Chapter Text
Zam didn’t know how he ended up here. One second, he and Pangi had been safely watching the streets from the shadows, resting. It had been a long couple of weeks. No one had tied the fall of the monarchy back to Zam and Pangi, but they were still careful.
They were making their way to the lands of Essempee. Pangi thought it would be safe. Zam had his doubts, and Pangi knew, but he was willing to trust him—always willing to trust Pangi.
But they were at the edge of the small market town. People were moving with purpose; no one was loitering. It seemed the people here did not like to linger. Zam had no idea how it happened.
He was in the centre of the market, wrapped up in the people, the moving, the loud yells, and their gazes. Oh, how they glared at Zam. He knew why. He didn’t look like them after all—yellow skin and smile scars. It was strange. He felt strange. Out of place. Adrift. Where was Pangi?
There was a ruckus going on, and he... he was at the heart of it, voices yelling aggressively. Zam was backed up by pointing fingers and enraged faces. He was backed up until he hit something soft, and he whirled to see a...
Not a human staring down at him, eyes wide like his own but demeanour more deadly. He had dark skin and locks and wild eyes like lava pools. He looked down at Zam with fear, with confusion, with rage.
The townspeople were closing in on them, yelling about thievery. Zam tuned in to listen, to try and resolve it.
“I knew your kind in town would never be good—” one was crowing loudly over another who complained,
“Our town was safe before that mage decided to rip the capital to shreds!”
Zam didn’t care.
The guy behind him looked young. He looked angry, and Zam knew those two things led to situations that got them hunted down.
They were called names, yelled at, backed into a corner, and Zam didn’t know this kid—this demon, judging by the devil horns and the way his arm, covered in cracks that did not look healthy, glowed lava-red like molten rocks.
A group of men was approaching—townies, big burly lumps, angry faces, sour eyes, dangerous. Zam knew those expressions, the way their gait swayed, the way they glowered and wrinkled their noses at the castle. They were nobles’ sons, gardeners, advisers, and war captains—never scholars. Dangerous but slow, ready to jump to the defence of the village, unwilling to examine what they were fighting.
He looked at the small demon—maybe 17, almost of age. Almost, but not quite.
Zam looked at the men. They would go down, but there were too many people in this town. If they got caught killing, it was game over. They obviously disliked their kind in these parts, and though that was stupid and shallow, Zam also knew he needed to survive.
Zam acted at the same time as the demon. As he lunged, Zam grabbed. He caught his wrist in his hand and felt the searing pain of fire under his fingers, but Zam didn’t let go. He was used to holding searing heat—the young prince was a bastard, after all.
The demon looked at him, wide-eyed, and the fight drained from him somewhat. Zam hissed a worried warning.
“If you kill them, they will not stop hunting you,” he warned, and the crease between his eyes grew deeper, considering.
Zam pushed himself between the men and this demon and tried to smile his most winning smile. It was strange—now his face wasn’t permanently held in a grin, he still wanted to smile at anyone who came too close.
They glowered at him, though, knuckles cracking, and Zam was scared. He was so scared, but he also knew he was never really alone.
As if on cue, an explosion rained through the street, and the townspeople scattered. Zam and the demon both startled, as well as all the burly men, but where the men froze, trying to figure out what had happened, the two inhumans did not.
A strong arm locked around Zam, and he was lifted off the pavement. In a second, he started and tried to fight the little demon off, but in the next, they were moving too fast, and he knew it was for the best. Deftly, he wove through the crowd, more practised than should be worn into such a young body.
Zam spotted Pangi, worried eyes peeking over a barrel, the Pangolin’s smallest form taken shape. Zam, shooting his one loose arm free, reached out and grabbed him, yanking him along for the ride.
“Did you see?” he asked excitedly, not at all concerned that some random stranger was kidnapping them. Zam grinned back.
“Yeah!” he said, because really, Pangi was the only one ballsy enough to blow a barrel up and get away without being spotted.
“You two—” the guy carrying them glanced down, frowned, but didn’t stop moving. He just asked, “Alright?”
Zam nodded, and Pangi chirped in that strange, content way he did when he was highly stressed but happy.
They barrelled out of the highly populated town square onto the cobbled streets, down the road, and out of the strange village. It was drab and swampy on the outskirts, but it was less populated.
They dashed until they hit some strange abandoned barn. Zam glanced around, confused about what purpose it served. Maybe the swamp was once farmland, but that’s not how anything worked. In any case, the demon shapeshifter and Pangolin ended up sprawled out across the stone floor in a heap.
Zam was a little disoriented, and he would blame that for the sound he made when he looked up and met eyes with what could only be described as a lion—just bigger, with sharper teeth and a head full of well-braided hair. He was terrifying. Zam, on instinct, reached out to catch Pangi, who was still close to him, and pulled him closer, keeping their bodies locked as one. Safer not to lose one another.
But then, as they sat frozen on the stone, the original demon—the one from the crowd who had scooped the pair up and whisked them out of the market at inhuman speeds—darted up to throw himself bodily at the large lion demon.
Were they related? Zam wasn’t sure how demon genetics worked, but the lion didn’t break eye contact as he caught the slightly smaller one and hugged him back.
They all stayed quiet for a few long, drawn-out seconds.
“Who are you?” the lion asked, and Zam, terrified and unable to answer, did not squeak.
Pangi, picking up the slack, sat up and stared down the terrifying man with what an outsider might think was a defiant expression but Zam knew was borderline terrified. Neither of them was good at being the centre of attention. They didn’t get caught—it was something they refused to let happen because they weren’t strong enough to face off like this, staring down a lion.
“My name is Pangi,” he said, defiance and fear hardening his voice. Zam cautiously sat up, careful not to move suddenly or too much.
“I’m Zam,” he said with a quiver.
The lion evaluated them both with a chuff, then, for the first time, glanced to his companion.
“What happened?” he asked, and the younger bit his lip, sharp teeth digging into the flesh with some vengeance. Zam suppressed a wince.
"I got into trouble," he admitted, head ducked. The lion cocked his head but stayed quiet, obviously letting him talk more. "I don’t know what I did wrong. They were going to attack us," he gestured at Zam, and the lion once again inspected him with a new expression—one Zam didn’t know if he liked.
"He stopped me from killing them," the demon explained, and the lion only grew more contemplative of Zam, eyes fixed on his orange pools of lava, searing a hole in his face. "Said something about..." He gestured vaguely.
Zam wanted to defend himself, opening his mouth to explain that if he killed someone who didn’t look human, he would never be left alone. But the lion cut him off.
"Thank you."
He spoke with a finality, a levelled trust Zam wasn’t sure how to deal with—a rumble in his chest and fire in his eye.
Zam closed his mouth, confronted and confused, glancing at Pangi, who was just as in the dark.
"Would you like to stay with us tonight?" the lion asked.
And really, Zam wouldn’t. He didn’t know them nor where they came from. He and Pangi looked like easy prey on the best of days, and if they could topple a kingdom, what the hell had these two running?
But it was dark, and things lurked in the night that Zam had only caught glimpses of. He and Pangi were weak and tired, and Zam didn’t think they’d be able to traverse the bogland in the dark.
He caught Pangi’s eye, and they had a serious conversation without exchanging a word. Pangi was also scared. Pangi thought they should stay as well. So Zam turned back to the demon pair, who both blinked at him, eyes curious.
"If we’re not intruding," he acquiesced, because if he knew what was best for him, it was not to put demons under undue pressure, especially social pressure.
The lion simply inclined his head, and the younger smiled, all teeth.
"I’m Flame," he introduced himself, adding as an afterthought, "FlameFrags to be proper."
Zam blinked at him because demons did not give out their full names. Something was thoroughly fucked with this one.
But the lion just sighed. "I am Mane, Manepare, and he is young, my brother."
Zam just nodded, because what was he supposed to do?
Pangi trilled and stood, growing in size. He took on his most humanoid form, one he and Zam had taken months to perfect. He still had scales running along his arms and down the centre of his face as well as a tail, but otherwise, he was humanoid. He was shorter than Zam by only an inch and smiled awkwardly.
Both demons stared for a few seconds.
"Okay," Flame said, and Pangi smiled. Zam loved him so much; he was great.
They were then led to a ladder at the back of the abandoned barn. A boarded-up window was upstairs, as well as some old hay and barrels. In the corner, hidden behind some barrels, Zam could spy Mane and Flame's sleeping spot.
He and Pangi chose the opposite corner to them and settled down. As they had been travelling, they had accumulated some materials but had not been able to get their hands on sleeping equipment. It was fine, as they had each other and an uncanny skill for fitting in small crevices.
They did have a sack of food, and Pangi was rummaging around in it as they set up a good sleeping spot.
o0O0o
Manepare wasn’t sure what Zam or Pangi were—the small squishy creatures that had apparently saved him and Flame from a manhunt across the continent—but he could admit, in the sanctuary of his own mind, they were adorable.
Or well, "adorable" wasn’t exactly right. Zam had yellow skin covered in starburst scars, a strange round head that bore the scars of stitches. Pangi could maybe be a dragon cub without wings, due to the magic about him, but Mane wasn’t sure still. He also bore the marks of tampered spells. They were world-worn and clung to one another, but they were so clingy.
Mane liked soft things. It was strange for a demon but not unheard of. Sonder, a demon pack—whatever they were called—always sought out soft spaces to rest. Mane was gentle when he did Flame's hair up; he liked to look after Flame.
They exchanged a look as the two crept into the corner. Maybe Flame also felt the same. His eyes sparkled as he subtly glanced at Pangi, fixated on paws that were human legs. They were another indicator that Pangi wasn’t a dragon but also wasn’t a lizard. He was so strange.
Flame didn’t seem to care, as he was just enthralled with the softness of them both—a childish curiosity Mane hadn’t seen from him before. It was cute. Mane was constantly keeping an eye on the two of them, as he did with Flame. Pangi was rummaging around in a bag, and his shoulders were slightly tense. He obviously noticed both their gazes, but Mane tried to keep his soft, heavy, but safe.
Pangi then dragged whatever was in the bag out, and it turned out to be a strange assortment of food, specifically dried meats and some fruits—things he had taken along the way. He looked up at Mane and Flame cautiously before wordlessly sharing out a meal for everyone. His supplies were depleted, but Zam didn’t appear upset.
He and Pangi moved off with their share back to their corner, but this time they were watching the two demons as intently as they watched the odd duo.
Mane tried to give his share of the meat to Flame, who, under the clothes they had obtained by raiding some poor sod’s clotheslines, was still recovering from his time in the pits. But Flame wouldn’t let him, pushing the meat back without even acknowledging him, and Mane got it, but he still huffed about it.
They all ate in silence, Mane careful to only eat what he saw Zam and Pangi eat, and quickly quelled his worries as they didn’t avoid anything. The berries were either too sweet or too sharp, but they were food, and he hadn’t honestly eaten anything substantial in days. Flame, who had fared a little better, was also hungry and ate without a care, obviously trusting the two strangers already.
After eating, they settled down to sleep. Zam and Pangi dashed off to their corner, and Flame and Mane were careful not to encroach into their space. All was quiet. All was safe. Come morning, they would go their separate ways.
o0O0o
Zam woke with a practiced start, an old trick from years of light sleeping, ready for footsteps on stone to ruin his day, to rip him from relative safety as a caged bird and thrust him out into the light.
Now, he was not in that gilded cage but in the sure dangers of the open world. It was both the most free and the most trapped he had ever felt, but he had Pangi, and life was worth living when Pangi was plotting their path.
But Zam was awake before the sun had risen, and he knew someone was in the barn that had not been there when they went to sleep. Cautiously, on silent feet, he crept up to the loft edge. It was a strange overhang with a shit wall to keep the wind out—wood that he could creep an eye through and see down into the space below.
There was a man, a farmer or so he hoped that thing once was a farmer. Its skin was grey and rotted, and it walked with a lopping gait. Whatever it was, it was dangerous. No sound could be heard from the outside; even morning birds were silent. Zam felt his heart jackhammer in his chest, his fear clogging his throat.
He knew under no uncertain terms that if they didn’t move now, they would be caught, and that thing was not going to be defeated by demonic magic. It looked voidlike in nature, nothing they could do but hold it off.
At least it wasn’t a watcher.
He darted silently to Pangi, and with only a few flickers of his hand, Pangi was awake and ready. But he covered his mouth before he could ask any questions. Zam rapidly mimicked a threat from the outside and gestured wildly, trying to convey that there was nothing they could do to defeat it.
Pangi watched his flailing explanation with blank eyes and then nodded singularly, pointing at the small heaped forms of Mane and Flame—the two demons who had been so strangely nice.
He stared at them, unsure how to wake them without alerting the thing, as he was still unsure how they were going to get out. Then Pangi pointed at the boarded-up window.
It was a chance, possibly their only chance, and with a silent sigh, Zam nodded.
He crept up to Flame, the less dangerous of the two, or so he hoped. But as he reached a cautious hand out, he was yanked out of position, spun, and pinned in a silent manoeuvre. Thankfully, the only sound that came was the brush of hay as it fell from Flame’s skin—still too loud.
Zam stared up at him with wide, scared eyes, but Flame glared down with deadly precision. He opened his mouth, obviously to fling accusations or threats, but Pangi saved Zam as always. Pangi was always the best thing in his life, after all.
He waved his little hands back to his small, non-threatening, quiet form. He shook his head and stomped his feet. Flame stared at him, frowned, then Pangi did the same song and dance as Zam about the threat outside and the need to stay quiet. Flame’s frown deepened, and he cautiously poked Mane, who sat up, and with only a jerk of his head, was ready to look.
As he did, he froze, just as Zam had.
His eyes said it all: *We need to go*, he mouthed, and thankfully, Flame trusted him with an apologetic smile. He rolled off Zam, who stayed down for a few seconds longer, just to be safe. Then he stood.
Flame looked to Mane for the solution, and he looked at Zam with a cocked head. He must know Pangi and Zam had a plan already. It was written in their eyes—it was the way they held themselves, close together but loose at the shoulders, non-threatening but ready to leave.
He cocked a brow, and Zam helpfully pointed at the window.
Both looked back at Zam and Pangi and nodded.
It was go time.
They peered between the slats; it was a good 7-foot drop. Pangi could take it, but Zam wasn’t sure he would be able to catch the panels on the way down. But how quick...
He wasn’t given time to think though, as both Flame and Mane took either side of the boards and, hooking claws and a knife under the rusted nails, wrenched them off the wall. The weak dawn light filtered in, and a clattering sound shook the world, it felt like, and the thing that lurked inside screamed. Both demons paid it no mind, each grabbing either Zam or Pangi and launching themselves out the window, down the drop, tucking and rolling to absorb the hit.
Zam was made dizzy as he was carried across marshland at breakneck speeds. Mane was holding him so that he wasn’t just bouncing around, but he was also loose enough to be able to turn his head and catch a look at Flame, who was less... human than he had been at first. Nothing geriatric, just the way his body bent—the inhuman stretch of his limbs, the arc of his back, pressed to his chest, facing his neck was Pangi, who was shocked, scared, and oddly excited-looking.
Zam felt the same cocktail of emotions, and it was exhilarating.
They ended up in a bit of a heap about a quarter of a mile out from the strange barn prowled by a monster of the void. Mane and Flame ran until both were flagging, and then they ran a little more until they left the marsh.
Pangi and Zam were fluttering around the two now, faces drawn in concern, as the demons just lay heaving breaths. Pangi pulled a canteen of water and offered it. Flame drank quickly, passing it off to Mane, who finished it off. Pangi then started to build a fire. It was clear they weren’t leaving for a while, and Zam went to refill their water.
An hour after sunrise, the two were better and back on their feet. Mane was sitting, but Flame was passing around, having boiled fresh water. All of them had eaten a breakfast of berries and the rest of the beef jerky Pangi had begged from a butcher who didn’t know he was magic and just assumed he was a fucked-up lizard.
Mane eventually asked, watching Flame jump at a tree with a curiosity Zam would expect to see on a much younger child, "Would you—" he cut himself off. Pangi inspected him with a critical eye. "I think it would be better if we travelled together," he said, his voice steely. Zam cocked his head.
"Where are you guys going?" Pangi asked him, because it was best to know now.
Mane frowned. "Not sure, we were just trying to put some space between us and where we come from."
Pangi nodded slowly, not pressing for details, not yet, not ever, maybe.
"We're going to the lands of Essempee," he said it with the same confidence Zam always thought was so strange— the steel-strong resolve, not a hint of irony to be heard. Zam didn’t even know if he believed the stories of the landlocked republic, led by a council populated by thieves, murderers, and magic.
It didn’t sound like paradise, but nothing ever did, yet it sure as hell sounded like freedom to Zam.
Mane cocked his head. "Tell me about it?" Flame came as well to listen, obviously paying enough attention to know something was going down.
They decided to travel together, to follow Pangi's crackpot theory to see for themselves. The wilderness was vast and wild ahead of them. None of them were ready, but there was no time to prepare.