The Madness of Duke Venomania

[Rhaps]

I wrote this partly for an English assignment, but mostly because I felt a strange urge to write it. The project was write anything you want to, like a "Make your own project," type deal, so I based a short story on one of my favourite songs, "The Madness of Duke Venomania." Honestly, when I read it to myself, I hate it. But, maybe I could get some reviews here?
*Feel free to comment in this thread, any and all criticism welcome

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The Madness of Duke Venomania- A Short Story (Loosely Based on the song “The Madness of Duke Venomania” composed by “Mothy” using VOCALOID software)


Introduction
The streets in the city of Marlon were flowing with activity as usual, but beginning to wind down for the evening. The cobblestone streets were dimly illuminated by lamp posts, giving a muddled brown tone to the city. The sky above was gray, with the purple-black of dusk encroaching slowly, ready to give way unto the night at any given time. All in all, a seemingly normal village, but upon further inspection, one notices something is amiss. There were very, very few women bustling about in this town, almost none to speak of really. Several men went about their business, pained looks upon their faces, stricken in worry, wedding bands glinting upon their hands. This peculiar scene was interrupted for a fleeting instance, when a woman in a flowing blue gown stepped out from a dreary hotel. Her hair flowed in long blonde locks and a veil of black covered her face. She moved quickly, unfaltering from a path towards a large estate on the edge of the town.
`Reaching the estate, she stepped up onto the stoop and rang the bell three times in quick succession, a nervous look on her face. The door, elegantly carved and appearing to be thick and heavy, swung gently and slowly. The woman entered without giving care to the fact that no one was behind the door to open it. Her boots clacked against the wooden floor; the only sounds from the house were the echoes of her footsteps. The walls were barren, but the wallpaper was brighter in random spots, alluding to portraits that once hung there. A candle burnt dimly in a corridor, leading downward into a basement. As the woman approached the candle light, she saw another candle set ablaze. From there, a third and a fourth burst into light. The silhouette of a man surrounded by four women was visible, the man sitting upon a large chair, his legs crossed in the dim light. The women were nearly invisible in the dark, their arms being the only things seen in the candles’ glow. The man’s voice broke the deathly silence in the estate, addressing the woman who came to the house with the simple, yet abrupt question.
“Now, shall we dance?”
The silhouette of the man rose from the chair, and a purple glow seemed to emit from him along with the candles. The woman walked forward slowly, and they both embraced, a smirk of deviance creeping upon the woman’s face…
Part 2
“So, what is your plan for today, Gar-uh, I mean, Duke Venomania,” Inquired a green-haired young woman. A tall man, no older than twenty or so and of a rather thin build stood before a fireplace, clad in riding gear. He had just returned from the Castle Marlon, outside of the town but still within the province. His father, the previous Duke Venomania, had passed away months ago, escalating his status from Marquis to the new Duke, requiring an arcane ceremony from the King of Marlon. He turned to the woman slowly, casting his gaze from under his bangs, which had grown over his eyes in recent months, and said,
“Feel free to call me Garland when we are outside of those who may judge us, my betrothed. As for today, I do believe it is time to move past my father’s passing, and usher in a time of happiness. Shall we plan a gathering for festivity?” The woman who stood before him brushed a bit of hair out of her face, and smiled at him warmly. Her name was Irene, and she had been Garland’s friend from a very young age, and was now his fiancé, or so it seemed…
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The Duke and Irene had planned a grand ball, and the Duke had decided the day had run its course and headed off to sleep. He stood in the doorway and beckoned to Irene,
“Won’t you join me in slumber? I know the recent events must have you fatigued as well, no?” She nodded, but replied,
“I’d love to, but my mother wishes to see me after being gone for so long, and it’s still early enough for me to travel to her home. I’ll be back by mid-day tomorrow, alright?” The Duke looked off-put by this, but figured he could trust her.
“Alright then, good night, until tomorrow,” he said, smiling wanly.
“I know she’ll be delighted to see me, thank you for confiding in me. Good night,” Irene said smiling back, her face concealing her true thoughts. As soon as the Duke closed his door, she turned and began walking at a quick pace to the door. She grabbed a white cloak from the hanger in the parlor, and draped it over herself before heading out. Her bright green eyes where the only thing that could discern her from a commoner now as she pushed through the evening streets. The scenery changed around her as she progressed, going from the upscale and clearly wealthy buildings and people to the tattered and tired flats and peasants. Between a small butcher’s and a bar lay an alley, and in the alley was what looked like a dead-end with a door. Irene kept her pace and walked towards the door, slowing down gradually, and stopping within a meter of the door. A low, gruff voice listed from the darkness surrounding her in the corners of the alley, seeming to echo from all around.
“What business do you have here, noble?” Realizing her cloak’s disguise was useless, Irene removed it and held onto it loosely.
“I’m here to see Mother. She is expecting me,” she said as firmly and commanding as she could. The owner of the ominous baritone stepped forward, out of the shadow and into the evening dusk light. He was as gaunt and pale as a corpse, and wore a black tailcoat and suit, his long, greasy black hair falling around his head in solid locks. A twisted smile crept across his face, for he stood behind Irene and she hadn’t a clue. He reached a gloved hand and grabbed her shoulder, while saying,
“If Mother is expecting you, the by all means, follow me, dearest.” Irene jumped and had to suppress a shriek, but began walking closer to the door, guided by the Doorman’s arm. She heard jingling as he pulled a set of keys out from his coat pocket, and from the set he isolated a smudged and dirty key, resembling the suit from which it resided in. He unlocked the dead-end door, swinging it open as a blast of freezing air hit them both. There was a flight of stairs from behind the doorway, and the Doorman and Irene descended them carefully.
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At the bottom of the stairs lay a room, and just like the alley, it was nothing but abyssal darkness in the corners. Instead of being surrounded by a voice, a candle sprung to life in the center of the room, burning in a strong, green flame. The flame revealed the candlestick it was held in, and three other unlit candles, but no more. The Doorman stepped forward in the cold, barely lit room and grabbed the candle with his grimy glove.
“Tonight it burns green,” he said, looking back to Irene, “So Mother really was expecting you. Come, follow me.” When the candle was in his hand for a few seconds, the flame somehow became black, and the light in the room nearly dissipated entirely. Seeing only his outline in the gloom begin to move forward, Irene followed carefully. The cold chill in the room grew more and more severe, each step it seemed like another five degrees was lost. Irene was about to ask to turn back when suddenly heat returned to her body. Confused, she looked ahead to the Doorman’s outline, only to see she had lost track of him, leaving her stranded in the darkness. She stood paralyzed in fear, thinking,
“Has my work been for nothing? Am I to fail here?”
No sooner than she had this thought did the candle illuminate in the center of the room again. It flared green again, only instead of being on a table it was in the hands of an old woman, who sat in a large, ornamented chair. Her hand had many strange rings and charms on it, her nails extremely sharp and painted with arcane runes on them. Irene heard a murmur from the woman, and the candle’s glow crept to encompass the entire room. Looking back, Irene saw she had walked down a long hallway from the entry door, the other three candles and the table barely within sight. She turned her head back to the old woman, now noticing the Doorman stood beside her, calm and quiet. The old woman spoke out in a voice that had been used for many, many ages,
“You come to me seeking to escalate your rank in the monarchy, yes?”
Irene responded curtly,
“Well, yes. I wouldn’t want my reputation to be tarnished by untrustworthy nobles. Were it to get out that I sought to become Queen by the end of the year, then the whole upper-society would be sneering at me! They all love the current queen Yufina, much more than someone seeking to dethrone her.” The old woman, her tired eyes, painted with strange makeup, curved into an expression of curiosity.
“So you think you can trust Mother Carmella of the Occult with this treasonous plan? I’m touched, dearest Duchess.” Carmella cackled in a gentle laugh, the type you’d expect to hear from a younger woman.
“Alright my dear, what can Mother help you with? I bet you worked hard to find me, so can’t be some small favor.” Irene looked into Carmella’s eyes, and said,
“I need an elixir that will make a man become a coward- a sniveling, crying coward.” Carmella looked puzzled, and raised a jeweled hand to Irene.
“Do tell why you’d need such an elixir?” Irene replied,
“My fiancé, the Duke of Venomania as you know, isn’t one to fall apart at the seams for no good reason. I need a reason to abandon him and move up to the next rank in the monarchy, and I hope to do so at a ball we are planning. If I cause him to become a disgrace-like a coward- then I can work my way from there. I only need this elixir from you, and my business is concluded here.” Carmella’s wrinkled face curled into a devious smile, and she said,
“I knew you would tell me the truth.” The room went pitch black and became bitterly cold again, as if the life were sucked out of it. Irene was terrified, and the last thing she felt was falling to the floor.
Part 3
The Duke awoke the next day, feeling as if something were amiss. He dismissed it as his stress with the recent happenings, and stood up to embrace the day. However, when he rose from the bed, he noticed his fiancé had returned and managed to get into the bed without his knowledge. She looked pale, as though she had been scared to death, and when he touched her face she felt very cold.
“Irene? Are you alright?” She stirred a bit, and her eyes flew open in terror. She stood up extremely fast and looked around, her chest heaving as she tried to breathe, managing only horrified gasps. The Duke clasped her hands, a concerned look spread upon his face.
“Irene, what happened?! Please explain what’s ailing you!” Irene took one of her hands back, and held it to her heart. She calmed down slowly, and when she was breathing normally, she looked to the Duke and said,
“I’ve just awoken from an awful nightmare! Although… It seems it is fading already… All I can tell you is it truly shook me. Sorry to worry you this early.” She finished smiling a bit, looking to the Duke. She knew her evening journey was real, but would keep up a façade to deter the Duke from losing any trust in her.
“I got back from my Mother’s home a bit early last night, but saw you were asleep, so I just slipped in as quietly as I could.” The Duke had a blank face, his thoughts racing with suspicion. However, he chose to trust his betrothed, and proceeded with his routine.
Upon completion, he looked into the mirror, and then to a portrait he had made of himself at the Grand Palace of Marlon. They were nearly identical, the purple hair covering his eyes, a null expression, and elegant clothing; the only difference was he wasn’t holding the strange, ritualistic book he found at the Castle Marlon in the mirror. He found the book while in his guest chamber, hidden under his mattress. It had strange recipes and instructions in it, all in strange scripture, and afraid of being charged with witchcraft, the Duke clung onto it, and it now lay within a box the Duke kept locked tightly. The only person who knew of the book was his wife to be, who now stood in the doorway of the Duke’s chamber.
“Do hurry, won’t you? The ball begins in a few hours!” The Duke thought he either slept in or took an extra long routine, for the time had slipped from when he awoke to nearly five in the evening. He hurried out of his chamber and down the hall to help wrap up the ball preparations.
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As the Duke gave oversight and direction to the cacophony and bedlam that was the main hall, Irene slipped back into the kitchen area.
“Let’s see if that was a nightmare or a true meeting,” she mumbled to herself, clenching her fists tightly, afraid that her plan may not work. She sought out the two special goblets, silver with golden trim and crystal inlays, made for the Duke’s new rank by a local jeweler. She lifted one inlaid with star shaped crystals (Her goblet had circular inlays) and then focused on her fist. The harder she thought, the more she remembered of her journey to visit Mother, and the more she remembered, the more she felt a small object materializing into her hand.
“A bit more, don’t you fail me you old hag,” she murmured, straining her hardest to bring forth the object. Her periphery began to turn black, and she held her breath and concentrated harder than she had in her whole life, until finally her vision flashed white and she nearly fell onto the kitchen floor. Luckily, there were no staff around-the kitchen preparations were done- to see the flash of white envelope the soon to be Duchess. When the flash faded out, Irene stood, dazed and disoriented, but now holding a solid green vial. On the cork was a circle with several symbols scribed around it. Irene glanced at it for just a second, and then opened it quickly, sensing her time was running short. A wisp of smoke fluttered out of it, carrying an acrid, tangy smell. She wrinkled her nose at it, but felt a bit saddened by the smell shortly after.
“If I’m saddened from a whiff, he should be sniveling with a sip,” she hoped, and then poured the vial into the goblet, then adding wine. She sniffed the drink, and sure enough it smelled like ordinary wine. Everything was going as she expected, and the corners of her mouth curled into a smile as she walked back into the main hall.
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The ball was about to take place; all of the guests had gathered in the dining hall for a dinner before the dancing began. The Duke sat at the head of the table, Irene to his left, watching intently as he drank slowly from his goblet before standing to address the guests.
“Welcome one and all to my manor! As you are all aware, we have gathered here to celebrate my ascension in the monarchy with a grand ball, and the dancing shall commence as soon as we’ve had our fill of food and drink!” The Duke boomed this with much confidence, a little too much confidence for the elixir that Irene had slipped him. She checked her goblet quickly, and was relieved to see the round crystals.
“Maybe he’s immune?” she thought to herself as the Duke pressed on with his speech.
“No, he can’t be… Although I didn’t really offer that witch anything, more of pressed my power near her… Did she scam me?” Irene’s thoughts ran with these worries yet again, until she noticed something strange with the Duke’s talking,
“…A-and when I was a boy, the former D-duke would always educ-cate me to ensure my future was b-bright…” Irene was pretty sure that the Duke hadn’t stumbled this much before when it came to matters of his father, who merely died of old age, but now she saw he had tears welling in his eyes to accompany his impediment. Irene stood up quickly, trying her best not to avoid her shot at ruining the Duke, and said,
“If he educated you so well, then why do you read books of witchcraft?” The room fell silent, and the Duke’s eyes widened in shock as he turned to her.
“Yes, I know I swore not to tell, but this blasphemy can’t go on any longer!” Irene complimented herself for a good acting job thus far.
The Duke had been trying to keep his head clear since he sipped upon his wine, but now feared he may lose his composure even further. He was usually a stoic man, and he was wholly confused when he began falling apart when merely mentioning his father, who had lived a full life with no tragedy. His talk of boyhood had been interrupted by Irene, and he could only stand victim; his energy for anything but sorrow was drained. When she mentioned the strange book he kept, he knew his name was tarnished from then on, but he could possibly keep himself from being killed, and so he said between sobs,
“I didn’t read the book on my will!” He lied as best he could; crying harder and harder as he realized everyone in the room was staring at him.
“I was drawn to it by the dark spirits! P-please! You can’t blame me for this…” He said with a loud sob at the end.
“So much for the pure and noble Venomania line!” one guest shouted, followed by another,
“It may not be your fault, but you’re not fit to hold our respect!” The Duke was bawling like a child by this point, dropping to his knees in front of the table.
“Why did I have to become so weak now?” He pleaded to himself, knowing if his defense were better he could have avoided the fiasco.
Irene was absolutely delighted, watching the Duke writhe under the pressure and pseudo-sadness. She had to contain her smile and tried to look as angry as she possibly could, when another guest threw out their opinion,
“Is he fit to court the lady Irene?” This was the epitome of her plan! Everything had fallen into place just as she hoped! She shouted,
“No! I will not harbor his secrets any longer, and since he’s now become a sniveling coward, I feel I have no honor vested with him!” The Duke looked up, the chandelier’s candles causing a glare in his vision. He saw Irene smile as widely as a Cheshire cat, and he knew then she was doing this for her benefit. The betrayal ripped through his body, and he released body shaking cries, looking to her, visually pleading for her to quit. But, her plan was too far in motion now. She had obliterated the Duke’s honor and reputation in the kingdom, putting her on the track to elevating her rank. Irene recomposed her face into a scowl, and stood from her seat.
“Let us part from the mansion of a coward, shall we?” She beckoned to the guests, and then walked out, glancing back on the Duke for a mere second as he collapsed entirely.
Part 4
Bitterness and loneliness swarmed the Duke’s thoughts and actions. Since the day of his betrayal, he lived alone in the basement of his manor, occasionally going to his old chambers to search for any clues to how Irene destroyed him. The mansion remained black throughout the day and night, only illuminating at one point in time. He had decided to burn the portrait made of himself at Castle Marlon, and any like hit. He decided it was fit to change his hair as well, the bangs no longer covering his eyes, but parting to allow his direct gaze. Some nights he sat in despair, wondering if he should end his life. One thing drove him back, however; the dream of redeeming himself and reclaiming his love. Although she had destroyed him, he still loved her. During one of these nights where he had recovered himself from the brink of suicide, he stumbled into the kitchen area of the manor. Lurching around in the darkness, he heard a shatter from under his boot. He looked down, not reeling or trying to identify the noise at first, his haggard eyes just sort of drifting downward. He noticed a glint from a shard of whatever he tread upon, and reached his thin hand down to feel it.
“A bit of glass…” He deduced, pulling his hand back, his finger bleeding. This was when the Duke made a decision that would set his life speeding away from his sulking, dark lifestyle. He stood, and walked slowly towards the main hall, untouched since the incident. He felt around in the grim black, finally grabbing a hold of a cold, bronze candle stick. He held onto it tightly, slightly afraid of what lighting it could mean for him. He would no longer have the safety of his solitude, and he knew his reputation still remained stained in the public eye. Unsure of the reason he really decided to go through with it, the Duke sought out a match in the darkness.
After marauding for a bit, the Duke happened upon a drawer. Unsure of where he was in the manor, he simply hoped he was in a room with a match, for wandering in the darkness began to affect him. “It has soothed me and given me a feeling of security, but now, I must have my prized darkness leave my side, for it would only impede on my plans,” he spoke to the still air, perhaps addressing the nothingness that he had wrapped himself in for so long. Clutching the drawer with anticipation and a bit of fear, the Duke slid it open quickly and thrust his hand inside. That’s when his adrenaline spiked, as he grabbed onto a single match left in the drawer. Everything moved slowly, then extremely fast, leaving only little blurs for the Duke to remember. The match in his hand, the candle bursting to life, his feet pounding the floor, the kitchen door, and then the shards on the floor all burst in and out of his consciousness rapidly. Everything went back to normal pace, and the Duke saw that he had crushed a vial his eyes had never seen before. Darkness crept on the edges of the candle light, the light’s brightness focused on the center of the mess; the cork with the odd circle or runes on it. Suddenly, the Duke had recalls and flashbacks involving the circle.
“That book! The damning book of witchcraft! It was on a few of the pages!” He shouted, grabbing up the cork and dashing back into the main hall and up to his chamber. Unsure of what he did with the key, he located the box holding the book and threw it against a wall with a burst of energy he hadn’t felt in months. The wood splintered, but held solid as it recoiled to the floor. The Duke picked it up and did it again, over and over until the box broke and the book fluttered onto the floor. Reaching frantically, he nearly tore a page out, but managed to get the book into his hands and flip through the pages rapidly, trying to find the one with the circle on it. Dusty and fragile pages ruffled through his hands, his eyes scanning each page at an incredulous rate. However, when he found the correct page, the circle transcribed in blue ink across a whole page, his energy died out. Revelation had never been more draining than this moment in time. The Duke looked to the next page from the circle, reading a paragraph written by the original author, and one sentence under it in Irene’s handwriting.
“The Seal of the Demonic, number 735, ‘Mother Carmella.’ Carmella is said to be easily persuaded into assisting humans who seek to boost their own power. Although her methods are wicked, her charitable nature earned her the tagline ‘Mother.’ Usually takes form of an old woman clad in jewelry bearing her Seal. She has an underling demon known as ‘Doorman’; species unknown.” He finished reading the profile to himself, and then looked down onto the note Irene left behind, “Between 43 and 45 Westminster Street. Dusk hour is the best time to encounter her, said to be when her mood is happiest.” The Duke’s mouth hung open as he finished the note, dropping the book to the floor. He now understood everything, every motive and feeling Irene ever had towards him, and yet, his love burned on. This strange mixture of love, hatred, solitude, and darkness resulted a man who had lost is humanity. His mouth closed and twisted into a smile of pure malice, his eyes opening wider than ever, hollow and purely mad.
“I believe I can find that alley, and then find that demon. Irene will once again be mine, but not only her! All nobles will pay for what they have done to me… Be prepared, Marlon! The Duke of Venomania has awakened from his slumber in darkness.” A howling fit of mad laughter left his lungs as he snuffed the candle out, the darkness returning to his side. For the first time in months, the doors to the Manor Venomania swung open, the Duke running out of them as fast as he could. The moon was full, hanging in the midnight position above him as he dashed down the street and towards the address that he learned was the source of his demise. It seemed as though the city itself was sleeping; no one was out in the streets to see the Duke running and cackling towards Westminster Street.
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The Duke slowed down as he entered the alley he targeted. His eyes were still open as wide as saucers, accenting the insane, toothy smile he bore. He was entirely in his element, darkness taking the corners of the alley. The door to the underworld were Carmella dwelled stood before the Duke, as stoic and still as he had once been.
“Now then, what have we here? Is Mother expecting you?” The omniscient voice of the Doorman boomed from all sides, showing none of the fear the owner had.
“It has been awhile since Mother’s last visitor, and she was much tamer than this thing that disturbed the entrance to Mother’s dwelling,” the Doorman thought to himself,
“I don’t think he is a human anymore, and seems like he could pose a threat. Better not let him near Mother.” The Duke cast his insane gaze directly at the door, and then turned slowly, looking to his side.
“I’m sure you think you’re being sneaky, hiding in the shadows, throwing your voice and the like. But, Mr. Doorman, you’ll have to do better if you want to scare me.” The Doorman froze, his gaunt face being the one in shock instead of his guest as he usually expected. He got his composure together and stepped between the Duke and the doorway, a scowl taking his face.
“Alright, I’m pretty sure you’ve got no pleasant business with Carmella. You may leave now.” As the Doorman said this, his long hair began to move. It slithered up his head, then covering his face like a helmet, leaving a space for his now glaring red eyes. Two pairs of black wings shot out from the Doorman’s back, and his suit became a writhing mass of deep purple and solid black shadow.
“Behold what my real appearance is! Leave this alley, or die where you stand!” The demonic Doorman stood before the Duke, poised to attack him. The Duke cocked his head a bit, his smile shrinking a small bit, as he commented,
“I daresay, that is quite the costume. Can I use it for my next ball?!” As soon as he asked, he viciously swung his fist into the Doorman’s helmet-like head. The helmet burst into greasy black hair, the original Doorman’s face revealed again. The Duke laughed his maniacal laugh, and nearly shrieked,
“You can’t do any more than play make-believe!” The Doorman’s revealed face was engulfed in pure terror; no one had figured out before that he was a demonic assistant because he only knew how to cast illusions. He fell to the ground, trying to get away from the Duke by scrambling backwards, his eyes flying open like the Duke’s, only in fear instead of lunacy. The rest of his façade vanished when he hit the ground.
“Ha ha! Look! I didn’t even have to remove the rest of your costume! You did it for me!” The Duke was hysterical with the Doorman’s fear, but suddenly his laughter stopped, and his smile dropped, and he said in a grim tone, “I wonder how much of you is still in costume.” As soon as it the Doorman realized what the Duke intended, the Duke’s boot was already in a flying arc at the Doorman’s face.
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The doorway stood just as it had before the Duke had arrived. A few feet away from it lay the Doorman, bleeding and battered, his entire being brutalized. A pool of blood was beginning to gather around him, and all he felt was pain, echoing throughout his entire body. The Duke stood above him, looking down upon his victim, seeing if he had any life left in him. A smile never left his face as he ravaged the defenseless imp. The Doorman turned his collapsed face up at the Duke, and struggled to say,
“You have…won…grgh… w-what are you? It…matters not…ugh…The doorway…will open…for you…” The Duke smiled largely, and the Doorman panted heavily as his final breath drew near. “…Monster…” he choked out, before his body went limp. A flaming circle jumped to life, and encircled the Doorman’s corpse. Five points of a pentagram appeared, and they intersected under his body. The whole circle erupted into a pillar of flame, towering high into the midnight sky. When it died down, there was nothing left behind where the Doorman was. The Duke turned around to find the doorway hanging open, almost inviting him down to visit Carmella.
There were no theatrics this time in the basement. The stairs led directly to the table with candles upon it. The candles were not lit; instead they were as cold as death. Behind the table was Carmella, who sat on her ornate chair, staring grimly at the man who had just killed her servant.
“Be you demon, or man?” She asked as the Duke approached her, still covered in the blood of the Doorman.
“I think I’m a man, but that’s all for speculation. Now, Mother Dearest, tell me; how can I reclaim Irene while simultaneously wreaking havoc upon the bastards who ended my old self?” He smiled as humanely as he could, the result looking even more manic with blood spattered on his face. Carmella recalled the name Irene, and she suddenly realized who she was dealing with. Feeling a twang of guilt in her ancient heart, she looked back to him sternly, and said,
“I have a way, but I can not foresee it ending well for you. You may be better off returning to your darkness.” Her warning almost reached the Duke’s shattered mind, but upon mentioning the darkness, his insanity spiked, and he replied,
“I’ll be with the darkness, don’t you worry. It’s my shield, and I can take on anyone with it. So, give me the way!” He said, his grin growing again. Carmella sighed, looking upon him with disdain; he was beyond her abilities to grant a happy future. Instead, her abilities to cause bedlam would have to substitute.
“Hold out your hand,” she said, almost in a melancholy tone. It was strange for a demon to feel sympathy to begin with, but the amount she felt made Mother Carmella feel almost human, if only for a fleeting second. Although she was reluctant to help the man who had killed her servant, he proved himself worthy of her help by defeating him, and it was her duty to help any forlorn lovers.
The Duke’s blood coated hand shot out at her like lightning. It shook, palm up, waiting for her next command.
“Now, I shall give you what you desire,” she whispered, the circle on her ring glowing brightly. A bit of sweat formed on Carmella’s hand, and dripped, mixing with the blood on the Duke’s hand. The result was a purple mist wafting up and then condensing into a liquid, which fell upon the Duke’s hand. It was quickly absorbed, and the Duke’s smile began to fade again, along with his raving mind. More and more steam was made as Carmella’s ring glowed, and the more purple liquid that the Duke took in, the saner he began to feel. But then, something strange washed over the Duke, a wave of feeling. This feeling was what he felt when he tried to woo Irene when they grew into young adults; the feeling of seduction. His eyes went from wide open to normal size, and then seemed to close just a little bit more, giving him a cocky stare. He looked onto Carmella, awaiting an explanation.
“Any woman who gazes onto you shall fall enchanted. Any woman you like shall be charmed instantly and desire nothing more than you,
“The Duke motioned for her to continue with extreme grace,
“When blood and sweat mix together, before long they turn into drops of purple. These drops are my gift to you. But, be warned; if they are made again, your charm will be gone, and with it, your life.” The Duke, no longer a full, raving lunatic, gazed at Carmella. She looked into his restored eyes and said,
“Take the candles. They light for the spirits in a room and can even have their colour change based on the will of the owner. I don’t know if you’ll ever need them, but I see no more use for them with the loss of my doorman.” The Duke nodded, and said,
“Thank you, demonic saint; I shall leave you now. My sincerest apologies over your servant,” he said, smirking has he turned and left.
Part 5
Lukana Octo stood outside of her tailoring shop, the full moon over her head. Today an order for an intricate dress was placed, and before she realized it Lukana had spent until midnight working on it. But now she could head home and sleep, and this was her driving thought as she began to walk down the road. “The fastest way is through that nasty Westminster Street…Should I risk going down it this late?” She almost decided to go the long way, but her exhaustion persuaded her otherwise. As she walked past building 43, a wave of dread washed over her. It felt as though an evil presence burnt in the alley just past her.
“Oh my, maybe I should turn back? No, just walk quickly,” she thought, beginning to pick up her pace a bit. Passing the alley, she looked down and saw nothing but shadow-and yet, her gaze was transfixed into the darkness. Lukana gazed harder, trying to identify anything in the alleyway. Finally the moonlight allowed her to see a door at the end.
“I-I need to go, I’m very tired. Come on legs, let’s get moving,” she pleaded in her mind, still unable to move from where she stood. Fear began to mount her paralyzed body as she stood staring at the door, until it swung open gently. A slender man with long, purple hair and glowing purple eyes stepped out and looked directly at Lukana. In that instant, Lukana’s heart grew very tight, and a sense of longing replaced her feeling of dread. Her eyes were locked on this strange man’s eyes, and love seemed to bubble effervescently within her for no real logical reason. The man smirked, which caused Lukana’s heart to melt, and he said to her,
“The demon wasn’t lying, or so it seems. Why do you stand there gawking?” Lukana shook her head and replied,
“I-I can’t quit staring upon you! I’m not really one to speak from experience, but I think I’m in love. My name is Lukana Octo.” Her face was a deep red, and she turned her head a bit to hide it, thinking she’d just caused the man to be estranged from her. His smile remained the same, but yet seemed more seductive to Lukana than before. He then said in a sly tone,
“Ms. Octo, if you feel the same way tomorrow night as you do now, come to my manor. I will be waiting in the basement, alone.” He began to walk towards her, her heart racing faster than the speed of light. He stood before her, and then leant his head next to her neck, speaking in a whisper,
“I am the Duke of Venomania.” He lifted his head and continued walking, leaving Lukana swooning in the dark alley. She wasn’t sure of exactly what happened, or what demon he spoke of, but she felt an intense desire for the man she had only met for a minute.
--
The Duke changed very little in the manor when he returned; he moved his old throne-like chair into the basement along with a table to set his candles upon. As soon as they were resting normally, the centermost candle sputtered to life, flickering with a purple flame, closer resembling a series of sparks. This mattered not; the candle’s weak light was enough to keep the room dimly illuminated, allowing the darkness to mingle with the light, granting the duke safety and sanity simultaneously. He relaxed into his chair, crossing his legs and waiting. The manor’s silence remained solid and seemingly infinite, until there came knocking at the main door. The Duke left it slightly open so that anyone who sought entrance would be able to enter quietly. This worked well, as he only heard the knocking, then a swish from the door, then the clattering of heels. Tak-tok, tak-tok, tak-tok, tak-tok. The sound grew nearer, but the Duke was in nearly no anticipation. He knew he could trust Mother Carmella, and that the walking belonged to Ms. Octo. When the doors to the basement opened gently, and Lukana slid around between them, clearly slightly disoriented by the darkness. The center candle’s flame went from a spark and into a steady blaze, as if to confirm Lukana as one of his enchanted, and the Duke spoke out,
“Today, a beautiful woman comes to me. That smiling you shall become my new wife.” Lukana’s face brightened in the light, and a large grin spread across her face. The Duke smiled warmly, saying,
“This is the beginning of something larger than the both of us my dear.” His powers confirmed, the Duke could begin his plan.
--
Temptation can affect any person, be they demon or purest of heart. The Duke didn’t only take the noble’s wives, but any woman he liked came into his embrace. Before long, he had built up a large harem of seventeen. Lukana was his first, and he had two of the key nobles in his grasp. He knew that they were the wives of the men who had spoke out against him, for when they entered his basement his candles flickered to life, the center one’s flame growing stronger. When Feuw Makai entered, the sixth girl, his right hand candle flickered alive, and the same happened when number ten, Gumina Glassred, fell to his spell. The Duke’s eyes had managed to capture the heart of even the queen, Yufina Marlon, but there was no candle lit in her honor. There was one candle left until the Duke’s harem was complete, number eighteen, his lost Irene.
The Duke sat upon his chair, the three candle lighters directly at his side.
“I believe it’s time we got the final candle burning. Dearest lovers, I will be back soon. I’m going into the town,” he said, standing up as the girls dispersed throughout the room. He knew they’d miss him terribly, but he’d back soon. The Queen had an invitation to a marriage between her son, the Prince, and Irene, and the Duke had every intention of attending. The more he thought of what his debut would be like, the more he felt like he did on the eve of his descent into insanity. He thought taking the Queen would draw a lot of attention to him, but it seems no one saw him transfix her, meaning he was still known to the masses as the Cowardly Duke. That would all be erased as soon as the preacher gave the famous option to the attendants.
--
Irene sat in her wedding gown in the back of the Church. She bet the Duke would be shattered to know that it could have been him where Prince Rufus stood if he had more power.
“Ah well, what’s done is done. I’m ready to become Princess,” she said into the vanity, gazing at herself admirably. Hard work and the right connections always paid off, or so it seemed. She heard the piano beginning, and although she had no one to give her away, she stepped out of the room and headed to the aisle. As she rounded the corner, she saw the Prince awaiting her at the end of the aisle, next to his best men and the Priest, all in clothing made by exquisite tailors. Irene did have a dress in the making, but her tailor never finished it, and she had to settle for the Queen’s old wedding gown. Stepping down the aisle, Irene thought she saw a man with purple hair on her side of the congregation, but dismissed it as her nerves. Everyone knew the Duke never left the manor since the day that her plan succeeded. As she approached the altar, the wedding began.
Everything proceeded with normalcy, the vows were spoken, the ring was given, and now it was time for the final seal. The priest spoke,
“Should anyone here present know of any reason that this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your,”-
“Why, I’d love to.”
Everyone in the Church looked around for the source of the interrupting voice. They all centered their focus on the Duke, as he stood gallantly from his pew and stared dead on at Irene, who was now as pale as Death’s horse. She hadn’t thought the Duke knew of anything concerning her marriage- what else did he know?! She began to feel weak, on the verge of fainting, but then she felt her strength recover rapidly. Irene realized she gazed into the Duke’s eyes and felt a familiar tug on her heart, one she may or may not have felt when she was with him. It mattered not; the pull was there now, and she couldn’t resist him. His eyes seemed to radiate seduction, and her lust for power was quelled for the time at hand.
“It seems I needn’t speak after all. Irene’s reaction says enough. Sorry there, Rufus. Better luck next time,” The Duke said in a sarcastic tone, nearly laughing as Irene slowly wandered to his side. As the Duke left with his prize, the final candle jumped to life back in his basement. The women all knew he had succeeded, and were happier than ever now that their beloved Duke had gotten his ultimate desire.
--
“Bastard! Cowardly bastard!” The Prince yelled, back in a hotel near the Church. He threw a glass vase across the room, shattering it against the wall.
“I will destroy that sniveling wretch with my own hands! How dare he ruin MY wedding?! With MY love?! “Irene had captivated the Prince as well as the Duke had managed to entrance his seventeen, now eighteen, harem women. Noticing the recent disappearances, one of which including his mother, The Prince had a little fear of Irene disappearing, but he hadn’t expected it to be a man who dwelt in his basement for the past months. His yellow coat fluttered around him as he paced angrily, trying to determine the best way to destroy the devil dwelling in the nearby manor. Although he was unsure if Irene truly loved him, he knew he loved Irene, and even if it didn’t work out, he still had his mother to rescue, and then the other women who had vanished. The streets seemed empty with the few missing; the other women hiding away as not to get taken. Rufus was possessed with revenge now, but instead of relying on demons to help him, he relied on his own wit…
Part 6- Finale
The Duke felt happier than the day he left pure darkness. All of his candles were burning, his enemies suffering, and now his love was back in his grasp. She draped her arms over his shoulders as he sat in his classic pose, the other girls awaiting his orders in case their idol should need anything. Suddenly, the Duke looked up, towards the door to the basement.
“Open it, please. It seems today, a beautiful woman comes to me. Although I am in no need of another, if she wishes to grace me, then so be it. Let us put on a show for her.” His four candle-lighters stood, and each of his candles turned into black, non glowing flames. They each took one and surrounded the Duke, Irene heading to the corridor, through the door.
Outside, a woman with long, blonde hair knocked upon the door to the Duke’s mansion. Her black veil hid her face entirely. As she entered, Irene’s candle sprung back to life with a purple glow, illuminating her arm and nothing else. She retreated back to the Duke’s side, guiding the way for the newcomer. The other candles lit in succession, and the Duke stood to greet his guest.
“Now, shall we dance?”
The newcomer, her hands crossed, stepped forward and embraced the Duke. The Duke held her to him, seeing if he would allow her into his harem, when suddenly a sharp pain went through his chest. His eyes flew open, and he pushed the newcomer off of him, looking down onto his chest, seeing it begin to dye with blood. His expression of pure surprise and terror looked upward again, to see the new woman grab her own hair and pull it away. The blonde wig fell to the ground, the veil with it, revealing the Prince’s face. In his left hand, he bore a knife bathed in crimson up to the hilt.
“I am a man who has lost his love, and I have come here to kill the demon who has been taking the city’s maidens!” The Duke began to sweat in fear, and then he fell to the ground on his face. He writhed, trying to get back to his feet, but it was too late to prevent his sweat and blood from mixing. A pool of purple began to spread from under him, the corners of his mouth running with blood. His arts broken, the women began to come to their senses, and then flee the mansion. The Prince led the way, still in a dress, but running for the door. The last woman to reach the sunlit doorway was Irene. She glanced back on the Duke, his eyes tearing, looking pleadingly for the Irene to come and help him. As she turned back, he struggled to yell out,
“Wait! I haven’t yet told you that I love you!” However, Irene continued to run from the manor. The Duke sputtered, and then collapsed, his face down in floor, never to leave the manor again. The candles faded out one by one, and the door swung closed gently. The darkness gathered around the Duke’s body, as if to say goodbye to its old friend…

--


Author’s note- I figured it would be best to leave the lyrics and the video for last so that the story went unspoiled and without bias/foreshadowing from the song. However, I really foreshadowed too heavily, so it’s a bit counterproductive, but oh well. I changed a few of the names by my own desire and some by request, and I also left out a lot of the sexual overtones from the original song since they seemed extraneous. Here’s the link

And here’s the lyrics
[non singable translation by narumo]

"Now, shall we dance?"

Today again a beautiful woman comes to me
That smiling you will become my new wife
A forbidden deal with the devil, this power placed in my hands
All the women that look at me are falling enchanted

With the power to charm woman
The man, to the basement of the mansion where he lives alone
Brings one by one the women he likes
Building up his harem

The taste of libido that hid poison, the pleasure of the blade that cut
Blood and sweat mixed together, turn before long into drops of purple
Once the clothes come off, there’s no return to reality

[Serial disappearances of females in the area of Asmodin – Missing Persons List, Vol. 1
Lukana Octo: 20, tailor
Mikulia Greonio: 18, peasant
Lolan Eve: 32, dancer
Mirigan Adi: 28, fortune teller
Hakua Netsuma: 22, unemployed
Sonika Sonic: 22, aristocrat
Priema Soap: 30, domestic help
Liluen Tarner: 24, baker
Teto Cetera: 31, soldier]

My old portraits were burned; I abandoned my past self
I want to forget that face that everyone ridiculed and laughed at
I kiss the lovely girl as I embrace her
She was the childhood friend that made a fool out of me

From a certain day on, the woman from all over the country
One by one, they became lost without notice
Some were wives; some lost their daughters
And didn’t know what to do

The tone of libido dyed in darkness; an infinite passion without stop
Illusions, the understanding of everything; I am no longer a person
Doing depravities in defiance of God, this is the night of madness I wished for

[Serial disappearances of females in the area of Asmodin – Missing Persons List, Vol. 2

Gumina Glassred: 21, aristocrat
Meilis Belzenia: 22, Third princess of the Empire of Belzenia
Mikina Olripa: 19, widow
Ann Lee Sweets: 62, florist
Neruneru Nerune: 19, spy
Rindo Blume: -, nun
Yuki Kaina: -, unemployed
Josephine Francois:
Yufina Marlon: 26, queen of Marlon]

Today again a beautiful lady comes to me
Come into my embrace, let’s dance in this harem
After you approach me, I hold you close with a smile; in that instant
Suddenly there is a sharp pain and blood dyes my chest

A young man that searched for his lost love
He found out her whereabouts: the mansion where the devil dwelled
The young man disguised as a woman approach the devil
And stabbed him in the chest with a blade

Pierced by the blade that hid poison
I collapsed in that place
Blood and sweat mixed together, are turning before long into drops of purple
My arts broken, the women all came to their senses and fled the mansion
The last one that left the mansion looked at me for just a second
It was my childhood friend....Wait!

I haven't told yet that I love you
Source: Vocalochu: [Lyrics][Trans][Gackpo] Venomania k