that… he didn’t know. Thinking ahead was a new experience for him and he found it hard to look very far into the future.
When he reached the shore and gazed down over the cliff where we’d sheltered, to the ever- angry sea below, his plan changed. Grief exploded within him and he saw only one way to escape it. He’d had enough of demons and humans, slaughter and love. He didn’t know much about death, but the many corpses he’d seen over the centuries had all looked peaceful and unthinking. Maybe he wouldn’t feel this terrible sense of loss if he put life and its complicated emotions behind him.
Beranabus smiled as he stepped off the cliff and fell. His thoughts were of me and the Minotaur. He knew nothing of the possibility of a life after death, so he had no hope of seeing us again. His only wish was that our faces were the last images in his thoughts when he died.
The water was colder than he expected and he shouted with alarm when he hit. But as he sank into the new subterranean world, he relaxed. The cold wasn’t so bad after a while, and though he didn’t like the way the salt water washed down his throat, he’d experienced more unpleasant sensations in the universe of the Demonata.
That should have been the end of him, an anonymous, pointless death as Theseus had predicted so many centuries before. But beings of ancient, mysterious magic dwelt nearby and they were watching. Known to humans as the Old Creatures, they’d once controlled the world. Now they were dying, or had moved on, and only a few were left.
Some of those lived in a cave beneath the cliff which Beranabus jumped off—they were the reason Drust had gone there in the first place. They sensed the boy’s peculiar brand of magic and curiously probed the corridors of his mind. The Old Creatures took an interest in the drowning boy and instead of letting him drift out to sea and a welcome death, they drew him to the cave against his will. He washed up on the floor, where he reluctantly spat out water and instinctively gasped for air, even though he would rather have suffocated.
When Beranabus could speak, he roared at the pillars of light (the Old Creatures had no physical bodies). He knew they’d saved him and he hated them for it. He cursed gibberishly, trying to make them explain why they hadn’t let him die.
“We Have Need Of You,” the Old Creatures answered, the words forming inside the boy’s brain. “You May Be Able To Help Us.”
Beranabus roared at them again, and although he couldn’t express his feelings verbally, the Old Creatures knew what he wanted to say.
“Yes, She Is Dead, But Her Soul Has Not Departed This World. She Can Return To You.” Beranabus squinted at the shifting lights. “If You Remain With Us, Let Us Teach And Direct You, And Serve As We Wish, You Will Meet Your Bec Again.”
The promise captivated Beranabus and filled his heart with warmth and hope. It didn’t cross his mind that the Old Creatures could be lying, and he never wondered what they might ask of him. They’d said he’d see his young love again—that was all that mattered. Putting dark thoughts and longings for death behind him, he presented himself to the formless Old Creatures and awaited their bidding, leaving them free to mould and do with him as they wished.
Beranabus could never remember much of his time with the Old Creatures, even though he spent more than a century in the cavern. They taught him to speak and reason, completing his evolution from confused child to intelligent young adult.
As his intellect developed, he came to believe that the Old Creatures had lied about my return. He didn’t blame them—he knew it was the only way they could have calmed and controlled him. He accepted my death and moved on. He was older and wiser, tougher than he’d been as a child, and although he still loved and mourned me, he had other issues to focus on. He had demons to kill.
Beranabus hated the Demonata—they’d slaughtered his beloved—and the Old Creatures encouraged this hatred. They showed him how to open windows to the demon universe and explained how he could channel magic to kill the beasts. They sent him on his first missions, directing him to specific spots, targeting vulnerable demons.
Beranabus never questioned their motives. He assumed that everyone on this world hated the demons as much as he did, even though the Old Creatures were not of the human realm and seemed to be under no threat. They were more powerful—in this universe at least—than the Demonata, so they had nothing to fear from them.
As he developed a taste for killing, Beranabus spent more and more time in the demon universe, using the cave of the Old Creatures as a base which he visited rarely, when he needed to sleep, treat his wounds and recover.
One night, after an especially long spell butchering demons, he returned to the cave and the Old Creatures were gone. He would have known it even if he was blind. The magic had faded from the air and it now felt like a cold, dead place.
In a panic, Beranabus scaled the cliff which he’d hurled himself off many decades before and searched frantically for the Old Creatures. He found traces of them in a place called Newgrange. Druids had claimed the celestial dome and worshipped and studied the stars from there. But it had been built by the Old Creatures, who used it as a navigational point when travelling between worlds.
One of the Old Creatures was waiting in the gloom of the dome for Beranabus. It took the form of a small ball of swirling light, less grand than any of the pillars had been in the cave. “It Is Time For Us To Go,” the Old Creature said. “We Must Leave This Planet.”
Beranabus went cold. Without the protective magic of the Old Creatures, the world would be at the mercy of the Demonata.
“You’re abandoning us!” Beranabus cried angrily.
“We Are Leaving,” the Old Creature agreed, “But We Have Left You In Our Place. You Must Guard This World Now.”
“I can’t protect humanity by myself,” Beranabus exploded. “I can’t be everywhere at once, stop every crossing or kill every demon who makes it through.”
“No,” the Old Creature said calmly, “But You Can Try.”
“Why?” Beranabus groaned. “Why desert us now, when we need you most?”
“Our Time Has Passed,” the Old Creature said. “You People Must Fend For Yourselves Or Perish. We Cannot Protect You Forever.” As Beranabus started to argue, the Old Creature hushed him. “We Have One Last Thing To Tell You, One Final Mission To Send You On!”
“I won’t be your servant any longer,” Beranabus snarled, tears of rage hot in his eyes.
“There Was A Force Once, A Weapon Of Sorts,” the Old Creature said, ignoring his protest. “The Kah-Gash. It Shattered Into A Number Of Pieces Which Have Been Lost Ever Since. You Must Search For Those Fragments And Reunite Them.”
“I don’t understand,” Beranabus said, intrigued despite his bitter fury.
“The Kah-Gash Can Be Used To Destroy An Entire Universe. If The Demonata Find The Pieces And Assemble Them, They Can Annihilate This Universe And Remove Every Last Trace Of Mankind. But If You Find Them…”
“…I can destroy their universe!” Beranabus exclaimed.
“Perhaps,” the Old Creature said. And then it was gone, the ball of light shooting through the hole in the roof, streaking towards the stars, not even bidding Beranabus farewell.
Beranabus had a hundred questions he wanted answered, but there was no one to ask. He could feel the loss of the Old Creatures in the air. They’d left artefacts behind—lodestones charged with powerful Old magic—but their influence would fade with time, opening the way for more demon attacks.
He had to act quickly. The Old Creature hadn’t said as much, but Beranabus assumed there were demons looking for the Kah-Gash and he would have to race against them to find the missing pieces. It occurred to him that the demons might have been searching for millions of years, but that didn’t deter him. He was arrogant. He believed he would succeed where the Demonata had failed, find the weapon and deliver the ultimate blow.
