Mississippi Territory, Confederate States; 7 April 1861 AD (R4): 30 July 44,996 hTC; 563 ACC

It’s Sunday today, “The Lord’s Day,” Ma would say, but I never understood why that was. 

Furthermore, I didn’t understand why we were even doing the things we be doing. Ma and Pa said that Massa told them ‘bout this place called Heaven and that there’s someone referred to as God lives there. They said if we beg for forgiveness and praise his name, he might consider saving us from this life of enslavement. 

I’m the eldest daughter of a slave couple, but I’d been sold off to the Callaway Plantation a few months ago. I don’t necessarily miss the work, or even Massa, but it was where my family was, and I consider that my home. This new plantation wasn’t any better or worse than my previous one, except for the fact that this plantation was mostly occupied by women and young girls, both black humans and non-human women. They called it a Red-Light Plantation, and as the name suggests, we’re to be used and sold as sex slaves. I wasn’t fond of leaving my previous plantation, let alone being sold to an infamous red-light plantation; however, there were some upsides to the transfer. 

The plantation had an abundance of black slaves but had a large number of demon slaves as well. One girl, a demon girl with skin that resembled the night sky, around my age named Missy, quickly befriended me and told me about her people and culture. “My Ma and Pa ain’t from this world, they from a place called Jigoku,” she’d say. Her stories were fantastic, and she spoke of beings that were so incredibly powerful that they could do anything they wanted. She called them “Demon Lords,” and I was always taught that demons were evil and enemies of God. However, I’m of a different opinion since being on this plantation. 

Even though Missy was born a slave, roughly thirteen years ago, her parents were much older than that. She had one story that she told only once, detailing a war between the gods of this world and the Demon Lords of her parent’s home world. It was a gruesome tale, and the aftermath caused some residents of that other world to find refuge here, on Earth. She did, however, end the story with a positive outlook, a hopeful outlook rather, of a powerful mage general, would one day come and save us. Most of the older women would scoff at the idea of a mage saving them; but to me and the other younger women here, it gave us something to cling to. 

I hadn’t been at the plantation long before I was sent off to work, it was agonizing. Day after day, I was forced to please these old white devils; if you’d ask me, these people are more like demons than actual demons. As my luck would have it, I, along with Missy were considered favorites amongst the clientele. It was due to our “exotic features” and “mystical characteristics” all that to say that they had a sick fetish to fuck anything that didn’t resemble white women. Sundays were really the only day she and I could actually claim to be our own, however today was different. Today, Massa Callaway himself requested both mine and Missy’s services. All the men we’re sold to are usually of the same variety, either overweight or underweight, but always having the same greasy air about them. Massa Callaway on the other hand; he was different, the exact opposite to his clientele. He was an extremely polished man with hard angular features and flowing blonde hair. Unlike his clients, he was tall and had a muscular stature, but dressed and acted more effeminately, so much so that one would think he was attracted to the men; sadly, that ain’t the case. 

Massa Callaway took a fondness towards the new additions to the plantation, and after most of the clientele had their share of us, the product, he’d come in and claim us as his “seconds.” The thought disgusts me, and here I was, on a Sunday, MY SUNDAY, having to lay in bed with this disgusting man. I clenched my dressed as tears streaked my face; Missy, with her beautiful night skin, wrapped her arms around me and she took me into her embrace, “Effie, I can’t explain it, but in the next few days, our sovereign will come and free us.”

The words were unimaginably beautiful but also rocked me to my core. Our sovereign? Am I supposed to believe that some man from fairytales or the Bible I wasn’t even sure was written was gonna save us? But Missy, her words, as mad as they make me, I couldn’t help but smile and accept what she said. “Who is this person? What do they look like?” I asked, we had some time before we were meant to meet with Massa Callaway. 

“Pa told me that there was an emperor named Chronos that had twenty-four mage generals; there was one general that had rainbow silver hair, brilliant golden eyes and ebony red skin, but I don’t know his name,” Missy said with a hopeful smile. In that moment, I had no choice but to trust her, it was, again, unbelievable. There were stories and tales amongst us slaves that most of us were familiar with. One story was of a man, with rainbow silver hair that had the ability to control sand; no one knew his name, at least no human knew his name. We only knew him as “Sand Master,” and this mage general that Missy was talking about, coincidentally shared traits with the Sand Master. 

BANG, BANG, there was a knock at the door, “You exotic Jezebels better be ready in there! Best not keep Lord Callaway waiting,” one of Massa Callaway’s guards shouted outside the room. Missy and I hugged each other, and she placed her forehead against mine, “We ain’t gon’ struggle no more, ya’ hear me? I might be young, but I’m a Nightskin demon, an ancient race, and there’s somethings that my kind just know; we gon’ be all right, he’ll save us.” 

After Missy and I finished getting ready, the guard escorted us to Massa Callaway’s home. It was an eyesore of a mansion, ordained with Roman styled columns and French styled trimming. The paint job of the house was an abysmal shade of faded green that he called “mint,” and everything was accented with gold. The only thing that stood out from the unsightly home was the lit red lantern that hung outside the front door, which indicated that the plantation was open for business. 

Massa Callaway stood on the porch wearing a flowing white blouse tucked into a pair of brown trousers. His hair rested upon his shoulders and his sharp features made him look more like a hungry tiger than a man. He watched us, with a glass of wine in his hand, as we made our way to the mansion, “Effie, Missy, you two look splendid,” he slurred. “You two especially are very popular amongst all my clients and I just had to see what all the fuss was about.” The words were meant to be something of a compliment, but I felt more dirty than pretty. 

“We shan’t disappoint,” Missy answered politely. She had a glimmer in her eyes that suggested that she might have had a plan, one that she was sure would work. 

•••

Massa Callaway grabbed Missy by the arm and threw her aggressively on the bed, right before he honed onto me. He had a sickening look of vile pleasure, as his pores wreaked of alcohol and sweat; he leaned close, pressing his drunken lips against mine. It was disgusting, he was disgusting, and to make it worse, he was making me feel disgusting. 

I don’t know how much of this I can handle; I thought. He kept pressing his lips against my face, it had gotten to the point where I couldn’t breathe; instinctively, I pushed him away, but that proved to be the wrong move. The horrendous look of pleasure, that just moments prior was painted across the drunken man’s face twisted into one with unfathomable rage. 

There was a moment of intense silence, and before I knew it, I was looking downwards to my left, I heard a piercing ringing in my ear and my right cheek flared in pain. He just slapped me; I thought as I whipped my head to face the drunk pervert. I had an intense feeling of anger and fear building within, so much so that tears began to seep down my face. 

The hatred that he wore was instantly wiped away once he saw my face; he erupted into a hysterical laugh. “Oh, did that upset you? Did I hurt your feelings,” he mocked with a snide tone. “Not like anyone cares about you, you’re mine. Ya ’hear? I own you, and I can do as I please with you. You best not ever forget that, understand?”

I remained silent, and as a response, he struck my face again, this time with more force, yet still, I kept quiet. I’m not sure why, but I knew that whatever I said, Massa Callaway would use it against me. This only angered him more though, but something happened. As he was repeatedly beating my face, he turned to look at Missy’s horrific expression, and a sweaty, malicious, and downright disgusting grin crept across his face. 

“Oh, I know what will make you talk,” he said, directed at me, but looking at Missy. “You two are best friends, right? Let me just go ahead and say, the longer you stay quiet, the more heinous my actions will be towards your little friend.”

Was he really stooping that low, solely to get me to react to him? The thought of him harming my dearest friend though, the one person in this nightmare that treated me like a regular human, despite not being human herself. Miss Missy was the most important person I’d met, and he wished to do unspeakable things to her the longer I refused to speak. I wasn’t sure exactly what happened next, but whatever it was it happened all so fast. I do, however, recall having a glimpse at what happened before I fainted.

I remember Missy’s face, as Massa Callaway walked closer to her, the expression of horror and distress she once wore, slowly morphed into a devious smile; almost as if she were a predator that laid bait out for its prey, and that prey was now about to take it. The star-like pattern on her ethereal body began to shimmer and dance and her large moon-like eyes glowed with intensity. Massa Callaway didn’t even acknowledge the shift in her expression, he was still focused on committing his deviant behavior; that was until the moment right before he stepped directly in front of her. Missy snickered and placed her right hand gently above her lips before saying, “All according to your plan, Young Master.”

“Young Master? That’s a new one,” Massa Callaway retorted, “but I’ll play along—. “

The room grew eerily silent, and the color that once filled the bedroom of devilish acts, all faded away. I didn’t know how to describe it, the room felt lifeless, like time was frozen in place, well almost. As I was drifting in and out of consciousness, I remembered seeing someone walk into the room. I couldn’t quite make out his face, but the one thing I did remember was his hair; it was loc’d up, about shoulder length, but it was the color. His hair color was kinda silvery, but it was tinted with four distinct colors, purple roots, followed by an hombre of gold and blue, and his tips were red. 

He’s real, that was my last thought before I passed out. The Sand Master, the mage with the rainbow silver hair, from Missy’s story is real, and he was here to save us.

Just as you planned, Young Master; ever since he was a little boy, The Young Master has always found ways to excite me and my sisters. I looked at him, and I still somewhat do, as a little brother, but now, I can’t help but reminisce on those days. He’s grown into such a phenomenal mage, one I’m sure his mother and father would be proud of. 

The room grew still, minus myself, my dearest friend, and the disgusting excuse of a man in front of me. “What’s happening? What’re you doing? Is the dampener on? What did you do!” Callaway clambered. 

The door crept open, and ambient mana spewed in, almost like the flood gates were just opened. Callaway, still panicking, rushed to try to close the door, but the pig’s efforts were futile as he heard footsteps closing in. The pace of the steps continued, and they sounded calculated, this further panicked Callaway as he continued to try to close the door. 

To the average human, they wouldn’t exactly know what’s happening, but there’s a particular flavor of human that aren’t compatible with mana, and when in the presence of, let’s say, a mage with equivalent power to that of a Demon Lord, the effects can be irreversible. 

Step. Step. 

They continued, and the pig continued to squeal like the swine he is, that was until The Young Master stood in the doorway. 

“Welcome, Young Master, your first step in your plot to dismantle the Red-Light Plantation industry has been a success,” I stood and curtsied. 

“Onechan, I told you already, call me by my name, Myrlin. Once we make it back to hTraé, and I get acknowledged, then you can call me whatever you want,” he said with somewhat of an annoyed expression on his face. “Besides Jade, why’re you still in that form?”

I nodded my head and closed my eyes as I took a deep breath in, “Form, Release!” In that moment, my appearance shifted from that of a young Night-Skinned demon girl, to my actual form. My body grew and the clothes I was wearing shifted into my maid’s uniform. “I nearly forgotten how it feels to be me,” I boasted. 

“Wah-who are you?” Callaway stammered. 

I turned to face him in disgust, “if you must know, my name is Jade Les Fleurs Précieueses, Head maid in service to the Imperial Wyllt Family.”

Callaway was frozen in fear, but for some reason looked deep within to find the audacity to confront The Young Master. “You—, you there, Nigger-boy! State yourself—… “

Big mistake. The Young Master was already annoyed, but once he heard that slur, not even Callaway’s evil and jealous god could save him. The Young Master ignored him, and his expression simultaneously soured and hardened as he crouched down to look the foul swine in the eye and gently, yet menacingly placed his hand on his left shoulder and whispered, “Aging Touch.”

Callaway’s entire left arm began to rapidly age until it was nothing but skin and bones, literally, there were no muscles present in his left arm. Callaway howled a gut-wrenching scream as he tried to grab his arm, but The Young Master slapped his hand away with an indifferent expression on his face. 

“You see, I was born with the peculiar ability to control the flow of time, to an extent. And what I did, just now, is I isolated your left arm, and rapidly aged it to the point where your muscles began eating themselves,” The Young Master began to explain. “But Myrlin, how is there ONLY skin and bones left? That’s the tricky part, you see, there’s a brief, and I mean extremely brief window in time in which there’s only skin and bones left. I have to freeze the isolated area to prevent further deterioration.”

The Young Master always gets like this when he’s facing his opponents. He said that explaining your abilities to your opponent can help increase the effectiveness of it. I don’t know how the science works, but every time he does this, all his spells get amplified.