Private Finished Time to face the strange changes

(Oceania Park. May 18th. Early evening.)

It was not an ambush. Maarab had been right in that. He had also been right to think time was running out before he would have to make a decision. Less than a week after his chance discussion with Felen, Maarab had been informed via his link with his father that someone was arriving to escort him home because he'd delayed too long in responding to the original order. Now his options were to return home, accepting whatever punishment his slow obedience entailed, or to fight his escort. And he was almost certain that would be a pointless rebellion that would leave him dead and return him home in that manner.

And even if he had thought he could defeat any escort his father sent successfully, he did not actually want to fight them. For all that Maarab was still reluctant to return, when it came down to it he would not rebel against the leader he'd been raised to obey. And aside from the knowledge so freely available here, there was nothing to keep him on the island. At home he had purpose and a place, and discipline held back chaos. So Maarab had prepared himself, using the time he had before the other demon's arrival to take care of anything he needed to do before leaving.

And now he was waiting, leaned up against a tree outside the community center. Anyone looking for him would come here eventually, and he would be ready. Maarab was prepared to wait a while, not knowing exactly how long it would take the other demon to arrive and then make their way here, though he suspected they at least would be as fast as possible. Which was why he hadn't stayed in the community center itself. That and he wanted to be alone for this.

It was not long before he saw her walking alertly down the path, one hand on her weapon. The black hair and blue skin of home blending well with the shadows. He couldn't have said which of them saw the other first, but she was the first to speak. "Maarab. I heard you had been injured, but not that you had gotten weak," she sneered.

He just laughed in answer, pushing off from the tree, dagger forming in his hand as a precaution. "Adhara." He shook his head, sending a quick telepathic message that the escort had arrived. "We can fight at the gates. I was sent for for a reason, and I imagine our leader wants no further delays." His decision made, Maarab was somewhat eager to be home quickly, to avoid considering his doubts.

"If you cared about delays I would not be here. I should not have needed to be sent. " Adhara bit off her words then gestured for him to lead the way.

Maarab did so, moving in front of her and to the side, knowing that backstabbing him now would only see her punished for wasting time. "Are you not curious about my reasons?" As he spoke the question, it struck Maarab again how much this island had changed him, that he would expect another demon, even one of his rank, to be anything more than unquestioningly obedient. It was too late to take it back, but Adhara didn't give him more answer than a negative grunt.

The flight home was spent mostly in silence.

(Shadow Demon Outpost. May 19. Early Morning)

Leaving didn't take as long as arriving - they both already knew the way. Adhara took Maarab straight away to their leader, where she was dismissed, leaving the two of them alone. Maarab had expected this would happen, but he still regretted not getting the chance to fight and clear his head before this meeting.

Maarab stood silent, head bowed, awaiting his punishment, eyes straying to the soul dagger his father kept sheathed. He had forgotten how much of a pull that piece of his soul had up close.

His father also was silent, contemplating. Maarab struggled not to laugh at the tension. When the blows came they were swift and brutal, leaving him bloodied, but much more lenient than he knew his father capable of. This was not over. "Clean yourself," his father spoke abruptly. "Return this evening. We will see how much your skills have atrophied."

There was nothing more for Maarab to do but leave.

(Shadow Demon Outpost. Late May)

Further punishment did come that night, and Maarab was reminded just how capable his father was with discipline. It was a painful lesson, though with less consequence than the one he'd received after his original discovery of Manta Carlos. The archdemon was more interested in retraining him as the outpost geared up for its return to war after its long wait. It was an exhausting process. Maarab sparred and fought. His one advantage was that he did not need to sleep, so even when there were no opponents he would train by himself. Being on Manta Carlos had not been as physically detrimental as he had worried, yet it had dulled his edge. Fighting other shadow demons who had also been raised to battle, the atmosphere of the outpost, the casual violence was all quite different from the relatively peaceful island where the tricky thing was navigating social rules.

But even he needed downtime. And when Maarab was not occupied physically, he would start to think. The outpost was so much smaller than he remembered, closed in on itself. He found himself browsing through the books in what passed for a library and being disappointed in the fact that there was nothing he didn't already know by heart. He'd try to strike up conversations, but the other demons of his rank did not seem to care about things he'd learned off island, aside from some details on the more unique weapons or creatures he'd seen, and most of it required other knowledge that he'd gained during his time there anyway.

However, lower ranked demons did take notice. Most were not so bold as to talk to the archdemon's son, yet they would listen in. Maarab noticed the occasional extra eyes, dismissing them when they did not seem inclined to fight him. It took about a week for word of his restless conversations to make their way through the outpost. He knew his regular retraining session with the archdemon was going to be different when he saw someone else present, although who the stranger was escaped him for the moment, and he waited silently for his father to speak.

The archdemon merely contemplated the half-angel for a long moment, a blade already in his hand, though not Maarab's soul-knife. "You have been away for too long to be so careless with your tales of outside. This outpost has no need of the things you have been describing in public. And it is not your place to spread these stories." He gestured towards Maarab's hands. "You are our weapon. And you are being given a chance to remain useful. Your tongue has become a hindrance - Remove it yourself or you will be made to remove it. "

(Shadow Demon Outpost. Late May.)

Maarab looked down to his own hands at the archdemon's gesture, laughing softly as he formed his shadow blade. Part of him agreed with this discipline - he had given his father reason to doubt his loyalty, and removing his own tongue would not only prove he remained obedient, it would not be a permanent injury once he died again. But there was more going on than the relatively simple punishment.

It took a couple moments for everything to come together in his head - the other demon, the opportunity to be useful, being forced to cut his own tongue if he faltered. Maarab stared the stranger down, now recognizing them as a maker of the slave collars. Then he threw back his head and laughed before attacking his father, shadow blade in hand, suddenly aware that the knowledge he'd gained made him a threat, even though the archdemon's combat skills outstripped his own. His doubts had been building, and though he'd tried to force himself back into the mindset of home, Maarab would not let himself be collared without a fight.

The battle was vicious, but Maarab had not surprised the archdemon with his attack and had no advantage. The collar-maker managed to take a strip of his shadow while he was occupied with his father's blade, wisely avoiding the two once they had what was needed. And soon his own blade faded and he was forced into hand-to-hand combat, where the archdemon's greater experience shone. With the collar forged and bound to his life force during the fight, all the archdemon needed to do was get it around Maarab's neck. A struggle and then it was done.

Maarab could feel the pressure behind his eyes, an itch at the back of his consciousness, the mental link not merely a telepathic one this time. He stood, aching, not bothering to fight further since he was aware his father could simply order him to stop, and the collar would force him to obey. He did speak though, looking directly at the archdemon, waiting for the command he knew was coming. "The information about Manta Carlos is already spreading. If you dismiss it and try to keep control of everyone with these collars. The outpost will fall."

The archdemon only frowned at the words, repeating his earlier order out loud for the benefit of their witness, even as he sent it through the collar's link. "Remove your tongue."

Again Maarab laughed, stopping only when his blade was in his mouth. It was bloody and painful, and black feathers littered the floor. The mind control at least made it quick. Maarab managed a grin when he was done, faint and spitting up blood. This had not broken him.

(Shadow Demon Outpost. Late May/June 1st.)

Wearing the collar was eye opening. Maarab didn't behave much differently, though he was no longer allowed to wander by himself, and his missing tongue had effectively stopped him from spreading stories. But he noticed how the other demons so easily dismissed him because of the collar, treating him as if he had been raised a slave, forgetting what he was capable of, and expecting him to be as cowed as the others.

Even the archdemon seemed to think he had been put in his place - his training continued much as it had before. For his part, Maarab threw himself into the training as a welcome distraction, and the collar's link was seldom needed. It was mostly used as a tool to push his limits rather than an overt punishment, at least by the archdemon.

Some of the lieutenants were more enthusiastic in using him when he was passed off to them and commanded to obey. As long as they did not damage him too much for him to be a useful weapon the archdemon did not care, and as the leader of the outpost he had more to worry about than Maarab now that his son was silenced.

So Maarab found himself with one of these lieutenants, expected to use his life drain on a captured angel that was to be interrogated on the rebuilding of one their outposts. The angel was chained, wings clipped, screaming as the lieutenant used a soul-draining knife on them. Maarab watched dispassionately, moving closer to both the angel and the lieutenant as if merely waiting for orders. He saw an opportunity, as this lieutenant had in their overconfidence neglected to command him not to attack. He knew he had a limited amount of time to act before that mistake would be corrected.

Keeping his hand out of the lieutenant's line of sight while they were occupied with the angel was almost too easy. In a matter of moments Maarab had stabbed the lieutenant's arm with his shadow blade, using the surprise to disarm them and turn the soul drain weapon on them before they could give any orders. Caught off guard by the intensity of the pain caused by even the first shallow cut managed, the lieutenant was not able to speak before Maarab stabbed him in the throat, and by then it was too late.

Maarab tossed the knife to the chained angel with a grin, but did not stay to rescue them, then calmly walked out desummoning his own blade. By the time anyone realized the lieutenant had not just sent him on his way, he was already gone.