Chapter Twenty Eight #2
Instantly my daggers were in hand, my full attention fixed on the entrance of the stables. Had those bastards seen me enter the Tolokok keep for the night?
Adrenaline melted to confusion when a soft feminine voice called out a quiet, "Hello?"
I stood just as the girl from the caravan came into view, holding something clutched to her chest. When her gaze found my daggers, she lit up, quick steps leading her further inside.
"You really know how to wield those?" She asked, slowing until she was a few feet away, her wariness returning.
Sheathing the blades, my shoulder lifted. "I do."
"Did those soldiers teach you?"
I cleared my throat. “Some of them. What’s your name?”
The girl hesitated before she answered, her toe digging into the sand. “Yasmine. I told my Pa about how you approached the caravan after our show. He scolded me for being rude and said I should apologize, especially after you intervened on our behalf with those men."
"Your Pa sounds like a good man."
Yasmine eyed me for a moment, before she thrust the rectangular parcel wrapped in brown paper towards me.
“To show our gratitude for your help. You were asking of the tale we told and that book contains all the ones we tell on our journeys.
My father writes them himself, it's not the original, but a copy he made in case his journal was ever destroyed or misplaced. "
Running a hand over the rough brown paper the journal was wrapped in, the coarse bit of string that was tied into a bow around it, I softly spoke. “Thank you, this will be very helpful."
"I have to head back now or else he'll be worried, but," Yasmine hesitated once more, "if we meet again, will you teach me how to use those?"
I followed her line of sight to the blade strapped to my thigh, a smile tilting the corners of my lips. "If we meet again," I promised with a nod, before motioning for her to go. “Hurry back, don't make your Pa worry."
After Yasmine departed I settled back into my bed of hay, tearing apart the brown paper to see a leather bound journal, thick with knowledge.
Excitement coursed through me as I began to carefully flip through the pages, reading brief passages—tales of the Celestial War, simple, eerie stories meant to be told around campfires.
I didn't stop searching until I settled upon one sentence.
The Demon Princes of the Nine Hells.
I angled the book so the faint moonlight lit more of the page.
It is said that light cannot exist without the dark. That the Goddess Soli cannot exist without her counterpart, Lua. That the sun cannot rise without the fall of the moon.
They claim that is why the Sun Goddess’s blade pierced the heart of Calzar rather than her sister Goddess for her betrayal.
For what is the sun without the moon? What is flame without a darkness to cast away?
The Goddesses power resides in each other, without the other their own power would falter and be cast into nothing, open to vulnerability.
The Nine Hells is similar in this way, there is an order to each of their levels, a ruler of each. The Demon Princes of the Nine Hells, one for each Goddess forsaken realm.
With the death of their brother Calzar, a realm lost its ruler, bringing chaos to their order, to their stability. Would it not be thought that vengeance would war within them for this?
The blood of a Demon Prince was the catalyst.
For what are Nine Hells, with only eight Princes to rule?
I flipped further through the book, mind whirling as I settled upon a new story. These were not merely tales, but musings of Yasmine's father as well.
Long ago, in a world long since forgotten to time and age, there lived nine Godlings, boys of immense strength and power. They were revered by their people, temples were erected in their honor, sacrifices made for their favor, clans formed based on which Godling they elected their benefactor.
The Godlings ruled with a just, but strict hand, for they loved their people.
Yet, as with all beings, power can be an intoxicating, fickle thing.
Clans began to war as the Godlings scrambled for more than what their brothers had. Their people became fodder for their own desires as they fought one another at the Godlings' will.
As the rivers ran red and the once rolling fields of wildflowers became mass graves, the very clans that once warred for their Gods began to turn on them. One by one, clan by clan, they began to reject the Godlings.
Temples burned and ash rained from the sky, the people began to hate those they once revered.
For even a God can fall from grace.
The skies cried for nine days and nine nights, for each fallen Godling.
Forever marked in history as the Great Weeping of the Skies.
Raining down upon the lands they once ruled over, flooding the fields of harvest and washing away the sins they cast upon their people.
And as the skies mourned, the Godlings fell from the heavens they ruled from, great blazing stars that crashed into the very earth and sunk deep below the ravaged, flooded land.
Down and down and down.
First fell Nox, to a realm of utter darkness. Later known as the realm of limbo, for the souls neither good nor bad, but those who stood idly by while their brethren and sistren committed their sins. For Nox too stood by while his Godling brothers wreaked havoc upon the world.
Second came Calzar, to a barren wasteland, ravaged by storms that never ceased tormenting those who succumbed to their most carnal desires. Calzar used lust against his enemies, enticing and tricking away the people of his fellow Godlings.
Third to fall was Hamli, his sin being Pride. Forever would he and those in his realm be plagued by bone-chilling rain, forced to run from the beasts who chase them, with no true escape.
Fourth to be disgraced was Behoram for his Greed. Eternally tormented by lesser demons for the hoarding of precious, stolen treasures.
Fifth came Grengor, falling to a realm of drowning lakes and rivers to temper the Wrath that burned in the souls of the angry and spiteful.
Sixth fell Lashen for Heresy was his vice. To deny the right of the other Godlings who ruled over their land and people, he would be subjected to a world of flame and despair.
Seventh was Javir for the Violence he lashed upon his brethren and their followers. A scorching desert awaited him, never able to find another soul. For those who enter the Seventh Realm of Hell will never find another to harm.
Eighth to fall was Yeov, for Fraud. His realm pits of darkness and despair to be plunged into for eternity.
And last to fall, the ninth Godling, was Dedrio. For his Treachery, he and those who entered his realm would be subjected to a frozen, dark wasteland, forever cold and in search of the warmth they would never again find.
When they had all fallen and the skies cleared, two new Godlings were born, twin Goddesses. Set to bring harmony and peace to the desolate land. Light and dark, sun and shadow, earth and sea.
A new era was born.
And the Demon Princes of the Nine Hells were created.
Closing the book, my mind was reeling after finishing the tale. It was never taught that the Demon Princes may have once been Gods themselves.
For even a God can fall from grace.
I would need to tell the others tomorrow because if this tale was true, or even if it contained a kernel of truth, it would be huge.