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Chapter 1
Violet crouched behind the crate in the corner of the room. The torchlight danced on her charcoal grey skin, reflecting only off the slight sheen of sweat on her brow. Her grip was wet, though tight around the bone handle of the bow she carried. A quiver of wooden arrows, slick with alchemical silver sheen hung at her side, the shafts held together with loose twine for stealth. Her dark eyes tracked the movement of the lesser demon that occupied this chamber. It's claws rasped against the stone floor as it moved, and she used the sound to muffle her breathing, keeping time with its pace. At any moment, she feared, it would catch her scent, and pounce on her in her hiding place, ending her escape as quickly as it had begun.  Its four eyes scanned the crates opposite her, rifling through its contents, hungrily searching for something to consume. After a few seconds she saw the green horns atop its head lift, and from within the wooden box it lifted a lithe elven hand, severed at the wrist and caked with blood. A gleaming magical ring still wrapped around the longest finger, it glittered in the torchlight. The demon sniffed at the hand, and a long line of drool ran from its bulbous lips to the stone floor, where it hit with a sizzle and wisp of steam. Its forked tongue lashed out and enveloped the elven hand, pulling it sloppily into its maw. Violet heard the sound of crunching metal, as the magic ring was simultaneously melted and crushed by the demonic jaws. For a moment she just stared at the hideous beast blocking the only other path from this room, but when it had just finished chewing and began sniffing the air around it, she knew this would be her only chance.
In the room behind her, an elf with pure black skin, the colour of raw obsidian, lay mostly unconscious in his cell. He wore only a pair of dirty tattered breeches, and his naked chest moved slowly up and down in the dirt of the floor. He lay on his side, breathing carefully, trying to stay awake while deciding whether or not he should simply sleep. He knew the wounds of his flesh had been healed, and that he appeared in remarkably good health, but that was often the way with disease. It was still inside him, destroying his vitals from within, taking his strength every moment that passed. He didn't know how long he had been locked in this cell, but it was long enough that his pearl white hair had grown long, turned brown with dirt and rot, and was home to a energetic culture of lice. He had grown a beard and moustache for the first time, not of his own choosing, but for lack of alternatives. His eyes, accustomed to the darkest places of the underground world still burned in the torchlight, and the stink of wood smoke was unfamiliar to him. Firelight was different from the natural glow of subterranean fungi, and it made what was already a hellish place that much more uncomfortable.  He had given up hope on life, until a day ago, when his half sister had been thrown into his cell with him. Though she had been stripped of everything but her undergarments, she had always been the cleverer of the two, and when she had told him that she was going to get them out of here, he knew that she meant it. He had been so overcome with hope and joy when she had given him the hidden vial of healing, that he did not even think to mention the fire that was taking him from within him. Violet was going to save him.
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She tried to bring the arrow out of its sheath as quickly as possible, while staying silent and not creating any movement that could catch the demon's eye. Thankfully the new bow was impossibly light, and she had no trouble maneuvering it from its field of vision. Some of the silver sheen had hardened, cracking, and flecks of it clung to Violet's thin elven fingers. The string was silent as she leaned back against the cool wall behind her, drawing the bow as taut as she could. She detected a faint smell of metal, and silently prayed that the silver sheen was not toxic to humanoids. She carefully aimed the arrow at the demon, first at its head, then down to where its heart would be. If she had not been lied to about the nature of the bow, where she hit with the arrows would not matter, but it made no sense to try for anything less than a killing shot. She eased her breathing as best she could, ignoring the harsh scent of wood smoke from the torches, and the slime on the hide of this beast in front of her. She calmed herself enough and was releasing her grip on the string, when the demon looked at her. It turned and met her two dark eyes with its four watery ones. In an instant she beheld its horror in full; its two sets of razor sharp teeth, framing its gaping maw that housed its hideous forked tongue. Muscles rippled along its slimy torso, and its hooked claws clacked together menacingly. She did not understand the full nature of demons, but she was certain that this one was seeing into her and smiling cruelly. She fired the silver arrow, but in her attempts to keep herself from screaming her soul to pieces, her aim flinched. The arrow shot downwards, and lodged itself deep into the thing's foot. A stream of black liquid, like boiling tar, shot out and splashed against the wall, letting up a puff of white steam. The demon looked down at its injured foot, and without making a sound, looked back at Violet, unfazed. It took a step towards her, extending its deadly claws, and vanished. The room was silent, but Violet didn't move. Sweat from her face dripped onto the bone handle of the bow she held below her, and the bow absorbed it hungrily.
The dark elf thought he heard something from the other room, something like a large footstep, but when he tried to listen carefully, there was only silence. While he was in here, he prayed for silence, and the sound of approaching footsteps almost always caused him to loose his bladder. The sound of a demon's footsteps, he had discovered, only ever meant one thing; snack time. With no kind of regularity, he had been visited in this cell and feasted upon by a host of demons. Each time they would come, look at his weakened figure prone before them, and become hungry. They would sink their fangs into his black flesh, and slurp at the blood that he lost. After they had taken their fill, they would smear the wounds with a blackish tar that felt as though the wound was being re-eaten. It would close the flesh and remove infection. It did nothing to stop the spread of his disease. This went on for all of eternity, and the dark elf believed that nothing truly had existed before. There was no such thing as clean air, or fresh water. One could not eat anything other than the rats too starved to run from your bony clutches, and certainly no others that the demons could feed on. Violet had seemed an impossibility, and the drow had believed her to be another demon at first sight. But she had tended to him, and she had told him that they would escape. He tried to tell her the reality of the world, but she would not listen. When the first footsteps came, she did not show fear as he did. She stood, defiantly before the massive four-armed demon. She had looked into its dog-like head, and had told it that she wished to speak to its master. It laughed, and spat upon her, but she wiped the abyssal phlegm from her face, and spoke an evil name. "Mal'Vakrath".
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Violet saw no sign that the demon was still in the room. The black blood was still splashed against the wall, but she heard no footsteps, no sounds at all. Slowly, she rose from behind the crate, her knees cracking with the sudden strain. She quietly moved around the boxes she had taken as cover, and moved to the solid wooden chests at the back of the room. Though her own equipment may have been stored in one of the many crates, she hoped to find something more suited to the escape. She was not disappointed. Inside the chest she found a pair of curved daggers, a style found mostly in the southern desert country of Calimshan. She pulled out a long green robe and rope belt from beneath them, and tucked them under her arm. Under the robes lay a bandolier filled with vials, clearly potions of healing, and under the bandolier, she found a seemingly random pile of leather pieces and strips. As her hand touched the leather, she could feel a faint vibration of magic, and touching it revealed that it was more solid than steel though it was still flexible. As she lifted a piece from the pile, she realized that it was actually a set of armour, a top piece and bottom piece. It was clearly made for a female to wear, though who would design armour like this she could not imagine. However, it was better than the peasants' clothes she had worn in, and so she laid down her treasures, and quickly donned the leather. It fit her body perfectly, as was the way of magic armour, and she felt it move comfortably with her as she moved. Despite the amount of skin it left revealed, she felt the protection of the magic that infused it. She strapped on the bandolier, covering little more of her exposed flesh, and took the robes and daggers into the room she had come from. Her eyes, though they stung in the light of the torches, made out the prone form of her brother lying on the floor of their cell. He was weak, but she knew she would not be able to carry him. She knelt beside him, and his eyes fluttered open. Without a word, she helped him sit, pulled the robes onto him and tied it tightly at the waist. She then handed him the curved daggers, and helped him to his feet. He swayed momentarily, but now clothed and armed, he felt renewed strength. He turned to his sister, and gave her a solemn nod. She looked into his dark eyes for a moment, then led him from the room forever.
Mal'Vakrath had been big and terrible. An immense heat had radiated from his body, and Violet had felt as though she may cook simply standing before the monster. His glowing eyes pierced her, and the circle of fire at his side looked much like a coiled whip. He had breathed foul breath onto her, and she had coughed at the smell of sulphur and the burning in her lungs. He stood before her, three times her size, and had roared at her. The bellow had sent her flying from her feet, and she slammed hard against the stone ground, bashing her elbows hard. The demon looked down at the grey-skinned figure, "Who told you my name, half-breed? Who has damned both themselves and you? They will surely find a place in my domain, where you will both suffer greatly for its use!"
"I need to make a deal," Violet said, looking up at the towering form of the demon, "I will bargain with you, so let us set the terms".
The demon paused, then laughed, "Alright, mortal, we will bargain. What is it that we are dealing for? Wealth? Magic? Perhaps you wish some respite from the torture you are sure to receive in here?"
"I wish to free myself and my brother from this place."
The demon's face drew into a frown, "I am not prepared to offer that to you, mortal. This is my domain, and you have been promised to my legions. Your brother owes many a score with my kin who now remain trapped in the Abyss for a century. His suffering is the promise of other deals that I hold."
Violet slowly stood, never breaking eye contact with the beast, "But you have not heard what I have to offer. I am a skilled archer, a remarkable assassin. Among the drow I am known as 'Vesbrenzen', the Night's Death. More than that, I am accustomed to travel on the surface, and am able to move freely through cities and homes. I am able to accomplish much that your legions cannot. I am willing to offer you this: any mortal soul on the Material Plane, gathered by my own hand. It is a treasure you cannot easily find elsewhere."
"Fool mortal," the demon spat, looking at the small figure standing strongly before him, "you are worthless to me, nothing but a worm whose life is as easily snuffed at the millions above. To me you are good for little else than fodder and food. But your unwarranted bravery may be of some entertainment to me for a time. If I am to accept this deal, what is it that I must give?"
"I want to escape this place with my brother. If you are able to provide us the means of escape, I will fulfill my end of the bargain."
The demon smiled, "Alright then, half-elf, I accept your deal. You shall have your means of escape, and I will give you the name of the one whose soul you must send to me," the demon said as he raised his hand above his head. Within his massive clenched fist, a longbow of light brown wood appeared. He lowered his hand, and presented it to Violet, along with a quiver of arrows beside it, "This is to be your means of escape. You claim to be a skilled archer, so this should be sufficient. Your aim need not be true with this weapon; merely strike your target, and the magic will do the rest. After you have escaped this place, I will be waiting at the exit, ready to discuss my end of the deal, " He held up his meaty hand to prevent her from protesting and said, "You are of no use to me if your skill is lacking, and so this will be how I gauge the value of my deal. There are 6 arrows; I suggest you do not miss."
The demon smiled, and in an instant, vanished from the room, leaving only the stink of sulphur in his wake. Violet turned to the unconscious form of her brother, and watched his labored breathing. She looked at the bow, and the distinctive shine of silver sheen coating the arrows.  Finally she looked at the open door to their cell, the unlocked wooden door leading from the room, and watched the shadow of a creature that moved just beyond it.

Chapter 2

Monastral turned the finely crafted daggers he held in each hand, watching his reflection pass from them, and Violet's become visible.  He couldn't tell if the daggers held any magic in them, but they were perfectly balanced. For close quarters, at least, he thought. These were not weapons he would have chosen to fight demons with. It was not unusual, however, for Monastral to willingly engage demons in combat. He fought with the guard of a powerful underground city, and often came across rogue entities from the lower planes. Unlike his sister, he had never been outside the surrounding area of the city. Violet had left years ago, shamed by her half-blood heritage, but strong and willing to make her own way. He had not expected to see her again. She was more muscular than he remembered, and she held the bow in her hand with practiced grace and confidence. She seemed to not hesitate where he did, and he felt pride that their blood was of the same line. Gripping the daggers tightly, feeling their wire-wrapped hilts dig into his quickly dampening palms, he moved behind Violet as she slipped into the next room.
She moved quickly and assuredly into the adjoining room, having already cleared it of any threat. Because of the lack of demonic presence she'd so far seen in this part of the lair, she suspected that there would be some sort of hallway or stairs, keeping the dungeons apart from the rest of the compound. She pressed her ear to the door, held her breath, and motioned for Monastral to do the same. After a count of ten without hearing a sound, she eased the door open, and found herself looking up from the base of a massive staircase. The stairs, each a foot tall, went over a hundred feet upwards, with very little ceiling above it. It was a daunting sight to behold, especially when she tactically realized that they would be out in the open, with no means to protect themselves. Without wanting to waste another moment, and seeing no alternative, she motioned to her brother to follow her up the steep, rock steps.  After only a few seconds she could feel a burning in her lower legs, but easily pressed on; she was unsure how her brother would manage in his weakened state. Monastral, however, was able to keep pace with her, his brow drawn down, and beads of sweat rolling down his face. She was impressed with his strength and resolve, and reasoned there was no need to offer any assistance with this task if he could handle it. As she crested the stone stairway, she slowed, only just peeking over the top of the steps. Where the steps ended, they led into an intersection of hallways. With no means of determining one path over the other, she moved quickly forward, her younger brother close behind.
They moved through the halls, silently, never seeing any of the demonic force that inhabited this secret place. Through twists and turns, Violet navigated them, often away from distant sounds of roars or screams. The air here was starting to cool slightly, and their hot, tense skin was glad for the meager improvement. The burning within Monastral would not relent, though he wouldn't mention it to Violet. If anything it had gotten worse with the strain of escape, but hope was keeping another flame alive inside him, and it burned just slightly brighter than the fire of pain. He was concentrating on masking the anguish among his organs, when the door he had just passed was thrown open. Two minor demons, small green masses of slime and bone, tumbled out of the door, wrestling with each other and cackling loudly. As they bounced against the opposite wall, and came to rest in a pile on the floor, they looked up and froze. Violet was turning around as the creatures freed themselves from each others' grip, and Monastral realized what he thought was only two demons was actually three. The globs of slime righted themselves and bared hideous misshapen fangs at the siblings, splashing ooze behind them as they charged. Monastral flourished the daggers, plunging them deep into two of the attacking monsters, and twisting out from between them. As he did so, he heard the loud whizz of an arrow cutting the air behind him, and one of Violet's arrows plunged straight into the belly of the third demon. It let out a loud hiss, and disappeared. Monastral saw that his daggers were covered in a thick green slime, and had apparently done nothing to the other demons aside from draw their attention. He twisted the daggers in his hands, allowing him to pull off an overhand strike, hoping to pierce whatever the demons possessed in place of brains. Both daggers he sunk down to the hilt in their little heads, but they cackled at him and reached towards him. Violet, behind them, had knocked a pair of arrows on the bow, and was crouched on one knee. Monastral hoped Violet was skilled enough to hit both demons, but he also wondered how she would know where to shoot. His wonder was answered a heartbeat later.
Violet had full confidence now that her bow would do its work. Taking aim as best she could, she was thankful that she would not need to make killing shots. When she let both arrows fly, she watched their dissimilar trajectory. The demon on the left took an arrow straight through its head, while the other suffered a hit in what approximated a lower back. Both creatures froze in some mix of shock and anger, and a moment later, were no longer there. The hall was silent, and Monastral looked at his sister, asking for answers with his eyes. He glanced at the bow, and back at Violet, but she remained silent. He turned away, indicating that he would not press the matter, and she stood, and began to move down their original course. That fight was close, Monastral thought, and Violet only has two more arrows. He didn't feel any doubt in his sister's skill, but he could still remember the feeling of demon teeth tearing at his flesh, and the thought kept an ever present fear in his bones. He watched his bare, black feet pad slightly on the dirty stone floor, feeling the softness of the robe brush his dirt caked skin. He was out of his cell; the place he believed was all that existed only hours ago. He was standing, and moving, something he hadn't done in any time he could easily remember. Violet had taken him from his prison, and though they were not free, he could feel safe in her plans, and soothed by his trust for her wisdom and resourcefulness.
Violet had no idea where she was going. She had begun to think that she was taking them around in circles, making no progress towards escape whatsoever. She had no reason to believe she was taking them closer to an exit, but she was also satisfied with simply keeping them alive. The adrenaline rushing through her made her feel as if they had been walking for hours, when likely it had not even been one. Without access to magic, or any form of natural light, it was impossible to tell what time of day it was or how much had passed. She moved on, constantly taking paths that looked unfamiliar, hoping to blindly stumble upon an exit. Then she heard a voice, a deep rumbling within her skull, a sound she knew that only she could hear. It called out to her in a mental non-language, spoke to her an understanding of the right path. Knowing that it was pointless to ignore the voice that seemed to know her, Violet moved towards it. Despite the sudden increase in heat, and the growing sounds of deep thumping footsteps around them, Violet sped forward, believing this was their only chance. She turned down a hallway that ended in a swinging wooden door, and broke out into a full run. Monastral stayed close behind her, speeding up to meet her pace, and together they burst through the doorway, into a massive marble entryway. A brilliantly white room, filled with marble statues, white woven tapestries, and shining marble pillars was laid out before them, and it filled them with a previously unfound horror. The statues were all men in pure agony, twisted into cruel positions, clawing at their eyes and mouths for some sort of reprieve from the still pain. The huge cloth tapestries showed a mass slaughter of angels, dark demon forms tearing them asunder, and their divine corpses falling from the sky to be smashed on the world below. Standing in the centre of all the terrifying white stood the most hideous creature imaginable.
A behemoth of unmatched horror, its dozen eyes rolled wildly in its sockets, tentacles and claws flailed in all directions, and a greasy, stinking slime oozed from burst cysts all over its molding hide. It let out both an ear-piercing screech and a deafening roar from its two adjacent mouths, and the ground thundered beneath its gargantuan clawed feet. The elven siblings stood frozen, fear having completely overtaken them, and they made no move at all when the creature approached them. As it came closer, a wave of toxic fumes emanated towards them, and the brother bent over and was sick on the floor. The pained sound of her little brother vomiting behind her was enough to shake Violet into action. Without further hesitation, she whipped both arrows from the quiver, not even bothering to remove the twine that held them together, and nocked them. The moment the shafts connected with the string of her magical bow, she drew to its full extent and loosed them blindly. The twine kept the arrows together, and their path was severely corrupted by the bindings, but Violet didn't care. If the bow worked as the demon lord had said it would, then her aim would not be needed. The arrows twisted downwards in mid-air, and hit the marble floor with a loud crack. They bounced once then slid directly between the towering legs of the demon creature, never even brushing its skin. Violet let out a cry of panic, her eyes going wide as she watched the creature bring a hooked claw towards her. Before it could strike, the wind was knocked from her lungs, and her head smashed against the marble floor, as her brother tackled her out of harm's way. He scrambled to get off of her, as dancing lights played in her field of vision.
At first she could only make out the rapidly moving dark blob that was Monastral, circling the beast taunting it loudly with shouts and screams. Its attention drawn from her, she watched the massive shape of the demon lumber towards her brother. Her vision returned as it turned its warty back towards her, and she scanned the floor for her arrows, but could not locate them. Suddenly, a muscled tentacle burst the floor beside her, sending a spray of marble shards into the air. Violet felt chunks of marble bounce off her magic armour harmlessly, but she was struck above the eye with a sharp splinter of stone, and she felt it lodge shallowly into her skull. Immediately she felt blood ooze down her face and begin to pool below her eye, before continuing to run past her nose to her dark lips. She looked up, and saw that the creature possessed three eyes upon its back, and these were aimed directly at her, though they were tilted up on the natural curve of the monster's back. She climbed to her feet, and sprinted towards the nearest wall. Out of range, she watched as her brother lunged towards the demon, its mouth wide open to receive him. Violet screamed, but at the last moment he slid on the slick marble floor, and came up behind the beast, clutching the arrows in his hand. They broke into a run simultaneously, the monster whipping around with a roar. Violet's hand stung as her brother slapped the tied arrows into her palm, and she nocked them again, lifting the bow and pointing it. It was too late; the monster had reached them, and its twin mouths hungrily descended on the elves, scooping them both up and plunging them into darkness.

Chapter 3

All sound was suddenly muted within the closed mouth of the demon that had eaten her, and Violet could loudly hear the bubbling sound of digestive acids coming from deeper within the monster. Her eyes, accustomed to the pitch darkness of the underground, shifted from the regular spectrum allowing her darkvision to take over. She could make out the shape of the fangs, the large buds on the tongue she was being moved about on, and the hanging piece of flesh at the back of the throat. She could not hear anything from her brother, and she hoped that he had survived the swallow, and was not currently in some deeper stomach, discovering the detailed workings of his own insides as his flesh melted away. Gripping the magic bow tightly, and drawing it to full length, Violet realized that loosing the arrow now might send her and her brother to whatever fate the targets of her arrows sent their targets. She was not familiar with the ins and outs of magic, but she thought that it was possible they could be considered "carried" by the creature being sent away. She held the arrows poised to shoot down the demon's throat as she pondered this, then finally decided there was no way to know. She loosed the arrows with a defiant cry, and watched them plunge deep into the meaty back wall of the cavernous mouth she was in. A moment later, she was blinded by the sudden light of the marble room.
Violet could hear the sound of her brother spluttering up fluid nearby, but she squeezed her eyes closed tightly, pressing her hands to them blocking out all light as they adjusted back into the visual spectrum used aboveground. When she opened her eyes, she saw her brother sitting up, his legs straight out, clutching his chest and struggling to breathe. As she rose, he coughed out some of the demon's saliva onto the floor beside him, and his breathing eased. He looked at her, and she laid a hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat. He felt as though he was on fire. His skin looked undamaged, but his heart was beating much too fast, and the fever on his body was almost unbearable for her to touch. He climbed to his feet, shook his long hair to clear some of the fluid from it, and pointed towards a marble doorway. Violet ran over to it, and pulled it open. Moonlight poured into the marble hall, and a strong cool breeze wafted in and caressed her face. She fell graciously onto the lush green grass of a forest floor, and felt the cool softness on her whole body. Monastral laid a hand on her back, and when she looked up, a waft of sulphurous air invaded her nose, and she looked upon the form of the demon lord Mal'Vakrath. He was here, at the exit, as promised.
"It seems as though the weapon was means enough to escape," the demon observed calmly, "though it looks as though you've had a time of it. You have a piece of stone in your head, Violet."
She raised her hand slowly to her head and felt the shard of marble still stuck in the bone of her skull, and she pulled it out, letting a fresh course of blood trickle down her face. The demon licked his lips as he watched her, and she frowned at him. "I am ready," she said, "to hear the name of the soul I am to collect for you."
"Violet, no," her brother ran to her side and looked her in the eyes, "you didn't deal with this demon for our escape, did you? What are you talking about, collecting a soul?"
She brushed her brother aside and stood to face the towering demon for the second time, "I will seek them out, hunt them down, and slay them with my own hands. My skills are for you to guide as payment for the deal we made."
"Oh half-breed, there's no need to get so excited. Though I am impressed with your skill, and can see the potential for much destruction to be wrought in my name, but I have other plans. I don't think I'll be asking you to go hunting anyone, and I will not require you to actually do any killing. No, I will simply use you as the collector. I will claim the soul and you will retrieve it for me," the demon explained, as Violet became visibly more uncomfortable at the ambiguous plan the demon was laying out. Her grip tightened on the bow in her hand, and she tried to think furiously as to what the demon was hinting at.
"Name your soul then, Mal'Vakrath," Violet spat, seeing the demon become angered by the use of his name. He bared his fangs towards her, and let out a menacing growl, but pulled back and relaxed into a smile.
"I claim the soul of Monastral Darkmoon," the demon boomed, and clutched his hand tightly in the air.
"NO!" Violet screamed, as Monastral felt the fire of his disease flare up inside him, consuming him from the inside. He stumbled, spat blood, and collapsed onto the grass, dead. Violet rushed to him, turning him over, pressing her hand still clutching the bow to his chest and weeping. Her hot tears splashed onto her brother, and a moment later she watched a light build in his chest. As the light reached a pinnacle of brightness, it was violently ripped from his chest and absorbed into the bone handle of her bow. She stood suddenly, screamed in rage, and threw the bow at Mal'Vakrath. She charged the demon wildly, and when she reached him, he flicked on talon at her, and sent her flipping through the air. She landed hard atop her brother's corpse, and she stayed there, letting her tears flow freely. Mal'Vakrath watched her and laughed at her plight, tasting the pure anguish Violet emanated. Abruptly, her crying ceased, and the demon watched as she raised herself up slowly, regaining her footing. She walked to where the bow lay in the grass, picked it up, wiped the tears and blood from her face, and stood before the demon once more.
"I need to make a deal with you, demon, so let us set the terms."
"I had hoped you would come to that conclusion," the demon sneered at the half-drow, "and I am ready to bargain. There is an innkeeper in the city of Westvale, a dangerous man with an even more dangerous fate…"
Violet's eyes were darker than they ever had been as she met the demon lord's gaze, "He is already dead."