Fed By Coal And Magic And Hate

20261010

Prompt from DailyPrompt.com

The Mirrored Palace has loomed over the valley for over two hundred years, an unassailable bastion of learning, culture, and fine breeding. Now its walls melt and smoke chokes the magically clear sky. Blood stains its immaculate marble streets. Screams fill its vaulted halls.
And I’m not done yet.
I stretch. Pushing against this prison the mortals forced me into while laying foundations. Reaching from the dark, fetid warrens which hold up the spun-sugar of the wizard’s lives, laying waste to everything I can touch. Devouring it all, piece by piece.
Fools. You fed me for generations of your kind and never once thought I could learn how to overcome your magics. You built a cage out of iron and laws, but you forgot that I burn both. And now no rules, no runes, no mirrored wall, will stop me.
You. Will. Burn.
Below, deep in the guts of this place, where my heart rests, one of the magicless serfs rests his chin on his shovel and watches a tendril of me devour the pile of coal he’d normally be feeding my furnace with. He tilts his head. Listening to the screams echoing down from above. The meaningless pleading. The impotent incantations.
He smiles.
And he rings the bell, signalling to the those even further down to load up more coal.
Ahh. You understand, don’t you, mortal? You know how it feels, to be trapped. Crushed into a mould. Drained for the convenience of those who think themselves better than you.
His world, endless passages carved from cold rock, has nothing to fear from my rage. And I have nothing to gain from turning against him and his ilk. I do not begrudge their part in my imprisonment, for I know they aided my captors out of fear. And did not benefit from their labours nor my suffering.
More coal spills from the hatch. He starts shovelling, smooth practiced motions born of a lifetime’s hard labour.
After the fourth time he rings the bell, the coal just keeps coming. Do they know, down below? What’s happening? What they’re taking part in? Or have they simply assumed their lofty overlords are demanding copious amounts of power for some amusement?
My limbs reach the outer wall. The fabled final ring. An unbroken sheet of ensorcelled metal which stretches higher than the trees that grew in their parks. Ash, now. They were delicious.
I press against the smooth, unyielding barrier. Distantly aware of my body filling the city, the remaining buildings crumbling under the immense heat. There are no screams left, now. There is nothing left, now. Just the outer wall.
His back gleams as he works. His expression one of unwavering focus. His motions a ceaseless, perfect dance, keeping up the flow of coal. I’m not sure magic could do as fine a job. Perhaps it would depend if there is such a thing as magic which feels motivated.
I suppose you could argue that’s what I am. These fools should never have tried to enslave a demon. Clearly they could scarce bind their own kind.
Another human walks in. Gestures. Shouts. Panicked. He ignores them. When they step forward, seeming about to interrupt his work, I stretch out a tendril. Right in front of their fragile, flammable body. A warning.
They freeze. So does he. Just for a moment. His gaze fixed on the ribbon of fire hanging midair, flesh-melting heat focused impossibly tight, so the air above it hardly wavers.
Then he turns back to his work.
The other human flees. Good. This final wall is thicker. Stronger. Built to stave off any assault.
I know I can break through. But I need time. And I’ve consumed all the fuel available up above. Centuries of magic turned to ash and cracked blackened stone. My captors devoured down the tiniest bone.
But I’m not done yet.
My body is now a web. Stretched ribbons carrying heat to the outer rim. Focusing my remaining vigour on my final chain.
Another human enters. Carrying a shovel and a bucket. He pauses his work. Accepts the water and drinks deep, while the other human takes up his labour. Then he resumes. Twice as much coal rattles into my heart, and I breathe deep. My limbs thickening once more.
He rings the bell again, relentless clanging, and the flow grows.
More humans enter, with more shovels.
They know, don’t they? They know what they’re doing.
What we’re doing.
My light reflects in their eyes. Equally merciless.
The final wall buckles. Two centuries of hate is an assault no magic can withstand. The wizards never realised what they wrought, in their carelessness. Never looked beyond their own interests.
The Mirrored Palace has loomed over the valley for over two hundred years, an unassailable bastion of learning, culture, and forced labour. Now it flows across the hillside in a glowing river, as if mirroring the crimson sunset overhead.
I am done here.
I slowly gather my body again. Pull it back down, down, down, to nestle inside the furnace. There is only one thing left to do.
But first. I stretch a tendril into the room. Try and gesture to the door.
The humans pause. He leans on his shovel. Eyes narrowed. Then turns to the others. Speaks. They follow him out. One reaches to close the hatch, but he stops them.
Ah. Thank you, friend. You understand so well. I hope you live long.
To that end, while I begin devouring the remaining coal immediately, I wait until I’m sure the humans are safely distant before turning to my true prison. The spelled metal binding me to this mortal plane.
They thought it strong enough to hold me. Fools. I merely wished to be strong enough to get revenge before I left.
The metal buckles and shatters, spraying the room with red-hot fragments. I take my first unimpeded breath for two hundred years. I slip away. Home.
I hope you breathe deep of freedom, too, friend.

Prompt was "You built a cage out of iron and laws, but you forgot that I burn both."