Feigned Delusion

The stream ran gently through the rubble where a miniature bridge once stood. Covering each stone was a translucent-crimson film, slowly being washed away by the current.

“Hmph!” A sickening crack spilled the small, limp body’s life-force over the ruins.

A man stood, hunched over the boy’s corpse, his breathing labored. Looking away, he gently tossed the body to his feet. The cold water was made all the warmer for it. His body trembled as he bent over to wash the viscera from between his fingers.

It wasn’t enough.

The thought repeated in his mind, distracted even from his hands numbing in the stream. He blinked slowly, regaining a sense of himself after seven heartbeats. He looked up at a young woman, dressed in regal decor. Her eyes widened, pupils dilated with a primal fear, her breaths coming in shallow gasps.

“L–Lord, hel–” She fell to her knees, retching.

He extended his hand. “Enough, Sabrina. Bring the blade.”

Sabrina collapsed, fingers clawing at the dirt, searching for something to hold onto. The man withheld himself from approaching. Darkness fell upon the world.

“Enough.” A guttural voice echoed around him.

“As a Huerethian.” The man spoke with conviction as he witnessed Sabrina’s head snap up to look at him. His muscles enlarged, nearly tearing apart his made-to-fit suit. A devilish chuckle filled the still, repugnant air. Sabrina’s cries could still be heard as her mouth opened, wider, popping before slowly breaking at the seams. Making way for what came out– a finger, pointing towards the sky. Seconds passed, the man remained locked onto the body, waiting for anything.

“I do not see. A small man, and twins watch over me. Why?” The voice was coarse, each sentence followed by a shuddering breath. “There! There! There!” The finger pulled in on itself and extended rapidly, pointing at the sky.

“Devil, do not believe you can–” A blinding white light drowned out the darkness, he could not help but glance at the sky.

“I do not see. I do not wish to!” The devil roared. “Leave me be!” As the man tried to process its words, his body reacted, tightening for the impact heading his way. The devil stood before him, in a single motion, it swung its right fist.

His feet left the ground as the impact carried him across the field, the ground tore as the man crashed into it. He stared at the sky, the blinding light remained, it flickered– a falling star. His arm fell limply, pain shot up his torso, it was clear now– he could not win. The Devil stood before him, it eclipsed him, and it burned; its screams shook the very earth. He could hear its wailing as it writhed on the field of sundews.

“As a Neirajie.” The man forced out through struggling breaths. The flowers withered and the ground cracked as life left the earth, the man’s bones rattled as he stood. He took a step, his wounds mending, and approached the towering beast. Through the inferno, a bright shine pierced, the creature was missing the top half of its head, in its stead was a hemisphere of an iridescent, metallic substance.

It’s a lackey.

The man's face contorted, his lips quivered, jaw clenched. Tears rolled down his cheeks, “As Shokro, the vast.” In a single motion, he slammed his foot on the ground, his muscles tightened and a crimson hue emanated from his body. He took a stance, pulling back one leg, and pushed his torso forward as he prepared to engage.

“It’s only down from here.” A pleasant voice echoed, the man tensed as he bore witness to the sight of a tiny hand reaching out to the devil from behind him. Barely touching his  eyelashes the fingers squished the devil with no more effort than stepping on a blade of grass.

“What’s wrong, Shokro? Scared? Frustrated? Confused?” Shokro turned to look at the source of the voice. There stood a man, no taller than he. He was nude and spoke calmly.

“Are y–”

“Samael– the morning star.” Shokro hesitated to inquire further. “It’s been centuries since anyone tried to invoke one of us, I was certain the knowledge was lost along with the library.” Samael calmly sat on the flowery ground. Shokro had paid no attention to his surroundings, failing to even notice the once bright light in the sky was now gone, the twin moons stood in its place, a massive ring of debris surrounded them.

“I’ll say this, do not ask for power. You simply are not capable of wielding it.” Samael plucked a sundew from the stem. “You doubted my existence, didn’t you?” The man lowered his head and fell to his knees, keenly aware of the error he had made.

“Stronger resolve is needed, Shokro, and I have an idea.” A sinister smile was carved on his face. “Bet on me, Shokro.” The man’s eyes widened at Samael’s words as he nodded. “You’ve done what you could, leave it to me.”

The man had no doubt this was the devil, however, “I couldn’t act at the Alcheon summit. Why did he let me live?” There was nobody left to turn to.

“Why bother asking that when you know the answer?” Samael’s words pierced his soul, Shokro questioned how much the devil knew. He had run, doubted himself, sought help from the devil and with no conviction, had murdered his son to get his attention.

“You’re not completely worthless Shokro, and I’m not horrible enough to not give you the minimum. Before anything else, what would you like to know?” Samael held out the sundew as it curled in on itself.

With fire in his eyes and vigor in his voice, he inquired.

“Tell me about the Seraph.”