M. P. Pomeroy

2
Writings
4
Followers
1
Following

The Demon King rose up from the crimson flames of hell, his talons swiped through the smoke viciously as he climbed the ragged steps to his throne.


I watched as he slid gracefully into his seat

upon the charred stone and narrowed his eyes in my direction.


Gulping nervously, I pushed myself to my feet, my eyes locked with his, I couldn’t seem to look away. A deadly dance of golden fire sealed...

5

It had been years and I still dreaded walking down these darkly lit, cobblestoned hallways. If the headmistress hadn’t died I wouldn’t even need to be here, wretched crone. I scowled as I made my way up the winding staircase, littered with portraits of the past headmasters.


I ignored all of their roaming eyes and burst through the large oak doors to find Yellavich, one of my old professors, hudd...

7