.
"Oh my, are you all right?" he asked with practised concern.
Zoey looked up into his face, recognition dawning in her green eyes. "You're... from the tavern," she stammered, clearly affected by his proximity.
"Charm," Xolvion whispered ever so softly, activating his magical abilities at full strength.
The effect was immediate and profound. Zoey's eyes locked with his, all trace of nervousness replaced by dreamy fascination. Her breathing quickened, and he could practically see her rational mind surrendering to the intoxicating influence of his power.
"Hello again, Zoey," he said, his voice smooth as silk.
"Hello again, sir," she replied, her voice soft and pliant.
"Are you finished for the night?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.
"Y-yes."
"Allow me to walk you home. After all, it is rather late for a young lady to be wandering the streets alone."
Zoey took his offered arm without hesitation, linking hers through his as they began to walk through the moonlit streets. The city took on an entirely different character at night, gas lamps casting warm pools of light whilst shadows created intimate alcoves between buildings as the two walked along the narrow streets.
"This is me," Zoey whispered as they reached a narrow building squeezed between a baker's shop and a clothier's establishment.
"Excellent," Xolvion replied, turning to face her with his most disarming smile.
"G-good night," she said softly, fumbling for her key.
"Zoey," he called gently.
She turned back towards him, immediately caught in his gaze once more.
"I don't currently have lodging for the night. Would you be so kind as to allow me to stay with you?"
The request should have alarmed her. A sensible young woman would never invite a strange man into her home, regardless of how charming he might be. But Xolvion's supernatural influence had stripped away her caution, leaving only desire and an overwhelming need to please him.
"Of course," she said with a genuine smile, unlocking her door and gesturing for him to follow, "please come in." She said.
The staircase was narrow and steep, leading to a modest apartment that would have fit comfortably in one of Castle Valous's storage rooms. But it was clean and well-maintained, with a small fireplace providing warmth and a single large bed dominating the main living space.
Xolvion took in the simple furnishings with interest. This was how ordinary humans lived, far removed from the opulent excess of demon nobility. There was something almost appealing about the modest practicality of it all.
"I'm afraid there's only one bed," Zoey said shyly, her cheeks flushing despite her magically induced compliance.
Xolvion stepped closer, gently taking her chin in his hand and tilting her face up so their eyes met. "That's not a problem at all," he said softly, leaning down to brush his lips against hers. Deciding not to waste any more time.