Chapter 6 #2
The world resumed its pandemonium while Saer stepped to the hut and lifted one of the heavier beams in his bare hands, corded forearms flexing.
The fire absorbed into his skin as though it thirsted for the blaze.
The burning piece of lumber fell behind him as he entered what remained of the immolated structure.
Embers flew.
Smoke suffocated.
Amidst all of it, the fine, white effervescence he’d sought since setting foot back on the surface floated.
This time, the spirit—Ruki’s spirit—did not dissipate.
It came to him, bringing a confusing cacophony of emotions. Relief, emptiness, satisfaction, and sickness. Ruki was dead, but his spirit was…
Mine.
Saer clutched the energy to himself, the contact immediate and solid.
What Lucifer needed. It must be. A gift from Ruki.
His given Daemoenic form erupted from his human guise, fueled by the energy of the flames that bathed him. Wings stretching, Saer shut his eyes and let his inner Hellsfire consume him.
He left behind nothing but ash, blood, and despair.
In the depths of Lucifer’s throne room, Ruki’s soul materialized as a thin and glowing vapor, a reflection of the boy and the body it inhabited on the surface.
The likeness was stunning.
Not more than a handful of strides away, Lucifer bent over Its latest creation. The feathered wings hung limp and dull, Its motions tremulous.
Saer knelt in his usual, submissive posture, one clawed hand turned up, the other arm curled around Ruki’s essence. He lowered his gaze as he knew Lucifer preferred. “Master—”
“Silence.” The command sliced through the chambers, echoing off Hell’s stony walls. “Be still.”
His heart rate spiked to the orders, but he held his tongue and dared to spare glances about the throne room, seeking Neyu.
An expansive and oversized dais had been finished in his absence, large enough for all Daemoenica to kneel alongside Lucifer, if so commanded.
The dais boasted dozens of steps. At its apex, Lucifer’s elegant and expansive throne carried savage opulence.
The stone had been flooded with Hellsfire until it glimmered, ebony reflecting the fiery ribbons of Hell.
On either side—the legs, along the arms, and crawling up the mammoth back of the seat—replicated pairs of horns decorated various regions.
Midway up the leg of the throne, he recognized Runeak’s forward-facing horns, their tips honed to sharp points.
Further up, two pairs of ram’s horns adorned the armrests.
Up and up, each of the Daemoenica represented, until the likeness of Saer’s horns sat at the very top, thick and curving down, then out.
The throne his maker had commanded Neyu to construct was nearly completed, and she must have gone to fetch more materials.
If he could catch just a glimpse...
But the only Daemoenic in the chamber was Lucifer’s latest creation. Shouldn’t there be more beyond Neyu, the Twins, and Runeak? He’d been gone for years. Saer’s gaze glided once more to Lucifer, then veered to where the original line of dormant Daemoenic forms had perched in wait.
When he and Neyu were brought to life, five forms remained.
After the Twins, there were three.
Then Runeak, which left two.
Now, Lucifer worked on one of those two remaining. He’d not missed any new awakenings. The realization startled him. Had his maker’s weakness delayed It so long?
The thoughts dizzied him as Saer took in the form of his new kin while Lucifer laid the final touches.
Not First or last, largest or smallest, strongest or weakest—remarkable only in how unremarkable he’d been crafted.
Lucifer had touched the Sixth’s flesh with a modest amount of Hellsfire, leaving him a drab, beige hue.
Bone-colored hooves, claws, and talons jutted from his skin.
Horns of the same ilk protruded from his forehead with faint, pointed curves at their ends, no longer than a hand span.
At last, when impatience threatened to eat Saer alive, Lucifer kissed Envy’s eyelids. They fluttered open and olive-green irises gazed upon the fallen angel, a glimmer of uncertainty in them.
“Errshekenyarris. My Errsheken. Welcome.”
When Errshek bowed his head in acknowledgment, the movement came stilted and awkward. The Sixth swallowed and darted his eyes around—as though self-conscious from his first breath—then froze when Saer’s gaze ensnared his. The edges of Errshek’s eyes flinched, and he tore his attention away.
The minimal exchange both intrigued and annoyed Pride, who held no concept of insecurity.
Little brother.
None assented to Lucifer’s vow of servitude quicker, or with a more trembling voice than Errshek.
The fallen angel’s mouth curved, taking a sort of wicked delight in his trembling form. “Errsheken, you will aid your kin where they need you. They each have a task assigned. Fill in the gaps where required. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Master,” Errshek said. “I understand.”
Saer narrowed his eyes, trying to discern the expression on his newest brother’s face. Disappointed that he wasn’t given his own, unique task? Anxiety at the thought of not excelling at one thing? Fear of letting their maker down? Perhaps a mixture of all.
“Good. Go.”
“Where—?”
“Go.”
The Sixth scrambled away, bumping into Saer’s kneeling form and provoking a growl from Pride. Errshek stumbled as he half-tripped backwards. “You—I didn’t—”
Saer glowered. Freshly created, and this new family tie already vexed him beyond comprehension for reasons not in his control.
“Errsheken.”
Runeak’s unmistakable low voice snagged their attention, and Saer craned his neck to spot her stalking forward from one of the corridors where she’d witnessed the awakening.
She spared Saer a sharp glance before her eyes darted to the wisp of energy at his grasp.
Her lip twitched in a distasteful, if subtle sneer.
“Search for the Twins or Neyu down the corridors,” she said, focus still fixed on the spirit. “Find one of them and ask to help.”
“But why—? You—?”
Runeak’s lips drew back in a violent snarl, and she snapped her maw at Errshek. “Go!”
From the corner of Saer’s eye, he caught the subtle, approving incline of Lucifer’s head. Errshek nodded again with anxiety-ridden quickness and scurried off while irritation prickled under Saer’s skin.
He held his tongue, only because Lucifer had commanded his silence, but tried to catch Runeak’s attention. When her ebony eyes slid to his, he quirked his brow and pointed with his chin at their maker in a soundless question.
Wrath gave nothing away.
The mixture of Ruki’s death, the return to the Hells while forced to wait, and the absence of Neyu all grated at him. His already short fuse ignited, and he bared his teeth in a silent snarl.
Her nostrils flared, though her expression didn’t change.
“Master,” Runeak’s shifted to face Lucifer with her quiet address. “The arena is finished.”
Their maker didn’t respond, and Saer wondered if It heard her declaration.
“Do you require more rest?” she asked.
Lucifer propped one hand on the nearest stony wall to brace, Its shoulders raising and lowering with a heavy breath. The fallen angel shook Its head. “No. You’ve pleased me, Runeakael. You may go.”
She slid a hoof back. “Saer has brought you something, Master.” A sliver of contempt pierced through the words.
Lucifer nodded again, a small sound leaving Its throat.
Runeak paused, but retreated when no further command came, leaving them alone.
Saer swallowed, wanting to follow her, to search for Neyu, or even catch a glimpse of the others.
Craning Its neck to and fro, the fallen angel made a show of standing taller and stronger, then pivoted to face Saer. The vibrance of Lucifer’s icicle eyes had dimmed, Its skin bereft of the glow Saer knew from his own awakening.
“My Saerkhanum.” The sound of his name on his creator’s lips swirled a mixture of worry and hope in his chest.
Hellsfire.
“Yes, Master.”
The fallen angel’s attention sank to Ruki’s spirit. “What have you brought me?” A purr slithered into Lucifer’s curious voice as It moved towards them.
“Saer?” Ruki’s soul had found a voice.
The fallen angel’s footsteps slowed.
Saer hadn’t been expecting it.
Nor, it seemed, had Lucifer—who wore an expression of amusement.
“Answer it, Saerkhanum,” Lucifer said.
Saer’s silver-horned head lifted, brows pinched. He’d already tried to remove himself from Ruki, to bind himself to duty, dedication, and obedience. The idea of speaking with the soul sparked a discomfort he was ill-prepared to face, and he didn’t understand why.
The fallen angel nodded towards the spirit, amusement forgotten as Its voice lowered to a dangerous whisper. “I won’t say it again, my child.”
The soul watched the two beings communicate with wide, panicked eyes. Even kneeling, Saer stood taller than the boy’s likeness by several heads. He beheld the vaporous, formed energy which once inhabited Ruki, tucked against his side.
“Yes?” The human word grated with difficulty from Saer’s muzzle, between pointed teeth.
Ruki’s essence trembled but stood its ground. “Am I dead?”
Saer growled in assent. “The body of Ruki is dead.”
The spirit’s eyes wandered before returning to him. “If that is you, explain to me. Tell me who and what you are. You said you would.” The words conveyed more confidence than they sounded.
When Saer glanced at Lucifer, the fallen angel appeared delighted in a terrible way. Apparently, It could understand human words as well as Saer.
“Go on, Saerkhanum.”
He studied the frail bundle of energy. It acted like Ruki, looked like Ruki, sounded like Ruki.
Yet, Saer had to remind himself that it wasn’t the boy—couldn’t be the boy.
Though if that were true, how could it remember the agreement the two of them shared?
Saer frowned, but answered as his maker wished.
“I am of the Daemoenica. I serve my master.”
The fallen angel rested a heavy, alabaster hand on Saer’s shoulder, leaning closer to the soul in rapt interest.
It’s not Ruki. Can’t be Ruki.
“Where am I?”
An unfamiliar, uncomfortable pang snagged the inside of Saer’s ribs the longer the spirit spoke. He shoved the sensation aside. “It wasn’t part of our agreement that I tell you where we are.”
Just a spirit. A little ghost.
Lucifer let Its weary, smiling lips brush the top of Pride’s head. Saer couldn’t help the slow blink and thrilled growl which coursed through his body. “Good, my First,” Lucifer whispered. “Now, let me assess your offering.”
Saer released Ruki’s essence and shuffled backwards, ending in his usual kneel.
Lucifer knelt and ran Its delicate fingers over the essence while Ruki’s likeness shuddered, held by some unseen force. Pulling Its arm back, Lucifer shook Its head, face puzzled. “No.” It spoke in Its native tongue, so only Saer could understand. “This isn’t right,” It hissed.
Dread began its slow, steady build deep in Saer’s chest.
His maker leaned towards the soul, which yelped in astonishment at the sudden proximity. Lucifer inhaled.
Ruki’s essence remained intact.
Lucifer’s tongue ran over the side of the soul’s face, but It pulled away as if tasting something vile. Ruki’s spirit swayed, a sickened warble on its lips, but still didn’t move.
A cry of frustration and rage erupted as Lucifer snapped Its focus to Saer, heavenly blue eyes bleeding to a deep, threatening red. No pupil, no white—just constant, glowing, scarlet.
Saer’s gaze lowered with haste, but a white hand tipped with onyx claws flew across his face, and Saer hissed when he was thrown backwards, tasting blood on his lip.
“This is the wrong energy. Foolish child!” Claws raked across Saer’s back, and he bit back the scream desperate to escape.
The next concussive blow landed on the side of his head, rolling him over.
A kick crunched his jaw and nose. More blood ran down his face, and he curled his arms around his head.
“Do you not see what this is doing to me?” Lucifer shrieked.
“That we are running out of time? Who will watch over you, if not me?”
“Master, forgive me! I’ll find you another. The right kind!”
A hand, stronger than any had the right to be, grasped Saer’s wrist and jerked it away. His maker’s features contorted with rage, eyes drowning in crimson. Sharp, deep lines in Its pale skin pulled tight to reveal a maw overflowing with razor-sharp incisors. “Explain.”
Saer spoke with haste, the breath in his lungs all but gone. “I’ll find you a spirit which feels opposite to this one. I won’t disappoint you—I swear it!”
His maker growled, deep and dark as midnight, but released Saer to slump on the floor. As Lucifer’s claws shrank back into long, pristine fingers, It raked their shuddering lengths through Its hair, not looking at him.
“If you fail me again, Saerkhanum,” Lucifer murmured, heartbreak laced through the tone, “I’ll destroy you.”
Saer nodded and struggled to kneel, wincing past the pull and strain of new wounds. He risked another feverish glance around the chambers. Neyu…
His match was nowhere to be seen.
Lucifer delivered Its next order while ambling towards the final, dormant Daemoenic. “Leave immediately. Don’t return until you’ve accomplished your goal.” His maker waved a listless hand towards Ruki’s spirit. “Take that with you.”
Whatever held the soul in place relinquished.
Saer scooped Ruki’s essence up despite its protest and summoned Hellsfire to return them to the surface.
Ruki’s spirit couldn’t fight Saer off when he wrapped his monstrous claws around it.
While it did struggle and holler, Saer’s digits didn’t pass through its essence.
Hellsfire consumed them.