Khalid Abdul-Mumin

"We fight to the end,” said the man. “To the death.”
The demon beside him nodded, wizened face sad.
Commands were sent out and the demonic host, bound in servitude to the demonologists, had no choice but to obey.
That night the Empire fell, and the world sank into a thousand years of darkness."

"Something was wrong with the old man; he wasn’t quite the right shape. His skull, a little too oblong, his limbs a little too long. He looked stretched. Eyes, too large, oddly oval, glowed violet as he studied me. He blinked wrong, liquid, one eye at a time."
"The demon, in robes of ink, looked like a gaunt old man, bald, bent and near skeletal. “If we break that circle, it might crack the earth to its core. Lava. Ash in the sky for years.”

"Creatures called from a hundred different realities stood waiting. Massive beasts, some dwarfing even the Deredi giants, held formation beside winged nightmares from some distant hell. Many, hailing from closer realities looked human, differing only in some small detail. Purple skin, horns, claws, too many or two few fingers. With this army, he had bound the world under a single rule: His. And now, with this army, he would lose the world."

"You. Will. Obey!
Fear. Terror.
The water elemental cowered. It remembered me. It remembered how I brought it here, how I bent it to my will.
“Fill the bowl,” I commanded. “If I ask for water, you give it.”
I opened my eyes to find the bowl filled with cool, clear water. I drank until I puked.
Then I drank more.
“Better?” asked Nhil.
“Yes,” I answered, voice still raw.
“Good,” he said. “Because we have another problem.”
I lay back, belly distended. “What’s that?”
“You’re still going to starve to death before long.”
“Oh.” I released a long belch. “Fuck.”