In another layer of Hell, where no normal demon would dare to tread of their free will, a horned demon sits in her workstation, mulling over recent happenings.
It is no news that the Demons have always sought to dominate the universe, dissatisfied at being ‘relegated’ to the ‘bottom’ of the world for so long. The desire to conquer, subdue and exercise dominion over all races is one that has grown with time.
You would wonder why a people who have everything one could possibly wish for- power, wealth, fame, beauty, sex appeal, pleasure, you name it- are intent on war.
The truth is that demons can never be satisfied. It is not in their nature to be content. The inordinate desire to own all, possess all, enjoy all and become all originated from Lucifer himself, and although he split himself into seven parts and bestowed them on his disciples- the Seven Sins- a smidgen of his overall nature still exists within them. That is to say that demons
“I need a soak.”Nevaeh nutters to herself, as she heads to the bathing chambers installed in her workstation. It is a lot smaller than the one she has at home, but she doesn’t mind. It is only meant to provide her with just enough comfort to concentrate on her work, not pamper her to stupor.She might be a princess, but in this part of the world, even princesses need to prove their worth.The aromatic oils, bath bombs and perfume oils do little to reduce the strain on her mind. She feels more clearheaded, but considering that she isn’t anywhere closer to making her up mind than before, the effects of the bath can be graded as a pass, at most.Drying her body is not an activity that should take time, but Nevaeh prefers to do it the ‘mortal’ way. She learned this from her tutor, a depraved mortal soul whose punishment was to be tortured for eternity but was retrieved by Wrath to tutor Nevaeh after a soul search that was
Two and a half months is such a short, unimportant amount of time for any member of the supernatural world, especially one who has been alive for centuries. They say that time is subject to the mind, and to one who has lived for quite a long time, time sure does flow differently- at a leisurely, relaxed pace.But for the first time in his entire life, Llearth realizes how he has taken something so fundamental to the existence of the universe for granted. The fact that time flows differently in the supernatural realm eroded his sense of time and periodicity over the years.Two and a half months is a wakeup call for him.Two and a half months of searching. Two and a half months of worry. Two and a half months of yearning.He has not had the time to properly sort out his feelings for Brandon. That will have to wait until the latter is found- what is the use of pining over someone whose survival in Hell is not guaranteed? Assuming he survived the crash (the s
Demons are anything but trustworthy creatures. The essence of trust is a foreign concept to them, and virtues like faithfulness and loyalty are twisted in ways that would make the most perverse of witches barf. Do not try to understand how they do it, or you might just end up with lost time and resources, along with a pounding head to boot.They trust in their way.They are loyal to themselves alone.And there is not a thing that can be done about it, for that is why they are demons. Being twisted is a norm.Llearth racks his brain for when he may have made a promise to his sister. The female could be a conniving bitch, and he’d say it to her face without any remorse for comparing his blood sister to a merely mortal beast. The truth is that she really isn’t far off from being one, with her inability to properly utilize Lucifer’s blessing.How that happened is a mystery that he cannot be bothered to uncover.“When and
A loud crash rouses Klade from the depths of a restless, worry-filled slumber.It is said that when a body at a state of rest or in uniform motion is interrupted by a moving force, dissonance and chaos, the not-so-distant siblings of confusion, ensue.Klade springs up like a provoked python rearing to unleash a fatal strike, but the restraints around him remind him of the reality of his situation. Most binds would’ve loosened by now, if he didn’t manage to shred them apart. But this is not ‘most binds’.This are binds set in place by a chief ghoul in his prime. And if he doesn’t want you to move, you have no other choice. You must stay as you are.With his senses strengthened by his ancestor’s blessing, Klade can sense that his sudden, violent movement placed a great strain on his restraints. But he also senses that they are nowhere close to snapping.He would have broken into a flurry of colourful swear words, h
Travis hangs limply in the air, blood continuously streaming from his orifices like water from a tap.At this rate, he’d be dead.Oh no! what have I done!The panic worsens Klade’s condition, and he struggles to breathe. He begins to choke on his vomit, and the chief ghoul knows that he has to intervene before things get out of hand. Grumbling to himself about being cheated by Pride, he drops Travis on a mattress he conjured out of air in an unceremonious fashion.Upon reaching Klade, he realizes that the whites of the guard’s eyes have begun showing.This is bad. Just what did Pride do to him to trigger this?Hitting Klade’s chest does little to quell the rising panic reflected in the guard’s eyes. Were this situation not so dire, Maestro Bahgül would’ve tried to capture this on a canvas. The lack of technology like the digital camera necessitated the use of painting or drawi
Realizing that his nonchalant words may have upset and somehow irked a certain highly-ranked demon, Maestro Baghül rephrases his sentence in a less detached manner. We want to poke the dear, but let’s not overdo it.“Prior to completing his first task, he wasn’t my student. But that is beside the point. Your scion decided to enter with a bang, and my beloved gate has to face the consequences of his flamboyant actions. As if that was not enough, his guard vomited all over my rug. My rug!For Lucifer’s sake! That rug is…”“a rare, exotic gift from the mortal realm. I know. I doubt you will let me hear the end of it though.” Pride does not let his former colleague finish. But can these words be enough to stop a disgruntled ghoul from airing his grievances? Highly unlikely.There is a reason ghouls are unforgiving, grudge-keeping creatures.“I am not particularly concerned with what y
Natalia’s failed awakening has far-reaching consequences than she can ever imagine.When a child fails, he or she does not fail alone.Failure spreads out to its surroundings, like the butterfly effect. Everyone around you is as affected by your failure as they are by your success.And when your identity is special, the pressure you face is tougher than you can imagine. There is a lot at stake. Perfection is required of you, and this slowly but inevitably becomes the norm. Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown, true. But for the scion of the crown-wearer, things are worse.You cannot fail.You dare not fail.Estelle Vane is one of the most powerful witches to ever walk the Earth, but even she is not exempt from this convention.One of the motives behind the witches’ acceptance of a hybrid as their supreme ruler is due to the potential she possesses. Who cares if her blood is diluted? The power inherent in it is already
Were Sandara here, she would notice the tell-tale signs of nervousness- a ticked jaw, slightly narrowed eyes and the twitching of the left little finger- on the High Witch’s face. But, she isn’t, and the ones who are here are none the wiser.“I do not recall making a formal announcement of an Awakening, so I would like to know the basis of this declaration.”“So you admit it, then.”“Admit what?”“Admit that you neglected to announce your daughter’s Awakening.”“I admit to nothing. I have no knowledge of the matters you speak of.”Estelle chooses to play dumb, and everyone in this room knows it. Since she refuses to admit to anything, there is no evidence against her. All they have are just allegations. Mere words that do not hold water before the council or any other regulatory body they can report her to.It's annoying when you know the truth but cannot pr
The slaughter formation is triggered, and it reaps the lives of the opposition without delay.As the formation drains the blood from the witches, screams of varying pitches and intensities rend the air. The High Witch makes sure to seal the entire room within a bubble that prevents sound from escaping to the surroundings. Even though the office of the High Witch is in a secluded place, it is better to take no chances with something like this.The screams are a queer melody to Estelle’s ears, as she revels in their suffering. Finally, she can be at ease, knowing that there is one less hidden knife capable of stabbing her in the back. The opposition has overstayed their welcome; they have become a parasite that needs to be flushed out as quickly as possible.The redhead witch dies with her eyes opened, full of hate and loathing. Such venomous eyes would scare most people, but it only adds to the beauty of the pictures formed in her mind, the mental images sh
One became the High Witch, and the other is widely known as the Jade Witch. Two sisters with the ancient bloodline running in their veins.”At this revelation, everyone is shocked, and the sight of their eyes bulging like they are about to be ejected from their sockets gives the High Witch a twisted sense of joy. Now you know how it feels to be ‘shocked senseless’. You haven’t heard anything yet. By the time I am done with you, you will have to pick up those eyeballs, along with your jaws, from the floor before I end you.“Now, tell me,” Estelle cocked her head to the side, like a doctor trying to explain something simple to a mentally challenged individual, “why I would fear the likes of you. If not for her intervention, would you still be alive to spout nonsense?”Estelle does not need to categorically mention the ‘her’ in this context. Everyone knows that the only witch who wields power over
Once upon a time, there lived a powerful witch, with magic as powerful as time itself and a beauty that was beyond this world. Unable to completely break free of the psychological shackles that had bound her as a witchling, she chose to dwell in a cave, isolated from the rest of her kind. Perhaps, it was a good decision, for everyone else feared her as much as she feared herself, or even more. As they say, out of sight is out of mind. And thus, she was gradually forgotten.She had a rather queer relationship with her sister, for they were not friends, but they could not be said to be enemies either. They were as different as lard and cheese, yet they could trust each other a pinch.The horns of war beckoned once more, and her sister, alongside many other powerful witches and wizards, joined in the battle for supremacy against the spawns of Hell. This time, however, she was left with the last child of her sister, a witchling that had barely lived up to half a century.
“Stop beating about the bush and tell us what you have discovered, Heidi.” One of the older witches berates her, and she apologises with a pout. Her sullen expression makes he look all the more adorable.Heidi. A beautiful name for an equally beautiful woman.Estelle Vane is not so self-absorbed to think that she is the only beautiful witch in the world. And she does not mince words when it comes to admiring something that is deservedly worthy of the label ‘beautiful’.This does not affect her stance though. Heidi and the rest of her acquaintances will be reduced to corpses today, and the High Witch will make sure of that. nothing can threaten the safety of her daughter. Not at this time.She can only blame herself for being with the wrong people.“Awakening is a matter of joy and a cause for celebration, because at last, the children are becoming adults. More importantly, the Awakening of the so-call
Were Sandara here, she would notice the tell-tale signs of nervousness- a ticked jaw, slightly narrowed eyes and the twitching of the left little finger- on the High Witch’s face. But, she isn’t, and the ones who are here are none the wiser.“I do not recall making a formal announcement of an Awakening, so I would like to know the basis of this declaration.”“So you admit it, then.”“Admit what?”“Admit that you neglected to announce your daughter’s Awakening.”“I admit to nothing. I have no knowledge of the matters you speak of.”Estelle chooses to play dumb, and everyone in this room knows it. Since she refuses to admit to anything, there is no evidence against her. All they have are just allegations. Mere words that do not hold water before the council or any other regulatory body they can report her to.It's annoying when you know the truth but cannot pr
Natalia’s failed awakening has far-reaching consequences than she can ever imagine.When a child fails, he or she does not fail alone.Failure spreads out to its surroundings, like the butterfly effect. Everyone around you is as affected by your failure as they are by your success.And when your identity is special, the pressure you face is tougher than you can imagine. There is a lot at stake. Perfection is required of you, and this slowly but inevitably becomes the norm. Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown, true. But for the scion of the crown-wearer, things are worse.You cannot fail.You dare not fail.Estelle Vane is one of the most powerful witches to ever walk the Earth, but even she is not exempt from this convention.One of the motives behind the witches’ acceptance of a hybrid as their supreme ruler is due to the potential she possesses. Who cares if her blood is diluted? The power inherent in it is already
Realizing that his nonchalant words may have upset and somehow irked a certain highly-ranked demon, Maestro Baghül rephrases his sentence in a less detached manner. We want to poke the dear, but let’s not overdo it.“Prior to completing his first task, he wasn’t my student. But that is beside the point. Your scion decided to enter with a bang, and my beloved gate has to face the consequences of his flamboyant actions. As if that was not enough, his guard vomited all over my rug. My rug!For Lucifer’s sake! That rug is…”“a rare, exotic gift from the mortal realm. I know. I doubt you will let me hear the end of it though.” Pride does not let his former colleague finish. But can these words be enough to stop a disgruntled ghoul from airing his grievances? Highly unlikely.There is a reason ghouls are unforgiving, grudge-keeping creatures.“I am not particularly concerned with what y
Travis hangs limply in the air, blood continuously streaming from his orifices like water from a tap.At this rate, he’d be dead.Oh no! what have I done!The panic worsens Klade’s condition, and he struggles to breathe. He begins to choke on his vomit, and the chief ghoul knows that he has to intervene before things get out of hand. Grumbling to himself about being cheated by Pride, he drops Travis on a mattress he conjured out of air in an unceremonious fashion.Upon reaching Klade, he realizes that the whites of the guard’s eyes have begun showing.This is bad. Just what did Pride do to him to trigger this?Hitting Klade’s chest does little to quell the rising panic reflected in the guard’s eyes. Were this situation not so dire, Maestro Bahgül would’ve tried to capture this on a canvas. The lack of technology like the digital camera necessitated the use of painting or drawi
A loud crash rouses Klade from the depths of a restless, worry-filled slumber.It is said that when a body at a state of rest or in uniform motion is interrupted by a moving force, dissonance and chaos, the not-so-distant siblings of confusion, ensue.Klade springs up like a provoked python rearing to unleash a fatal strike, but the restraints around him remind him of the reality of his situation. Most binds would’ve loosened by now, if he didn’t manage to shred them apart. But this is not ‘most binds’.This are binds set in place by a chief ghoul in his prime. And if he doesn’t want you to move, you have no other choice. You must stay as you are.With his senses strengthened by his ancestor’s blessing, Klade can sense that his sudden, violent movement placed a great strain on his restraints. But he also senses that they are nowhere close to snapping.He would have broken into a flurry of colourful swear words, h