Chapter 4: Black Flames

The Royalty of the Dark were once Angels. Betrayal sent them to Hell, but it was Hell that corrupted them. They are the original Fallen. Other Angels have been corrupted by Hell since, but none can compare to the Original Ten. They are to be scorned. They are to be pitied.-A scrap of Parchment that burned at Alexandria

Devnik

I had almost forgotten.

Strange really ... how I could have almost forgotten. Like a piece of gristle between a tooth, or a pain that lingered and wouldn't go away, I had learned to ignore it ... almost.

I was sitting with my legs crossed, in a room with no doors nor windows. It was perfectly dark.

The smooth stone walls made any sound reverberate for a minute before it slowly disappeared. I had placed wards on the walls. Not to keep myself hidden, but to amplify what went on in here. If I was to play my part, the Light needed to sense me.

Slowly, I began to ease the iron grip I held over 'that' aspect of myself.

Like a muscle that had been held clenched and tight for too long, as soon as I relaxed my barriers, a pressure lifted, and a stress I hadn't know I carried was dissipated.

The power rushed to the surface with a roar.

Black flames sprang up on the dark stone. They flickered menacingly about my seated form. They were hungry ... oh they were hungry. I stared back at them, transfixed. Their dancing shapes whispered to me.

They wanted to destroy, to undo. Anything they touched would be consumed ... obliterated.

These shadow flames were Destruction made manifest.

The power surged again, and the heatless, lightless flames rose. I couldn't control them, it had been too long. With a feral howl I clamped down again. I could feel my mental barriers bow and shudder underneath Destruction's might.

Why do you deny us Master? They uttered sadly.

We love you ... we are you ... we could make you great again

My shields solidified, and the voices stopped, and I was left alone in my place of rest ... deep under the Dublin Manson.

All I could hear was the sound of my unsteady breath.

My hands shook, but that was not important.

The sun was setting once more, and I hadn't slept.

This deep underground, the sun did not send me into my normal lethargy. My thoughts had drifted between my struggle with my own powers ... and my lost Halfling.

I hoped she was finding her way to me, I hoped Jon was guiding her here.

My hands ached to possess her again, and that small part of conscience that she had been able to wake ached to love her again.

Thinking of one sister, made me think of the other. Bitter Cariel would still be confined to her bed. The band would make sure of that. I had half a mind to let her sit there for eternity. Still, I didn't want to summon Destruction again so soon.

A little distraction might be welcome.

I dissolved my form, and left the underground room.

I gathered myself together, and took solid form again at the foot of the Angel's bed.

Cariel looked on in shock as my body formed out of red sparks.

"Hello there," I said in my best deep and hypnotic voice.

She was staring at me, her silver eyes wide and full of fear. She clutched the sheet to her naked body, and she edged as far away from me as the bed would allow. Her shoulders bumped into the head board, and her lower lip quivered.

"I sensed it again," she said softly, her voice colored with despair and anger, "I sensed what you keep hidden."

I shrugged, "I've been told to be distracting. Didn't you ever wonder why I am called the Prince of Destruction?"

Her face moved between different emotions rapidly. It settled on hatred.

Cariel looked up at me ... her lips curled in disgust, "What a thing to be lord of. You are pathetic. You are a blight on existence, tearing down what was lovingly built."

I froze.

No one spoke to me that way. She should be terrified ... yet once again, this red haired Seraphim sought to irk me. I curled my hand into a fist. For a moment I thought I would destroy her ... despite the fact that she was Maria's sister. My black flames could eat her being in a heartbeat. I wouldn't have to fiddle with burying her alive. Destruction would feast upon her and I would never be troubled by her again.

But the moment passed, and I realized it would leave a poor taste in my mouth if I validated her by using my namesake.

"What?" Cariel said mockingly, "Couldn't do it? You should just destroy me Demon, it would spare me another moment in your wretched presence."

"Silence," I spat.

The band flashed. Cariel doubled over and she coughed noiselessly.

"Why would I destroy you, when I can play with you instead?" I asked slowly ... I stalked over to the bed, and my dark form loomed over her. On the bed, clothed in nothing but a white sheet, the little Angel's bravado was broken only by her shivering.

Her pale white skin quivered in fear. Her red hair looked striking as it touched her fair shoulders.

The beauty of an Angel.

I faltered.

This was hard. My heart wasn't in this familiar game. Her fear was a reflex to a creature like me. Her mind remained unbroken ... and I found that I didn't want to do it harm. This was Maria all over again. These sisters had a strange power over me.

I took a step back.

Now I just wanted to sleep ... I just wanted to not think for a while.

I wanted to forget.

Cariel stared at me. Her mouth wasn't moving, but her eyes told a story of disgust.

Maybe she was right. Even if I didn't rape her ... there was nothing I could do about being the living aspect of Destruction. I would always be evil in her eyes.

I shook myself. The Dark had long ago accepted its role.

"Come," I said, "Follow me downstairs. I will keep an eye on you while I practice."

Cariel

My mouth wouldn't work.

I had more to say to this Demon. He confused me, he enraged me. He represented an evil that could not be contained.

He touched me softly. He had bathed me. For one small second I had felt cared for as he put me to bed.

No ... mustn't think those thoughts. My body was already his, my mind mustn't follow.

I watched his back as he gracefully descended the stairs. He was wearing a dark black waist coat with a charcoal vest and blood red tie.

His French outfit had been similar. I tried not to notice how nicely he filled out his coat. I tried not to remember how firm his body had been pressed next to mine.

Mustn't think those thoughts.

Instead, I focused on my fury. My resolve strengthened as I remembered how he had enslaved my half-sister. My resolve strengthened as I remember those awful black flames that lived at his core.

Yes ... now I had found my strength.

My breasts wobbled slightly as I walked. Being kept naked was so humiliating. Yet, here I was, following the Demon like a beast on a leash. I wasn't even aloud to talk ... making me a mute beast.

We entered the lounge from the previous night.

The Demon sat with his back to the fireplace. With a wave of his hand, the burgundy and gold curtains drifted open, and the moon peered in through window panes. The room glowed milk white.

"Be seated," Devnikolus said dismissively.

My legs moved without my input, and deposited me unceremoniously on the plush leather couch.

"Don't move," Devnikolus said, "No matter what happens."

With that, his eyes slid shut, hiding those blazing red eyes behind pale lids. Without those hateful eyes, the Prince of Destruction looked like a beautiful dark haired man.

The room grew cold again ... and I knew the Demon was calling his power.

It wouldn't be pretty red sparks this time either. Devnikolus was practicing his unique art.

In the fireplace, black flames leapt up.

They offered no warmth and they offered no light. Within the silence I thought I could hear voices cackling within the flames. Cold voices, evil voices.

Devnikolus opened his eyes. He must have seen something he didn't like on my face, because he turned away. The Demon Prince stared into the unnatural fire and took a deep breath.

"It is getting easier," Devnikolus said, "The flames will not destroy that which I do not allow them to. They will not spread unless I allow them to. After more than a millennium, it takes me but one night to regain my control. Even I am surprised."

The Prince of Destruction had not used this power for one thousand years? Curious.

Why did black flames not eat away the churches and monasteries of the world? Why did cities not disappear under the Demon's power? Every other Demon I knew would have unleashed this weapon at a whim.

"You may speak," the Demon said, "Tell me ... do you think these midnight fires are pretty?" He asked mockingly.

"Why has it been so long since you have called this power?" I asked, ignoring his goading.

He turned his head, "I didn't know any talkative Seraphims before now," he said spitefully.

I bit my lower lip in frustration.

It was so strange to be the weak one for once. As a Second Sphere Seraphim, few creatures in creation could treat me as this Demon did. I was used to giving orders, and smiting the Dark where ever it hid.

"Why won't you answer my question?" I said, trying to match the enmity in his voice.

Devnikolus turned to face me. His face looked weary, and his eyes looked lidded.

"Why don't you use this power?" I asked again.

"Stop asking Cariel," the Demon said, using my real name for the first time in a long time, "I feel every one of my years this night. You have done enough to test me. Be thankful you are alive ... most of the Dark would have killed you by now."

Behind him, a flicker of movement caught my eye. The black flames were seeping out of the fire place. The very stone of the hearth seemed to be burning.

"Demon!" I shouted, "The flames!"

Devnikolus whirled around and gazed on as the very stone of the fireplace started to disintegrate.

The Demon Prince clapped his hands together, and the fires of Destruction recoiled. Slowly the heatless blaze dwindled, and then winked out. Devnikolus was breathing heavily and his legs were buckling.

Devnik

Such weakness ... and in front of the Angel to make matters worse.

For just a brief moment, I had felt so tired and then the flames had slipped their leash.

Her question wasn't groundless, but I didn't want to answer. Things in the past should remain there. But some part of me wanted to confide in someone

I turned to gaze upon the red haired Angel. Her silver eyes blinked at me curiously. At least curiosity was better than the outright loathing she expressed earlier.

It wouldn't do for me to express my doubts to another member of the Dark. We might be united against the Light, but we had endured plenty of internal fighting. When another Demon Prince sensed weakness we would try and steal land and subjects from each other's plane of Hell.

But this soft vulnerable looking Angel was mine, bought and paid for with magic that was exceptional even for me. She could be anything I wanted her to be. I still needed a bondsman. She could attend to me. She could ease this weariness that recent events had pressed down on me. She could be my unwilling confidant.