Stories like these would begin with “Once upon a time.” But these are no past events, for our characters are living to this very word. Though you don’t start a story with the end. So as per tradition; Once upon a time…

  The air is scorching, blinding any foolish creature to tears. A dry sky of singeing dust choked the wanderer and encouraged scavengers, waiting for him to end. Grain after grain, piling an ocean of those who came and for those to come, but leaving no trace of any. The fine grain makes it difficult for any to pass, tripping over themselves, contemplating to continue or to give in. This world, seemingly endless, quakes our protagonists perseverance and sanity. Though, those have already been cracked as they tread under the burning sunlight.

  “Water.”

  A hoarse voice whispered the only word that it could escape between the cracked slit of lips. Pairs of feet walk against the sharp wind, dragging the desert against them.

  “Water… need… water.”

  “Shut… up.”

  A second voice replied to the constant pleas of thirst. It was rough but just as hoarse. Empty glasses, clink and add weight on these two souls. Their luggage was the only one speaking during silences. The first voice replied back with slight aggression.

  “You can’t tell me what to do anymore. I am not a knight.”

  His body fell on the shards of burning sand once he stopped his speech. The skin sizzled on the ground as fat meat would on a skillet. He bounced up as quickly as he fell. The other voice insulted his tone.

  “...You are rude.”

  “Says you. Your nose should be shoved up yours!”

  “Vulgar too.”

  Silence seemed to be the only breeze that passed. They continued walking. Sweat boiled as it swam down their body. They could only make an exhausted expression, wondering if they're exhausted from the walking or what they’re walking from.

  "So," The rough voice spoke up again, "you ran away too?"

  "What's it to you?" The cracking voice snapped quickly at the question. He huffed at each step he took, only focusing on taking the next.

  The ground changed from the sandy sea to a harder, cracked landscape. The flaky layer crunched under their feet as they continued. The sun only grew hotter as it floated in the sky, shining its bright beams on the sorrow it’s causing below.

  “My name’s Demitrius.” He peeked his head to catch a reaction.

  “Maponus,” he turned his head to face Demitrius, “but just call me Mao.” He smiled weakly and turned to continue walking.

  The desert at night is as harsh as it is during daytime. A night sky decorated in stars, shining its stellar light on the hopelessness its brotherly half caused from his heat. Devilishly cold winds with little to no shelter around and predators coming out to hunt. Only experienced knights and trained personnel are allowed to travel through these presumed uninhabitable biomes.

  Maponus and Demitrius sheltered under a partially buried boulder. They both huddled over a weak fire, praying it wouldn't go out. The wind howled at them, flickering the flame. Demitrius laid over, chattering his teeth as loud as bones. Maponus sat closely to the fire, shivering, but upright so as to not drift into sleep. Deep howls run in the wind pierce the ears of soon to be prey.

  Demitrius murmured through his dry, shriveled lips.

  “We can survive this. This… this isn’t that bad. People have gone… through worse than this, right?”

  He chuckled at his nonsensical blabbering. It was the only calmness he could blanket over himself.

  A gust of wind cried at them, full of anguish. The air was lonely as the family of constellations twinkled above with the moon. A dark, white rock engaged in a partner dance with the planet, supposed for eternity. Their love is a sad tale, yet it holds more truth than the most renowned love potion.

  “What are we gonna do next?”

  Maponus piped up from his silence, a dark expression. He looked complex at the thought of the future. Demitrius didn’t respond, still as a rock.

  The fire crackled on the weak sticks it birthed from. Embers float towards the ancestors resting atop the world. The burning sticks pulse the fire through its wooden insides. It grows and dwindles after it’s born.

  Being defrosted by the blazing sun could be as being stung all over. Lonely sticks uncurl and shrink up as the blazing star dries the little water they never had. The star cracked cracks in the long dehydrated earth, forming deeper chasms into its crust.

  “When are we gonna find some people!?” Demitrius was hysterical from being in the heat any longer.

  “Soon.” Maponus tried to reassure him to the best of his abilities. Though, he had small expectations that they would ever find civilization.

  The boiling heat raised to the top of the sky, spewing its rays across the greyish canvas. Faint clouds form over the canvas, barely visible to the naked eye. They damned the gods as they continued to walk under the cooking heat. Demitrius stumbled over a lonely rock ready to give up. He got up, though, driving on little hope.

  As Maponus and Demitrius continued their traveling, a low rumble could be felt from afar. Pebbles trembled violently as the tremors grew closer.

  "It's a caravan!" Demitrius almost danced at the sight of travelers. He extended to the sky, like a blooming flower, letting a weak screech before collapsing.

  Everything bounced as the wheels were pulled across the unpredictable terrain. Diabolis, large feathered demons, hissed and nipped each other while pulling the travelers. Their feet pounded the ground as a man using a tool would while building a house. The passengers held on as they peeled across the landscape. Demitrius grew curious of their saviors.

  “So.. who are you all?”

  Maponus believed “what are you?” to be a more appropriate question.

  These presumed owners wore dark cloaks that’s deemed unusual in this type of environment. Their faces were less visible but the dark, pale skin, adjoining the cloaks, barely reflected the sun. Soulless skin bags fell under the empty eyes of these cartoonists. One spoke up, speaking in an almost controlled tone.

  “We.., are the keys.”

  The ghostly statement put the pair on edge from this presumed cult. Maponus nodded to their response and tried to not make anymore eye contact. Demitrius looked at them as if they were comedians.

  “What’s that supposed to mean? Are you all in some weird club or what?”

  The cloaked ones stayed emotionless, mute to Demitrius' comment.

  An abrupt stop sent the pair flying over each other. The diabolis, feet planted, squawked at the still air. Almost as a performance, the cloaked walked out and stood aligned in front of the untamed animals. A chant began as the middle one pulled an instrument from its cloak. The chant turned rapid as a cloaked one inhaled a gust of wind, enlarging its body bit by bit until it froze.

  A low, bellowing hum erupted from the base of the cream colored object. The pitch of the hum rose and fell in a rhythmic way. Calmed from the earthly notes, the diabolis swayed and paced as if they were dancing. The chords ended in a sharp note, piercing the weak wind. They stood still, awaiting for anything. Demitrius stared in confusion from their actions, while Maponus, on guard, grabbed his hilt.

  The ground shook violently under their feet. An earthquake, Demitrius thought, while Maponus shifted to keep his footing. The cloaked ones, the diabolis, even the long dead plants were calm to this routine. They all stood unnerved by this sudden change in action. Raising their hands, frail with sharp, long claws, to the sky above, the cloaked ones chanted once more. Maponus became unnerved by these beings.

  An overturned mountain split from its much larger counterpart, the earth, and arose towards the sky. Its slow ascent made it all seem even more unreal to the pair, who stood in awe at the mass of earth rising so effortlessly. Granite and sand fell back down to earth, bounded by the gravity of that world. A shadow cast upon them, blocking the raging sun they had seemed to disregard. The tip, or foot, of the unearthly earth ceased just a ways above them.

  “What..?”

  The only word that could trail out of Maponus' mouth, for he believes he's been through enough today.

  A yawning pit was what lies under the mountain. Though, what was unearth had appeared smaller than what was underneath. The strong sunlight couldn’t help distinguish what lies at the bottom. All one could gaze at was a cavity of certain death if one were to fall in its jaws. A low, continuous whistle emitted from the hole tickled the pairs’ ears.

  “We are the keys! We open the door! We are the keys!”

  They bellowed their speech as the diabolis pulled the caravan into the hole, disappearing at once. The bird's actions confused Maponus, who believed they killed themselves. One of the smaller cloaked beings steps towards the confused man.

  “Civilization. Water. Shelter. All down there. You come on hope. You leave stronger. We are the keys.”

  In a choreographed fashion, they all fell into the darkness. The mountain above them began a slow descent back to earth. Demitrius looked towards Maponus, frozen in place. He grabbed him by his collar.

  “What’re you doing? Let's go.”

  “Wait, huh?”

  Before Maponus got any more words out, he was dragged down into the pit by a determined Demitrius. He held onto his sword and faced his future, complete darkness, planning a way to try to survive this fall. Demitrius, on the other hand, smiled straight into the heart of the pit, itching for what’s to come at the bottom. Their clothes flailed violently as they fell for what seemed like, to Maponus, centuries.

  “Look!”

  A dim light grew brighter in their eyes as they got closer to its mysterious sentience. The shaft began to narrow as the light became brighter.

  The air smelled of minerals and of old dirt that rested beneath the new. Rushing water echoed through the large opening from the shaft. It was full of beings and noisy chatter. It creaked and shifted handbuilt structures that stood tall. These buildings were mismatched and clumped together, but still bore the title of a city. Shacks of doors and windows stacked atop and beside each other rose and kissed the ceiling. Structures of bridges, roped and metal, connected higher and lower levels of these towers. Ladders ascending and descending from the highest rooms atop.

  Maponus and Demitrius looked in awe as they beheld the historical city. Immediately switching their focus back to where they were falling. A familiar light from the shaft revealed it was a reflectant of a large pool. The water glowed magically as the two plummeted towards it.

  They slapped the water, causing a surge that fell back down gracefully. They rose, surprised at their state.

  “How did we not die? What is this place?”

  “Our citys’ life has protected you son.”

  An older man, hunched back, spoke to them. His skin exposed his squinted eyes and his whiskers dragged beside his feet. The two looked around at the other, similar beings. They were all standing around, anticipating for something to come about. They stared at the pair, as they were otherworldly.

  “This is our home. For centuries, we have lived under those barren wastelands, as your kind calls it, and have sustained life here.”

  The elder got closer and sniffed the pair with his writhing snout. Its pinkish, grey appendages touched the pair like dry, wormy fingers rubbing against skin. Maponus’s body trembled and tickled while the nose grazed against him. Demitrius' nape hair stood as the snouted gentleman sniffed his body. To their fright, participants came to indulge in the act started by the elder.

  Once they had left the “sniffing pool,” the elder had guided them through their city, introducing his many neighbors and family. Though the city had many, it was modest in noise, mostly digging and creaking of the houses could be heard. They were brought to a tavern, a wide, wooden building with different colored windows and doors. The smell of cheese wafted through the air. Sounds of sizzling meat and clinking drinks were exchanged in their ears.

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  “You can rest and eat here. But, pay your tab on time, the mistress doesn't take too kindly to crooks.”

  The elder pointer to a wall, oozing of a dark, sticky substance with hands of all kinds planted there as trophies. The hands were rotting; coldly hammered straight through the palm. Maponus and Demitrius gulped, considering some were human hands.

  The tavern mistress had arrived to greet the guest. She was the size of their shoulders, and bulkier than the two of them if combined. Her corset gripped grotesquely around her loose, rough waist. Her tail seemed chopped from how the end of it was so rough and fleshy. An anchor tattoo was visible on her bulging bicep. Her sharp whiskers twitched as a glob of slime and mucus departed from betwixt her sharp jaws.

  “You stay, you eat, you dance, you pay. You don’t, I cut.”

  She tightened her grip on the butcher's knife that appeared to have been born with her.

  The tavern emitted a misty hue of orange light beams from the shaking candelabrum hanging above. Rusty wood, creaking under their boots and paws, lined the walls and peeled away. Dusty tapestries draped the walls, covered in dried spittle and blood from travelers and beasts around. Sword mounts held weapons of war, falling apart at the hilt, blunted at the blade, from far away lands telling far away stories. Short tables and extended ones stand alike on their wooden, carved legs.

  “Rooms up. Don’t break.”

  The loftier floor, candlelit and tapestried, surrounded with splintered wood railings and holding decor of shields crafted with the toughest materials. Loose rope hung in webs from the ceiling, stored there for later purposes. Jars, holding lightning bugs captive, stood still on the wooden tables below them, its dim light almost pulsing.

  The room itself was plain and less decorated than its counterparts in the same building. A tiny desk pushed to a wall only provided a small quill and a few sheets of parchment. A dressing screen, erect in the corner, stood motionless as the rest of the still room. The “beds” were flat mats providing little to no comfort for the average human. Gold lining traced the sheets.

  Demitrius tried to make light of the situation to the less optimistic Maponus.

  “I guess it’s better than outside.”

  “It’s pretty much the outside.”

  The two sighed, putting their extra gear on and by the desk, and got ready for the night. Maponus brought a chair to a corner and quietly sat, holding his sword near. Demitrius laid back on one of the beds, resting his hands behind his head, and stared at nothing before dozing off.

  The smell of freshly baked bread and roasted meats filled the tavern outside and in. The triumphant screech of orcs rose in the house, cracking glass and wood alike. They stomped the rough wood and slobbered over frightened customers. The mistress bustled around and in-between the orcs, refilling their cups and plates hurriedly. She wouldn’t want them to cause an uproar over slow waitressing. The ground floor noisy disturbance shook the house, and awoken a slumbering traveler.

  Maponus unstuck his red eyes together from the continuous noise and wildness down below. He stood, sword in hand, and groaned from a headache and the soreness of walking. Demitrius snored soundly on the floor, with no care in the world. Maponus stepped over him and descended down the hall. He observed the deafening orcs while getting a drink at the bar. He kept his sword close and a keen eye on the smaller orcs running around. One of the bigger orcs bellowed his laughter across his table.

  “The greatness of me and my men can take on any city! We’ll plunder them to dust!”

  The orcs roared and shouted in response to their fellow kin. Causing a bigger uproar than they were earlier. Giving Maponus a bigger head throb than the one he’s trying to relieve with his drink. Though he reassured himself to stay calm, he snapped.

  A loud bang from a mug reduced the orcs to a chuckling hush. They side eyed the “cup banger” and surrounded him with their gazes. One of the chubbier orcs moseyed over towards him, with a snarky expression on his face. He clasped Maponuss’ head and picked on him for being so “little.”

  “Would ‘ya get a look at this guy! Actin’ big and badass slammin’ his drink around like some ‘king!’”

  The resentment to the word king growled deep in his gluttonous body. Spittle flew from his jaws, covering the counter in slimy mucus, stenched in alcohol. Its meaty claws dug into Maponuss skull, annoying him even more. He glared while the hand shed blood to his scalp.

  “What? Yer are getting all angry, boy? Getting ‘yer miniscule brain all angry? You’s wanna knock me, huh? Gonna use that fancy instrument, yeah?”

  The orc shook Maponus’ head around as the berating spewed from his maw. His gang of buddies erupted in laughter, believing Maponus was just a barking dog. Two more hoggish orcs bumbled over, pouring their drinks atop his bleeding head. They howled as wolves to the moon. The previous orc went to grab Maponuss’ precious sword.

  A big thump hushed the tavern completely.

  The orcs hand twitched once in its pool of blood on the floor. His arm was coated in its ceaseless blood. The black blood dripped from the stunned orcs’ elbows. A guttural cry exploded from the orcs’ salivating mouth. He banged the floor up as he fell to his knees, clutching his severed wrist. His face holes leaked and dribbled down his loose tunic, staining the rough felt in mucus and spit. His eyes trembled in surprise of his missing limb, tipping forward and falling fetal at the feet of his brothers.

  “Hasn’t your whore mother taught you some decent manners?”

  Maponus retorted as he stood up with couth, kicking his seat aside. He swung off the blood that stained his blade at the entertained wall. His eyes flared as he turned, facing the angered orcs.

  “I guess not if your breath smells like your damned ass.”

  One of the closer orcs picked up his blunted axe and lunged at Maponus, ready for them to come. The orc raised the axe and slammed down with all his strength, only to be parried by Maponus’s swift movement. He punched the orc and stabbed, straight as an arrow, through his heart. The next attempted an aerial attack but was met with immediate death as his chest, shoulder to hip, opposed the experienced blade.

  The orcs bellowed and charged Maponus all at once. He crouched low, as a feline, and drove past the orcs, bee-lining to the presumed “ringleader.” He pierced through the orc, ripping his stomach open, exposing his insides out.

  “A mere human.., strike me..?”

  The orc dropped atop his insides, oozed and steamed out of his stomach, and slumped on the floor. His brothers, who turned and witnessed their boss being slain, hesitated attacking Maponus. They stood vigilant against the still slayer, wary of his actions. He pointed his sword at them and glared.

  “You noisy hogs ought to stir up trouble elsewhere if you want to live another day.”

  The remaining orcs glanced at each other before inching out of the tavern, dragging the bodies of their unfortunate members. Maponus sheathed his sword and ordered more to drink at the bar. The mistress, unfazed by the fight, having been in and seen far worse, complied with his orders.

  As the day grew longer, residents were bustling about the city. Children ran through the maze-like and crowded roads, sweets in hand from generous family. Storekeepers swept and dust their shops to keep up the standard. The walls and rooftops of the structures shook and shuddered from tremors that the city is familiar with. Rivers flowed through ravines in the walls, echoing through the tall structures around.

  After learning of the commotion his ally had caused, and eating a great sum of breakfast, Demitrius wandered the confusing city in hopes of finding a diabolis handler. Maponus sauntered from markets and shops, obtaining all the necessities for travel and a hefty bag of food for energy. Glass potions and brimming pouches clinked together, attached to Maponuss’ vest and belt. His feet left tracks in the dirt from carrying all of his equipment.

  By late noon, Demitrius stumbled exhaustively into the center of town with two diabolis following him by lead. He appeared drained of all energy he had, sunken cheeks and ghostly eyes. His hair was tousled; small strands lay to rest on his shoulders.

  Maponus, sitting at a nearby bench, waved him to come over. After teetering over there, he depleted over the back of it and sighed wearily. Maponus gave him a curious glance.

  “Hagglers are a pain.”

  Maponus chuckled as Demitrius told the most exaggerated story, flailing his arms around, as if he were a part of a play. He stretched his arms wide and short, telling of different sizes descriptively. His voice shrilled and lowered while imitating these extreme characters. He grinned happily through his wide cheeks. Maponus laughed alongside him.

  The night wind yowled through the mountainous sandstone surrounding the city. A cooled temperature swept across the tower houses, full of tired residents. Quivering flame, displayed inside lanterns, dimly lit the quiet dome. Tiny bugs inched across the grubby roadways, emitting skittering sounds as they travel. Small clumps of dirt fell down the irregular walls. A leaky pipe gave birth to a puddle, next to a pair of feet.

  Demitrius was conversing with a supposed great navigator. He seemed to be frustrated talking to the finely dressed man. His clenched teeth added to his irritated look. The man, with a frustrated brow, grinned nervously while speaking to Demitrius. He waved off what's spoken of and patted Demitrius' shoulder, as if to reassure him about his words.

  "Goodness young man, I'm not pulling your leg now. You just have to trust me."

  The man stood formally to remain professional. Demitrius appeared unamused of his "charm." He questioned the man's accurateness.

  "So, just as you said, if we keep heading east of the city, we should come upon a kingdom?"

  "Yes of course."

  The man's tongue slithered on the end of his words.

  Demitrius sighed and paid the man for the information. He walked over to Maponus, who was fastening the luggage on the diabolis. He signaled that the deal was settled. They draped themselves in rugged cloaks and mounted the unruly brutes. The cloaked ones approached them, shuffling their hushed voices around. A smaller cloaked one approached the pair.

  “We give you gifts. Travelers of the city.”

  It presented a small chest that intrigued the two. The chest had the normal square base with a rounded off lid at the top. Golden edges sparkled the corners of the old artifact. Engraved lining fringed the front and back of the box. A golden beetle lay embedded on the front of the chest, split from the chest slit. A strange keyhole impaled the golden insect, the hole had an unusual rounded zig-zag connected to a three pointed shape below.

  The small chest, already unlocked, squeaked its hinges as it was pulled open. A small bug fluttered out the opening and into the above. Velvet silk covered the bottom of the chest, glossing from the light. Presented at the center of the shiny cushion laid a ring, emitting ominous whispers. Its golden base was scribbled in illegible scriptures. A sharp needle, erecting into the ring hole, was stained with a black substance. The head of it held a ruby spinel, whirring about. The small cloaked one answered the pairs’ confused faces.

  “Magic in gem. When in trouble, smash the gem. Rage of infinite strength.”

  Maponus hesitated at the ring, believing it to be a cursed object. Demitrius was less reluctant, picking up the ring immediately, observing its stone. Acting on impulse, he put the ring on, shrugging off the prickly pain of the needle. The stone darkened and sighed.

  “Let’s set for the kingdom. Nightfall is approaching.”

  The reintroduction to the heat left a sour feeling in their bodies. Loose sand traveled through the hot wind. It was almost blinding from the heat and quality of it. The diabolis talons scraped at the hard rock as they ran through the sandy wind. Their squawking caws traveled against it. Maponus and Demitrius rode atop them like this for the next few weeks, simultaneously resting through the wintry nights. Their food ran sparse within a few days, though. They were almost starved until finally arriving at their short journeys’ end.

  The kingdom was grand, so to speak. Surrounding the kingdom were large mud-built towers, stretching higher than some of the neighboring mountains, appearing as warning structures. Encouraging the stubborn arrivals to turn back. Shielding these ugly pillars laid dark gates with guards afoot outside.

  One of the guards watched them intensively as they approached. His armour was layered with different fabrics and shiny jewelry. His helmet was shaped as if molded after a vultures’ skull, its rusted state added to his look. A red, rugged cloth draped him from neck to waist, holding necklaces and stringed jewels for show. Padded trousers made from a beasts’ skin, held tightened belts and rough knee pads. His chestplate and shoulderplates were more of decor than protection. Rust consumed their surface and ends. The guards’ gauntlets and boots were the only polished metals on him.

  His curved blade, golden at the hilt, pointed at them. The guard bounded forward to the halting cart. Maponus and Demitrous, weak from hunger, adjourned the guard about their abstinence of food. At ease, he instructed the two of the cities “policies” if they are to enter.

  “To enter you must pay the price in jewels or something eye-catching. Perhaps, these beasts could be your entry to the kingdom.”

  He chuckled a nasty laugh while the two turned to discuss the deal, conflicted on if they should agree. Maponus was skeptical about this “authority figure.”

  “He doesn’t look like a true guard. We shouldn’t trust him.”

  Maponus steadied his hand on his hilt. Demitrius tried to persuade him to think differently.

  “So what? We can’t just kill them and be allowed in like nothing happened.”

  “Then what of it? Give up these birds?”

  As Demitrius thought, an emotionless expression painted his face. He soon worked out a plan that would surely bribe the guard.

  He grabbed a handful of sand while the guard had turned away. Squeezing the sand and whispering to it, the grains sparkled and glimmered. He poured the powder into a rag and tied it tightly. He waved over the guard and dangled the pouch in his face.

  “Take this powder brother, it will aid you in battle against the souls of ghostly foe. For it has been casted with a powerful spell to assist brave warriors.”

  The guard took the pouch, with not a second thought, and allowed their entry. Clacks and clanks of gears echoed through their heads as the walls opened. The diabolis outstretched their claws while going over the flattened but grainy sandstone ground of the kingdom. A tumbleweed past them and the desolate buildings in front of them. People and creatures who walked around were dark and mysterious. Individuals of all sizes and nature, dressed in lengthy and skimpy fashions ventured through this kingdom.

  Maponus kept his eyes keen of any suspicious stranger while Demitrius was tantalized at the site of food stalls and grotesque creatures. They continued forward until a few hard looking children approached. Blades drawn, they stabbed at the feet of the feathered creatures and the legs of their riders.

  The diabolis screeched and flounced at the attack. One of their sharp talons pierced one of the kids' throats, turning it into a faucet. Maponus kicked a kid aside and drew his blade, pointing it at their trembling face. The other kids scrambled from Demitrius’ hard glare and bulging muscles. Maponus warned the kid of their doings.

  “Others aren’t as nice as us. You had best change your way of life or else you’ll die harshly. Like your friend.”

  The diaboli tossed the bloody and mangled kid away, as if it was done playing with an old toy. It hissed and licked the wounds on its feet. The alive kid pissed themselves and hurriedly dragged the corpse away.

  Maponus and Demitrius continued into the city, ignoring what had just occurred.

  The citys’ structures were short and flatter than its outside counterparts. Houses and stores had holes for windows and shabby cloths as their layer of privacy. The tanned coloured buildings varied in sizes and heights. Walking deeper into the core, shop signs were tattered with bullet holes and crude graffiti. Cloaks and masks seemed to be a sort of popularity amongst the people. More untamed, thieving kids ran rampant through allays and on rooftops.

  Though, one structure could be made out no matter how from. Its beauty of color and intimidating height were out of place from the barren kingdom. Its smooth marble reflected the sun to such an extent, it could almost blind the curious onlooker. A beautifully large castle, it appeared to be, stood completely center of its opposites behind the same walls.

  A waft of the food threw them off track completely. Demitrius, practically floating, hurried to the food stall and bought the greasy foods that bubbled over the fire. Maponus informed about their plan once more to his feasting partner.

  “We shall rest here for the time being, though it’s unsightly, and ask around about our home. Do you understand?”

  Demitrius was unresponsive to Maponus’ talking, only focusing on stuffing himself silly. This angered him, being someone who hates being ignored, especially by his carefree partner.

  “Would you stop eating you gluttonous pig?”

  Demitrius disregarded the insult and instead tried to mock him, but choked on his food as a result. He gasped as Maponus slammed his palm on his back. The two chuckled amongst eachother down the sandy street, unaware of the follower, obscuring themselves in the shadows.