Buried in the Darkness | By : RoseThorne Category: +S to Z > Slayers Views: 993 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Slayers and do not make any money writing this. |
by Rose Thorne
Disclaimer: Slayers is owned by a bunch of folks who aren’t me. I’m borrowing them for my perverse pleasure, much as Xellos borrows emotions for his.
Xellos looked down on a scene of destruction, reminiscent of those he had wrought himself. A town in flames, panicked citizens fleeing in all direction. The stench of death and dark magic.
And in the center of it all, a figure with blue skin and glowing eyes, cutting down every living thing he encountered with his enchanted sword.
Promise me.
--
Xellos had discovered Zelgadis’ secret quite by accident, while ignoring his desire for privacy one evening. Instead of the argument and delicious anger that he had expected, he found the chimera waging an internal battle, the brau demon within struggling for control.
It was a very short clash, easily won by Zelgadis, but the shaman had told him haltingly that the demon third was growing stronger, that these power grabs were becoming more common. That at first they had been nothing more than a brief irritation, too weak to do anything but register on his Astral senses.
If I don’t find a cure, it’ll eventually take over. Promise me. Promise you’ll kill me. Please.
Xellos knew that Zelgadis hadn’t ever trusted him, and the young sorcerer hadn’t even known him as Mazoku at the time. But Xellos could see, looking at him, that he remembered how easily the priest had done what he could not, freeing Plum’s brother from the chimeric form he couldn’t control.
He knew now that if he were to remain a chimera he would become a monster against his will, and he was asking for that same mercy.
Xellos had promised without hesitation, but not out of mercy. Not then.
Years passed, and much changed. Zelgadis trusted him even less, and Xellos encouraged that wariness.
The Mazoku had felt, over that time, several points when Zelgadis’ control slipped as the demon gained even more strength. But it had never been able to take over, even in the chimera’s darkest hour: facing the realization that there was no cure, that eventually he would have to be killed, and that he was trusting a being like Xellos to honor his word.
Zelgadis couldn’t know that Mazoku pride did not allow for broken promises.
--
Xellos had followed a long trail of destruction, towns razed, the inhabitants tortured to death in ways that only a demon could invent, the human mind incapable of such cruel creativity. The trail, if left uninterrupted, would lead to Seyruun.
There was no denying that the time had come.
He remembered his promise as he knew Zelgadis did, and he had never wanted so badly to break his word.
Xellos appeared in front of the chimera, standing still, silently daring the brau demon to attack. Instead it grinned at him with Zelgadis’ face, knowing its fate—death perhaps its goal all along.
“Release him,” Xellos ordered after staring back for a moment. If he could have destroyed it, he would have, but Zelgadis’ entwined natures meant that exterminating one aspect would kill him.
Lesser demon or not, it was still Mazoku, bound to obey his commands. It raged, but the eyes returned to normal, the body fell to its knees as the human’s consciousness regained power. Xellos could tell from his lack of emotions, the dull shock, that Zelgadis had been made to watch through his own eyes as his body committed unspeakable horrors.
Xellos touched his shoulder and took him from the chaos and carnage, teleporting them to a serene clearing deep within a forest, a small meadow with a stream. A peaceful place to die.
Neither of them moved, though Xellos knew his duty and Zelgadis knew his fate.
“I couldn’t stop it,” the shaman finally whispered, his voice without inflection.
“I know.” His own voice sounded hollow to his ears. “It may be possible to suppress your demon side.”
He already knew it wasn’t true, had known it before he said it. It was one of the few lies he had told in his long existence. The brau demon would only obey as long as Xellos was there to command it, and he knew of no way to truly contain it.
Zelgadis looked up at him, his eyes pleading, but when he spoke it wasn’t to release him from the commitment he had made so long ago.
“It’s no more possible than finding a cure.” Zelgadis closed his eyes when Xellos said nothing. “Please.”
It was a promise he had to honor. One he would respect, now truly for the sake of mercy instead of destruction.
He was a fool for having made such a promise.
Zelgadis didn’t resist when Xellos pushed him back onto the grass, when he caressed him, when he pulled at his clothing, revealing pebbled blue skin. He moved into his touch, giving freely, returning the touches, letting the Mazoku take him without hesitation.
Needing, wanting, breathing, feeling, living.
Xellos had never felt regret, but he felt it in the intensity of their shared desire. The phantom memory of all those wasted moments came to life in one transient instance to teach him. He could only wonder if Zelgadis felt it, too.
When it was over, they lay together for a few precious minutes before they both knew it was time.
“Please,” Zelgadis said again.
Xellos didn’t deny him. He leaned forward to kiss him and sent deadly energy through that point of contact on both planes.
Zelgadis shuddered against him, and he pulled back in time to see the relief in those crystalline eyes before they dimmed, the life slipping from them. A trickle of blood that ran from his mouth was the only outside evidence of the damage Xellos had done.
He pulled the body close, holding it, and considered what to do with it, whether to leave it or bury it. But he knew that the flesh within the stone would decompose, leaving the shell of a shell. The idea disturbed him in a bizarre way, as though that stone skin would continue to keep Zelgadis trapped within it somehow.
He incinerated it and let the breeze take the ashes, freeing him.
Xellos reached to wipe the blood from where it had splashed on his cheek, but his fingers found only clear moisture.
This is not my normal writing style, but it’s the way the fic wanted to be written. This feels almost like writing the memory of a memory. So cerebral. I blame reading too much Faulkner.
This has been in the back of my mind as an idea for ages, but last night it muscled its way to the forefront. I should be working on Springkink fics or Detour.
Note that this is somewhat based on the abandoned Xellos and Zelgadis story that Kanzaka intended to write about their first meeting. A summary of it can be found translated online from The Longest Afterward from Slayers Special #8. Those of you who know it will know where I got the title for this fic.
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