From Slave to King 1

Chapter 1:

From an early age, many of us are taught that death is just a part of life, it is not the end of everything but the beginning of something new. Death is not something to be feared or despised for it is the final chapter is a long and often complicated novel. The sequel to our lives is one we should look forward to and embrace.

Well.

I can tell you three things about death.

One, for most of us, it is not a peaceful transition into the next life.
Two, it is something to fear.
Three, no matter how complicated the life, it pales in comparison to the world that waits for you on the other side of the mirror.

My name is Dayon Marcus and this is the story of how I died . . . and how I went from being an ordinary man, a servant of kings, to being Dracus Zagon, the great dragon king of demons.


The only thing that stuck fast in his mind was the dagger that had been thrust into his gut, and the smile on the face of the man who'd run him clean through.
And it was that last memory that came back to him with startling and brutal swiftness.
Dayon's eyes snapped open and, on instinct, he bolted upright and scrambled back.
His back bumped against a craggy rock pillar and the man's hand immediately began to roam his face, chest, and lastly, stomach.
But those pale fingers found nothing of the wound that had been the end of him . . .in fact, upon closer inspection, there was nothing on him at all, not a scratch, not a scar . . .nothing.
And fates have mercy, he wasn't wearing a scrap of clothing!
Dayon drew his knees up to his chest and tried to shove the dirty blond mop of hair away from his hazel eyes, if only to look out at the dark and gloomy world that surrounded him.
It was difficult to see anything in any real detail. This place, wherever it was, seemed to be covered in a thick and impenetrable haze that blanketed everything . . .including his person.
The man tried to press himself further still against the rough and rocky support as the mist seemed to reach out with clinging fingers to draw him into the murk.
It was then that he discovered yet another surprise.
Something thick and heavy was clasped around his neck. He found it difficult to believe that the thing had gone unnoticed until now, it was so heavy that it made his shoulders and collarbone ache with the burden.
Dayon's hands touched smooth metal, engraved with a simple, yet flowing design that only his sense of touch could discern.
At the center of this collar, hung a heart-shaped ruby pendant that was veined and aglow with a dully pulsing crimson light.
That light, it seemed, was his only defense against the mist and the darkness that loomed in every direction.
Where is the name of the gods was he?
Again came the memory of the twisting dagger in his belly.
Absently, Dayon reached down and touched that spot again.
Was he dead?
Had his king really seen fit to kill him?
Worse yet, was he in the Nether Void?
He had a hard time conjuring up any other explanation. The stab wound had been a fatal one and judging from the dark and cold of this sunless place, it wasn't the Vale. He saw no light, no green. There was no warmth or beauty.
Just a shadowy nothingness.
"Oh gods, oh gods . . ." Dayon moaned, putting his head in his hands and his ducking it down between his knees.
"Fates have mercy on me . . .why am I here? Of all places, why send me here?!"
Just then, as if responding to the man's voice, a giant hulking shape stirred in the black.
Dayon froze, still as stone, hazel eyes wide and his breath strangled in his throat.
For a moment, he thought it to be a figment of his imagination, something drummed up by his panicked mind.
But, moments later, it moved again.
It was an impossibly dark shape against an already dark atmosphere . . .and the sheer size of the thing, so close to where he sat curled up, made the man's blood run cold.
He would have bolted, would have run somewhere, anywhere but . . .there was no where to go.
Part of him felt that if he left his pillar, his one anquor in this void, he would simply drop off the edge into nothingness.
So, he chose instead to stay frozen where he sat and watch as the mass of shadow slowly became flesh . . .a towering mountain of muscle that stood at least ten feet high.
The thing became a beast, with the body of something that resembled a man but with the head and claws of some monstrous lion.
A pair of crimson eyes burned at him out of the darkness and the creature stepped forward, dressed in little but rags and worn fur lined boots.
One thing that caught Dayon's eye though, aside from the obvious, was the hundreds . . .no, thousands of keys that were slung across the beast's chest on a rope.
They were packed together, scarcely enough room for them to jangle about as the creature came forward.
If Dayon hadn't been about two seconds away from wetting himself, he might have been curious as to what they were for.
DAYON MARCUS, YOU HAVE SHED YOUR MORTAL COIL AND HAVE BEEN CAST OUT OF THE WORLD OF THE LIVING
Well, that answered that question easily enough. He was dead.
YOUR DEATH, BEING OF A CRUEL AND ABRUPT NATURE, HAS LANDED YOU HERE, IN THE BELLY OF THE NETHER VOID
Another question answered. He was, for all intents and purposes, in hell.
YOUR DEATH, BEING OF A CRUEL AND ABRUPT NATURE, HAS ALSO BRANDED YOU WITH A PHANTOM COIL. THE CHAIN AROUND YOUR NECK GRANTS YOU A LIFE OF SERVITUDE AND TOIL IN THE VOID. YOU WILL BE CHOSEN A MASTER, WHOM YOU WILL DEDICATE THE ENTIRITY OF YOUR AFTER LIFE TO, WHO YOU WILL TEND TO WITHOUT QUESTION, LEST YOU BE CAST OUT OF THE NETHER AND FORCED INTO A PLACE OF NONEXISTANCE, OF ENDLESS NOTHINGNESS. DO YOU, DAYON MARCUS, AGREE TO THE TERMS?
For a long while, the man could not speak, couldn't even blink. All he could do was stare up at the giant man-beast above him.
" . . ." he swallowed hard and licked his dry lips " . . .I-I do . . .I do accept terms."
VERY WELL. THE CONTRACT HAS BEEN MADE!
The beast ripped one of the keys off of the rope about his chest and, with purposeful force, through it to the ground.
It hit and split the ground, sending blood read veins of light shooting out in all directions.
Dayon tried to press himself harder against the pillar as the ground itself crumbled away, only inches from where he cowered.
The man threw his hands over his face and cringed, preparing for whatever horrible fate might befall him.
However, he did not fall to his doom . . . and, after what felt like several minutes, Dayon decided to risk a glance upwards.
He was shocked by what he saw.
It was a woman . . .a lithe and beautiful woman to say the least.
Her body had ample curves in all the right places and her skin was the most breathtaking golden silk he had ever seen. She had hair the color of the sea and eyes like twin candle flames.
Atop her head was a pair of twisted ram's horns that were heavily decorated with gold and silver chains.
The smile that played across her lips as she reached out a long nailed and elegant hand both enticed . . . and frightened him further.
"Greetings, Dayon. I am Vanity and as of now, I am your master~"