-- PROLOGUE --
He was born centuries ago. Back when the world was ruled by kings and queens and magic was a way of life, and not the stuff of legends. When despite the warnings of the church and their god, the devil was worshipped by witches.
His mother had been one such witch. A small female of black markings and brown coat. One that had been born an heiress of riches and diamonds. One that had been lead astray and tainted. One that had fallen for the smooth gentleman that had appeared one night. A gentleman with a coat as red as blood and horns darker than pitch.
He had been the Devil. As dark and twisted as all stories suggested. And she had fallen for him. Sworn herself to worship him for all of her days. To harness his power and her own to cast the spells and potions that would further her agenda. She could not join his side, she hadn’t the strength for that, but her child would. That she would be sure of.
Her child, her son. An egg that was hatched after she had worshipped him for 66 days and 66 nights and then laid with him on the 68th. He had been hatched with a coat of reds and blacks and creams, and with the tiniest buds of black horns rising out of his skull. He had been a miracle child. But one of darkness rather than light.
She had raised him to be the perfect witch. He knew almost every potion and spell that she did. And even some that she did not. For his magic was strong and powerful, wild and natural in a way that hers could never be. He would serve the Devil well. Of that she was sure.
So it was with that unwavering hesitation that she sacrificed him on the night of the blood moon.
He awoke three years. With wheezing breaths and more power rushing through his veins than he could have ever imagined. Standing before him was a viscet larger than any he had ever seen. With a coat of blood red and black skeletal markings. With horns unlike any he had ever seen. With eyes that were as still as the dead’s.
He learned that day, that he was no longer alive. But rather a demon that had been reanimated by his master: Kieran - the Devil’s Necromancer. He no longer had any good running through his veins. No regret. No sympathy. No, he was a creature of pain and evil. One that existed for one single purpose. To steal souls for his master.
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-- INTRO --He was falling behind. For the first time in centuries, he was falling behind. He had one job, to acquire at least 100 souls a year. And for the first time, he was so far behind it was ridiculous. For centuries he had been able to collect all his souls in a month or so. It was easy. All he had to do was summon his cello and play, and like magic, souls would flock to him.
But for the first time, it wasn’t working. And he knew exactly why.
For the first time in his existence, there was another musician who had the skills and talent to challenge him. A measly little thief known only as Khandura. A mortal who dared to proclaim that he was a prodigy. A genius. One that was the best to ever walk the earth. And the other mortals were foolish enough to listen. To choose Khandura’s shows and concerts over his own. The demon couldn’t let that stand.
Which is why he was determined to capture the other’s soul. It would be easy. All he would have to do is play against the others pride. Challenge him to a duel. One of music rather than blades of course. And once he had one, Khandura’s soul would be his for all eternity.
It had been easy to locate the cello playing mortal. All it took was a quick visit to a seer to locate his home deep in the heart of Georgia. And it had been even easier to pull on his powers and teleport into the house in a flash of red light. The look of surprise and fear that spread across the mortal’s face brought him a sense of bone deep satisfaction.
“Who are you? What are you doing here?” the mortal called out from across the room, a growl beginning to rumble in the back of his throat. His surprise giving way to challenge.
The demon smiled, eyes glinting in the light. “Me? I’m a demon. One whose name would mean nothing to you. And I’m here to steal your soul.” He had learned long ago that names had power. Power that he was unwilling to share with low life mortals.
“And i’m the easter bunny.” Khandura growled out, tail flicking with suppressed energy. “Tell me the truth. Or else.”
“Or else what?” The demon bit back, laughter dancing behind his words. “There exists not a single method of torture that could compare to the hell’s i’ve lived through.” Lies. Not that the other had to know. “I could prove that i’m a demon. But there would be no use. Already you’ve seen my magic. And dismissed it in your mind. I know mortals like you. Silly little things that believe not in demons and witches and magic and more. Nothing I say will be able to sway your mind.”
“You dare to mock me!” Khandura roared, teeth snapping at the end of his words. “I should rip your throat out and see how you fare then you insolent child.”
“Another day perhaps. When i’m in a mood to entertain the petty threats of foolish mortals.” The demon laughed, not at all threatened. All it would take would be a quick spell to slice the other’s throat open where he stood. But that was not his goal. “Today I came to make a deal with you. They say you’re the best cello player on earth. A title that has belonged to myself for centuries. I say we play a piece each. The best musician wins. And if i win, I get your soul.”
Across from him, Khandura hummed. Clearly considering the offer. Just as the demon knew he would. “What would I get from the deal?” the mortal asked, intrest plain in his eyes.
“Anything you wish for.” the demon purred back.
“Your pendant then.” The mortal replied, pointing to the gold and ruby piece hanging from the demon’s throat. “I want that if you lose.”
A brief moment of fear raced through the demon. That pendant was what held his soul. Whoever wore it owned him. “Very well then.” He forced out, words tight in his throat. He was playing with no risk, he reasoned to himself. There was no doubt he would be able to beat the mortal.
With no other confirmation of their deal, he pulled on his magic, summoning his cello to appear before him. It was a delicate looking thing: made of thinly spun gold held together with magic. Raising it up to his shoulder, and holding the bow lightly in the other paw, he began to play. Playing like he had not in centuries. Pulling out every trick and flourish and skill he knew. And somewhere along the way, other instruments began to join in. Their notes born out of the very magic that flowed through his veins. And when he lowered his bow at the end of his
piece, he was alight with the thrill of playing.
He watched silently as Khandura moved across the room to where his own instrument sat. His face was void of all emotion. Impossible for the demon to gauge his reaction. And when he began to play after a few short breaths, the demon was stunned.
It was a short
piece he played. One that was incomplete. No doubt just one section out of a complete song. And even still, it was played masterfully. So greatly, that the demons heart sunk into his chest. He had been wrong. Oh so wrong. This mortal was better than him. No doubt blessed by a being of high power, whether demonic or angelic. He had been beat. For the first time in his life.
It was this realization that he banished his cello away. He needed it no longer. With no words, he ripped the pendant off over his neck. It didn’t belong to him anymore. A bitter look on his face, he tossed it towards the other, uncaring if it struck the ground. It would not break or damage from a simple throw. With one last look at the other, he pulled on his magic and disappeared. Vanishing into thin air.
He had always known when he’d been beat.
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-- CONFLICT --
He had been moping. That much the demon would admit. But how could he not? Not only had he lost his title as the best musician, he had also lost his soul. Again. No longer was he owned by his master or himself, no, he was owned by a mortal. An arrogant and lowly mortal who happened to play as if he was made of the music himself.
For days, Cain had been prodding him to move. To venture out of his lair. To try and capture souls. To play his music. To do anything but sit and mope. But he could not. No matter how hard he tried. It was just too much. Everytime he looked at his cello, he was reminded of the defeat he was suffered. And without his pendant, he couldn’t take souls. He still had his magic of course. All the spells and hexes and potions and what not he had learned long ago back when he was a witch and not a demon. It felt as if his very purpose in existence had been brutally ripped away from him. And so, he laid curled up in his cave, isolated from all others.
The first pull came out of nowhere. And it was so faint a sensation, a simple tingle in his core, that he only barely noticed it. He knew what it was of course. The mortal calling upon him. He had felt it constantly during the early decades of his demonhood when his master held his soul. But he ignored it. The last thing he wanted was to appear before the mortal that had stolen his life away.
There was a second pull short thereafter. And then a third and a fourth and a fifth. But he ignored them all. Despite it turning into a extremely unpleasant situation. But then the sixth pull came. And with it a wave of pain so intense his vision turned to blackness. Something was wrong. Never were the pulls supposed to feel that strong. That painful. Unless of course, he was in danger of his soul being destroyed. Which was ridiculous. That could only happen if the wearer of his pendant was killed.
Stupid mortal.
Leaping to his feat, he reached out with his magic and locked onto the location of the pendant. And then, he breathed out, letting it’s magic wrap around him and drag him to its location. And it was unpleasant. It always was. The lurching of his stomach upon landing sending him rolling on the ground as soon as he popped into existence.
There was silence for a few seconds as he managed to shake the confusion from his head and stumble to his feet. And then three sets of growls rose up, lifting themselves out of the chests of three viscets that stood directly in his line of sight. They were demon hunters he guessed, going by the Eye of Ugin and other religious symbols sewn into the leather vests they were wearing. And if their blood stained teeth and claws were anything to go by, they weren’t there to simply talk.
“Demon.” One of them sneered out, a tall female with black stripes across her back. “How nice of you to finally join us. I can’t wait to make you watch us rip apart your little friend here.”
“I don’t think so.” he sneered, shifting his body until he was in a decent defensive position. “The only ones who will be getting torn apart here are you three.” His words were daggers laced with venom, dripping from his lips in between bared teeth. He had killed before. And he would kill again. For no one threatened his life and go away with it.
“We’ll see about that little one,” A second voice laughed out, a smaller male with fur as whiter than the brightest snow. “Prepare to face justice before Her like you were meant to.”
The anger that had been building inside his chest rose, the demon’s eye glowing brighter than they had ever done so. And the world slowed around him, the edges of his magic wrapping around them and pulling ever so slightly on the fabric of time. He saw with perfect clarity as the three began to move, the muscles in their legs shifting beneath the fur, their jaws dropping open, their claws spreading wide. And he reacted. In the only way he knew how: with violence.
He moved quick as lightning, magic flowing through his veins like it only ever did in a fight. And the details blurred. Everything blurred. Until all he knew was the give of flesh beneath his claws and the taste of blood on his teeth. Until he smelt only burnt fur and saw only the white of bone. Until the demon hunters were dead at his feet and everything was silent.
And then he turned.
Huddled into a corner, blood dripping from his own wounds and fear in his eyes, was the mortal. The demon couldn’t help but smile, eyes still wild and crazed from the fight. Finally he was getting the reaction he deserved from the mortal.
“P-please don’t k-kill me.” Khandura stuttered, eyeing the demon’s bloody claws with open apprehension.
“That would be counter productive.” The demon snorted, a spark of pride rushing through his veins. He had made the mortal so fearful. It was only right. “If I wanted you dead I would have let those hunters kill you themselves.”
That seemed to unlock a piece inside Khandura. “You killed them.” he stated, scrambling to his feet. “You killed them. You really killed them. Oh god they’re dead.”
“Very very dead.” The demon replied, finally turning to look at the carnage with his own eyes. It was impressive. Some of his better work for sure.
“But how did you even get here? You weren’t and then you were.” the mortal rambled, “And you had fire blazing from your paws. Fire. Black fire. That’s not possible. It’s not. Science doesn’t work that way.” He continued to ramble, volume decreasing until his words were inaudible. “What are you?” he finally asked, turning to the demon. “You said once you’re a demon but that can’t be true. Or is it?”
The demon laughed, it seemed that the little mortal was finally accepting the truth. “I’ve already told you i’m a demon. It’s not your fault if you didn’t take me seriously mortal.” Maybe from now on the mortal would learn to listen. “As for how I got here. It’s simple. You almost died. I let the pendant pull me here. Let’s just say it’s not in my best interests to let the holder of my soul die. It’s never much fun.”
“Holder of your soul?” The mortal repeated, confusion clear in his voice. “What do you mean? That makes no sense. You can’t own someone’s soul. If souls are even a thing that exist. You’re speaking nonsense.”
“I mean you own my soul!” he snarled out, voice ringing loudly in the small alley. “You chose my pendant as your prize to our deal. The pendant that happens to contain my soul Khandura. Are you really that daft?”
“What! No! Why would you even bargain your soul in the first place? You should have said no when I asked for the pendant! Or offered something else.” The words fell quickly from Khandura’s mouth. “Or better yet! Maybe not bargain for souls at all. Why did you even challenge me in the first place. I’m obviously no threat to you.”
“It’s not as simple as you make it out to be.” The demon bit back. “I was making a deal for your soul. A deal such as that is not one to be taken lightly. There are rules one has to follow. And one such rule is you offer them anything in return. Including your own soul.” It was how his master had ended up a demon. Bargaining his soul for unlimited power. “And I wanted your soul because I’m behind! I’m supposed to collect a set amount of souls and I can’t do that when no one listens to my music! All because some mortal hotshot has decided to proclaim himself the best cello player in existence. A fact that is true it seems but nonetheless harmful. So i’m sorry, next time i’ll just rip your throat out and leave you laying in your own blood rather than merely stealing your soul!”
"Look, it's obvious that neither of us want to be in this situation but we are.” Khandura replied, obviously trying to take a step back before the actually attacked him. “All I want to do is play my music and to have people listen. All you want are souls. Isn't there some way we can both get what we want without any... throat ripping involved?”
The demon was silent, staring at the other with bared teeth as he ran through his options. It was possible he supposed. Although it wouldn’t be easy. “I suppose. It won’t be easy but it can be done.”
“Okay good. That’s good. Great even.” the mortal said, clearly relieved. “Now can we get out of here? All this blood is starting to be unsettling.”
The demon snorted. Of course. Leave it to the mortal to be unsettled by bones and blood. “Very well.” Before the other could react, he moved forward until he was pressed against the other. And then, he pulled on his magic, and let them disappear from the alleyway.
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-- INTERLUDE --
“I just realized, I don’t know your name.”
“Oh really?”
“Yeah. It’s unsettling. Like I know you know my name. Even if you don’t use it often. But I don’t know yours. And I feel like that’s something I should know? Especially since I’m your master.”
“You’re not my master kid. You own me. There’s a difference. One you’ll be sure to remember if you like all your limbs attached to your body.”
“Sorry! I’m sorry! Please don’t cut off any of my limbs. I like them attached to my body.”
“Good.”
….
“It’s Abdiel.”
“What’s Abdiel?”
“My name. My name is Abdiel.”
x
x
x
“Do you think you could stop calling me kid? Last time I checked that roll belonged to you.”
“What in hell makes you think i'm younger than you?”
“Because visclings are smaller and walk on all fours?”
“I'm a demon kid. The only reason i don't grow is because my mortal body was killed when I was still a child.”
“So you're older than me?”
“I'm over 750 years old. Think about it.”
x
x
x
“It’s amazing how many more people show up to hear my play now that I can boast that i’m better than the devil.”
“Shut it will you.”
“Why? Don’t care for the truth.”
“Not in this case. And besides, i’m not even the devil.”
“That’s not what I recall you saying when I first met you.”
“I said I was a demon kid. I never claimed to be the devil. I don’t have a death sentence.”
“You mean demons and devils aren’t the same thing.”
“No. There’s only one devil. Tyramet. Our king. And trust me when I say you’d rather die 60 time over than meet him in the flesh.”
“You don’t”
“Not at all.”
…
…
“So you’re a demon?”
“Yes you fool! Pay more attention the first time.”
x
x
x
“Okay that’s it! I’m teaching you how to fight.”
“What?”
“I am going to teach you how to fight.”
“But why? I don’t need to fight. You handle all the fighting just fine.”
“I’m getting sick and tired of having to kill each and every demon hunter that is after us. And since they’re after both of us, you can do your share of keeping us from getting killed. Unless you’d rather I let them kill you?”
“No thank you! I like living. I guess I’ll learn to fight.”
“Good. Now grab that knife and get over here.”
“Yessir”
“Other knife.”
“Sorry.”
x
x
x
“You’re getting better at playing that piece kid.”
“Really?”
“You heard me the first time.”
“I’m actually doubting if what I heard was correct though. You don’t give out compliments. It’s not a part of your dark and brooding personality.”
“Would you rather I rip out your vocal cords.”
“Ah there we go. That’s the demon I know.”
“Can it. Or else I’ll drop you off in hell.”
“Love you too gramps”
x
x
x
“And with the souls that we collected from today’s show, that puts our total at 66.”
“Perfect. Master will be pleased when we deliver them.”
“Who is this master your always referring to? I’ve heard you mention him a ton but I know nothing about him.”
…..
“I mean you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to but i’m really getting curious.”
“His name is Kieran. He’s not technically a demon really. He’s more of a dark mage. A necromancer if we want to be exact. It’s rumored that at one point, he was Tyramet’s left hand. But no one knows for certain. What we do know is he’s mated to Ahriman, the devil’s firstborn. And that he is definitely not one to be trifled with.”
“He sounds….terrifying.”
“Oh he is. You’ll see that when we meet up with him tomorrow.”
“What do you mean ‘when we meet up with him.’ There’s no way I’m meeting a necromancer who is married to a literal devil.”
“Too bad kid. That’s what you signed up for when you agreed to help me collect souls.”
“That’s it. Kill me now. Please.”
“That can be arranged.”
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-- CONFLICT --
It had started as a normal day. Or at least one as normal as the two had ever managed to wake up to. They were in a small city. Just hours ago, they had performed in front of their largest crowd yet. It had been a grand sight to see. The two of them standing atop the stage, cellos glinting in the light, as they played as if their lives depended upon it. And all around them, Abdiel’s magic swirling in the air. A stunning cloud of red and black that would cling onto the silver and gold of souls and drag them out of bodies and into his pendant. It was marvelous really.
In just that one show alone, they had managed to steal nearly seventy souls. A number so high it was nearly incomprehensible that it would come from one singular show. And yet, it had. For the first time in decades, Abdiel was ahead of his quota. So far ahead it was ridiculous. If he was a more naive and innocent thing, he would fear the day that his master forced him to stop collecting souls and take a break. But he was wise enough to know that day would never happen.
For once, they had gone out to explore the city. Most days, they would stay locked in their hotel room between shows. Not daring to venture out in order to avoid any potential demon hunters in the area. It seemed that ever since Her awakening, Ugin’s followers had grown in exponential numbers. And a worryingly high amount of those seemed to be the fanatic kind. The kind that believed it was their duty to the world to dispose of the ‘demonic film’ that walked the earth.
It wasn’t that they feared the demon hunters. Of course not. They had yet to meet a group that they were not able to destroy with ease. No, it was more that they cared not to face them. To waste the effort and energy they could put towards something valuable and rewarding rather than feeble minded delusionists with a tendency towards violence.
It had been a mistake though. They never should have left the room. They never should have wandered over the bridge into the darker side of town. They should have teleported out of there as soon as they noticed the bright blue viscet approaching them, her vest adorned with the Eye of Ugin. Or at least, that is what the demon concluded as he was thrown through the air for the fifth time that night. When he hit the ground, he hit hard, the rough gravel tearing into his side and sending the air rushing out of his lungs. For a few moments, just enough time for his eyes to blink twice, he laid there, struggling to catch his breath.
And then, a cry of pain was pulling him back onto his feet. Forcing his paws into motion. Urging him forward into a run that lead into a leap as he attempted to lodge himself onto the back of his attacker. Their attacker. Khandura’s attacker. For it seemed that she was more interested than killing the mortal than himself.
Every physical attack they launched would be meet with appropriate resistance. But the attacks she wielded out were far different. She had sent the demon flying countless times. Always throwing him off of her back and into the air, slamming him into the ground or the nearest wall. But it was the poor mortal that faced the brunt of her attacks. It was he that she would sink her claws into. That she would tear at with her teeth. That she crush his bones until they were on the verge of breaking.
And it made no sense. None at all. There was no reason to attack the mortal over himself. He was the demon. The filthy parasite that had coerced the mortal into his servitude. He was the evil one, not Khandura. But he was worried. The mortal was just that, mortal. And not even a magical one at that. The only magic that Khandura vaguely possessed was that which came from the pendant. And even then, it belonged to Abdiel.
It wasn't until several minutes later, after he had been sent flying into a wall once again, that the realization hit him. She was trying to kill Khandura in order to gain control over his soul.
Time seemed to slow as Abdiel rushed to his feet. He had to get the kid out of here. Fast. Or else they would both be done for. But he was too slow. A fact he realized as the hunter lunged forward, a growl dripping from her lips as she latched her teeth onto the mortals neck.
The scream of pain that Khandura let out rang through the air, filling every crevice of Abdiel’s mind. And it hurt. It hurt so badly. Not only the physical pain that washed over the demon, a warning that his life was in danger, but the emotional pain. He had failed the mortal. The stupid kid he had somehow grown attached to over the years.
His magic lashed out without a conscious thought. A wave of red and black fire that had no target, just a simple mission: destroy the threat. Abdiel could see his magic latching onto the hunter, setting her alight, but he paid it no mind. The only sight in his mind was Khandura, his body lying motionless on the ground.
He scrambled over, paws pressed to the wound as he assessed the damage. It was a large wound, one that there would be no recovering from. Not without healing magic far stronger and powerful than the depleted powers he possessed. There would be no saving the kid. For the first time in years, Abdiel felt completely and utterly helpless.
Beside him, Khandura tried to speak. His words weak and breathless. “Shut it kid,” He barked out, running his claws through the other’s mane. “I don’t want to hear it.” It. The countless excuses and apologies that would no doubt spew from the others lips. He didn’t want to hear them. Because it was his fault the mortal was dying.
He watched, voice caught in his throat, as Khandura scrambled to reach the pendant around his neck. As he weakly pulled it off and thrust it towards the demon. “Dura,” he stuttered out, carefully taking the pendant, his soul from the other. He had regained his soul. But he couldn’t help but feel numb to the encounter. For before he could even thank him, Khandura’s last words spilled from his lips, sentence unfinished, an attempt to say his name. The mortal coughed harshly, and then, with one final breath, his body grew still. The cold hands of death latching onto him.
For the first time in centuries, Abdiel cried.
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-- OUTRO --The summoning salts had nearly burnt out when Abdiel finally felt his presence. When the icy cold stillness of a cemetery washed through him. When the shadows darkened and twisted until a shape formed. Until standing there in the shadows was his master: Kieran.
“You know what I want.” Abdiel muttered, raising his eyes from the ground before him to meet the gaze of the other. “Will you help me Master?” His voice was weak, strained. Broken nearly as much as his soul.
There was silence for nearly an hour. An hour wherein the necromancer stared down at his demon even as his demon stared at the corpse of his mortal. Abdiel couldn’t bring himself to speak again. He knew begging would mean nothing to his master. All he could do was hope that he would take pity on him.
Finally, his master spoke, voice smooth as unbroken glass. “Very well.” He stepped out of the shadows and into the faint moonlight, stopping only in front of the corpse lying on the cold ground. “For this though, you shall be mine for a millennia more. And he shall be yours, and thereby mine as well, for twice fold. These are my terms. Do you accept them?”
“I do.” Abdiel agreed without hesitation.
No other words were spoken, but Kieran smiled. And then the shadows condensed and grew until there was not a single speck of light in the vicinity. For nearly an hour they swirled and throbbed, and when they retreated, Kieran was gone. But Khandura’s throat was healed and he was breathing once more.
For the first time in hours, Abdiel moved. Racing forward until he was beside the younger. He got there just as his eyes opened, pupils vertical in a way there had never been before. An obvious sign he was a mortal no longer, but instead a demon. But it mattered not to Abdiel. He had his friend back.
“Khandura.” he sighed, pulling the other into a tight embrace. “I’m sorry. It’s my fault you died. I should have gotten us out when I had the chance.”
Khandura hugged him back, burying his face into the older demon’s neck. “I was dead. Now i’m not. How Abdiel? I know you can’t heal.”
Abdiel drew in a deep breath. “I made a deal with my master. It brought you back to life, but your,” he hesitated, afraid for just a second about how the other would react.
“You’re a demon now kid.”
by cyberdragon275
