“The only pain in pleasure is the pleasure of the pain.”
* Anne Rice
The large fire cast long, dancing shadows on the dunes of the Sahara, the revelry lasting long into the night. It was on one such dune that Kain sat, quietly watching as his fellow Nephiyl availed themselves of the many pleasures the Cardinals had to offer. Kain, too, had partaken in the benefits of the uneasy alliance, but as the night waxed full boredom had quickly driven him into seclusion. It was not that the gathering of demons, demigods, and fallen spawn lacked for entertainment. On the contrary, the only limit to the party favors seemed to be wicked imagination. No, it was the hollow falseness of the scene that drove him out of the flickering light.
The Nephiyl were nothing but a means to an end for the Cardinals, a tool to be used until either the task was completed, or the tool broken. The entertainment being offered up to his little band of miscreants was nothing more than placation, a way to keep them happy and under control. Like an elaborate television program come to life, it was a distraction and nothing more. Kain almost smiled in approval as he watched the manipulation. It was a smart move on behalf of his benefactors.
Kain looked down at his hands, barely visible this far from the light, as his mind drifted to the real payment the Cardinals had offered for his services. At an exertion of his will, the corruption began spreading through his veins, the black lines appearing on his skin like a roadmap to oblivion. He could feel it now, the power that coursed through him. It was akin to an all-encompassing hunger, seeking new flesh to devour. He reveled in it, even as he could feel it consuming him as well.
Like the sins that were their demesne, the gifts of the Cardinals were both addictive, and self-destructive. The more Kain used his power, the more he wanted to use it. And the less human he felt. For a regular human, Kain imagined the slow corruption and death of their soul would be both painful and terrifying. For him, it was one more step on the path to damnation he’d been walking since he was a child. There was no apology or shame in the dark voids that were now his eyes. There was only the growing hunger.
“You’re missing all the fun, Kain Hunter.” The voice had a throaty, almost raspy quality, as though the owner had spent the day screaming. Kain quieted his bloodline and looked around. He had come to know that voice well. Loviatar had come to join him on his solitary dune.
Kain eyed the demoness warily as she approached, sitting quietly next to him. He had seen her take many forms over the last several months, ranging from stunning goddess to grotesque hag. Tonight, however, she had chosen a simple, yet not unpleasant look. Kain wondered idly if perhaps her forms reflected her mood. If so, he would say she was either thoughtful, or sad tonight. He supposed the form might engender warmth and compassion from the average person. All it did for Kain was set his teeth on edge.
Not only was the being sitting next to him one of the devils of this world, but she had also been responsible for much of Kain’s suffering during the past months. He had received training from several of the Cardinals, including Lucifer, during that time, but Loviatar had been his most frequent and thorough mentor. Kain had noticed similar pairings with the other Nephiyl and had asked Lucifer about it during one of their conversations.
“All of us have council to offer you,” the Devil had said, “but some of us are more directly suited than others to nurture the bloodlines you have manifested.”
Lucifer offered no more information, and Kain did not ask further questions. He had obviously been paired with the demoness, and she had taken to her duties with gusto. While none of the Cardinals could be considered fair or gentle instructors, Loviatar seemed to relish every opportunity she had to inflict agony on her pupil. And even Kain had to admit her talent for doing exactly that was unparalleled.
There had been many times when Kain was lying bruised and bloody, his very soul on fire, that he had begun to question everything, from the lesson that he was supposed to be absorbing from that particular session to the life choices that had led him to his current predicament. Always, she would push him to the precipice of madness, driving his mind, body, and soul beyond its limits, only to cease her ministrations just before he’d broken. Slowly, he would work his way back to full consciousness and sanity only to find her laughing, eyes alight with vigor that was normally absent from the creature. It was that cold laughter, even more than the pain, that would worm its way into his dreams.
Still, Kain could not deny the results. It was in the throes of intense pain that he would have his greatest epiphanies, not just about his power, but about himself. It was directly due to her unorthodox methods that he had progressed this far on his path. Not having ever been a believer that methods matter as much as results, he could appreciate her efficiency. That being said, the fact that he was the focus of said methods precluded him from ever trusting her enough to relax in her presence.
Kain’s discomfort must have been palpable, because he soon noticed the demoness smirking, no small amount of mischief in her eyes as she slid a little closer to him. The involuntary tensing of his muscles made her laugh outright.
“Relax, Kain Hunter,” her voice was tinged with mirth, and something else. “There will be no pain for you tonight. Unless, of course, you ask for it.”
There was no mistaking it. That last bit was intentionally provocative. Was this monster actually hitting on him? The thought did nothing to soothe his raw nerves. The one concrete fact he had learned about the Cardinals while working with them was that they never did anything without purpose. Either she was trying to lull him into a false sense of security before striking, or she had some other, far more nefarious purpose in mind. Regardless, she would not catch him slipping tonight.
“Only a fool would seek pain, especially from a sadist like you,” Kain quietly responded. It was meant as both an insult and a compliment. He wanted to be clear that he was not going to play her game, but he also saw no reason to be outright hostile. Yet. Loviatar laughed again.
“That is a fair point, but you’d be amazed at how many fools there are in the world.”
“Trust me,” Kain snorted, “I really wouldn’t be.”
Loviatar nodded.
“No, I suppose you wouldn’t be,” she agreed. “You and your friends have demonstrated a ruthless intelligence surpassing our expectations, thus far at least. It is the burden of intelligence to recognize foolish behavior for what it is.”
Kain found that he did not have a response to this. She had framed her argument quite eloquently and he heartily agreed.
“So, tell me then,” her smirk was gone as she continued, regarding him with thought and exasperation. “Why is it that a man such as yourself, a Nephiyl at that, continues to deny the truth of pain? Even after it has taught you so much?”
The question baffled Kain for a moment. He peered into Loviatar’s eyes, searching for some form of deception or hidden agenda, but he could not find it. It seemed that the demoness genuinely did not understand his aversion to pain. He would have laughed out loud had he not sensed the seriousness of the moment. This had to be a trap. If Kain gave an unsatisfactory answer, then she would likely use it as an excuse to torture him. Yes, that was it. This was one of her sadistic little tests. He phrased his words carefully, but truthfully. It was not fear that drove his actions, after all, but rather self-preservation.
“Your lessons have certainly taught me a lot,” he began, watching her movements as he spoke. There was no reason not to be prepared for a strike, after all. “But it was all learned in the attempt to avoid your punishments, not embrace them.”
Kain felt that was a fair assessment of his growth over the last months. Sure, Loviatar had pushed him to grow stronger, and pain was her favorite medium. But it was his attempt to make the pain end that drove him to new heights. Thus, when Loviatar broke out into peals of cold laughter yet again, Kain found the control he normally maintained over his temper slipping. Who was this creature to belittle him for his thoughts? It was not like an immortal had the same perspective.
“Yeah, well I guess you’d have to actually experience real pain to understand what I mean,” Kain sniped, and the laughter was immediately cut off.
The calm and playful version of Loviatar was immediately gone, her form beginning to twist and bend into a horrific-looking hag. She rose to her clawed feet, Kain immediately following, realizing that he had crossed some line he was unaware of.
“Do not speak to me of pain, human!” Loviatar spat the words as though they left a vile taste in her mouth, her voice now reverberating uncomfortably through his soul. “You know nothing of true suffering!”
Kain could feel the intense hatred of the monster in front of him, the very air itself saturated with the rage spilling off of her. He had no doubt that he was either about to die, or at the very least suffer as he never had. Part of him wanted to challenge her, to lash out against her accusation, even if he knew he would lose. But as powerful as he was now, he knew he was still an ant playing in a land of giants when it came to the Cardinals. Some part of his mind registered that fact, and he was able to restrain himself, if only just.
The attack he was braced for never came. The monster stared him down for a few moments more, before withdrawing her aura and fading back into the diminutive woman she’d been before. She plopped back down in the sand, and after a moment, Kain joined her. He was amazed to see unshed tears in her eyes. Just what was going on? The Cardinal of Sin best known for her torment of souls was about to cry? Kain waited until it looked like she had mostly composed herself before he spoke again.
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“That’s it?” he asked, baffled. “You make sport out of torturing me for months on end for no better reason than I’m a slow learner. Now I actually manage to piss you off and…nothing?”
Loviatar snorted and looked up at him with disdain.
“I could flay the skin from your flesh while preventing you from dying, it’s true,” her voice was quieter now, and Kain did not detect any hint of a threat in her words. What she said was a simple fact. “But then you would be useless, the time and resources put into you rendered moot. And the best part is you would not even know why you suffered. I can see on your face that you are still confused.”
Kain could not deny that. The last five minutes or so of interactions with Loviatar had robbed him of his previously conceived notions regarding the Cardinals, and so he waited, hoping she would offer some semblance of an explanation. She did not disappoint him. After a few moments spent staring into the night, she began speaking again.
“I was a mother once. Did you know that Kain Hunter?”
Kain did not even bother to hide his surprise as he shook his head, eyes wide. What kind of monster would it take to mate with a fiend like her?!
“Oh yes,” she continued. “It was millennia ago, and I was not yet a Cardinal. But yes, I had children.”
And Kain saw it. Just as he had glimpsed it in her rage, he saw it now: anguish. Suddenly, Kain understood a little more about the monster before him, and he knew how this story would end. Still, he did not interrupt.
“I was a young immortal at the time, traveling through the fields of my homeland when I decided to rest. I was young and naïve, and thinking myself safe, I fell asleep. My dreams were strange and horrible that day, and I woke suddenly to my first experience with pain. My nightmare was real, you see.”
She paused for a moment, as though speaking of this subject were particularly difficult.
“A wind demon from the north had been following me that day, waiting for his opportunity. While I was sleeping, he ravished me, leaving me broken and pregnant. My father never had real love for me, and upon hearing of the unnatural union and abominations growing in me, I was exiled.
“I will spare you the extraneous details, Nephiyl, but suffice it to say that I learned real suffering from that day forward. There are no words to describe the pain of nine demon spawn growing inside you,” Loviatar’s voice had begun to gain an edge as she continued detailing her story.
“After what felt like an eternity lost in the pits of hell, my children were born. They were…different. No doubt it was that unnatural union that caused them to be so, but I loved them all the same. I nurtured and raised them. They grew into powerful immortals in their own right, not unlike your ancestors. And just like your ancestors, they were feared and cursed because they were different.
“Eventually, they were banished from our home by servants of the Triune at the behest of the humans who feared them so. All but one, who I managed to spirit away to a mortal family who did not fear him. Not long after their banishment, my children were hunted down one by one, and executed.”
Loviatar paused then, allowing Kain some time to take in her story. He watched the demoness quietly as he considered her words. He still did not trust her, of course, but if even a small portion of her story was true, he could understand, at least in part, the rage that drove her. He had never really been able to connect with others on an emotional level, but he had come to learn that losing those emotional connections could drive people to do terrible things. In a way, she had confirmed a theory he had been contemplating for some time: The only thing more dangerous than hate, is love. Odd that such an insight would come from a creature of such spite.
Her story did pose a problem, however. If he decided to believe her, then she really did have firsthand experience of unimaginable pain. Surely, she tried to find ways to escape it, and thus would understand his own aversion. So why was she mocking him? Loviatar did not keep him waiting long for an answer.
“Like you, I sought release from my pain,” her eyes never waivered from his as she continued. “My ravaged body healed, over time, but the pain never truly left me. Sometimes scars run deeper than wounds. What was worse than that was the inescapable anguish. Anguish which came from knowing I was forever ruined, and my children were gone.
“You have done your best to avoid or minimize the pain of my punishments. You have also spent your life closed off from your own emotions, a defense mechanism you learned as a child no doubt because you were incapable of dealing with the damage your parents caused you. I tried the same for centuries before I finally learned the truth that you have failed to grasp.”
Loviatar was smiling at him now, a predatory look in her eyes.
“Do you remember the man from your dreams? The one who your kin tortured all those years ago?”
Indeed, Kain had found it impossible to forget the man. It was this memory more than any others that seemed to resonate with his bloodline. Job. The name came unbidden into his mind. The man who had resisted his ancestors when they had sought to break him.
“Do you know what Job’s epiphany was when he reached the limit of his torment?” Loviatar was licking her lips in anticipation. Kain simply shook his head, curious what this had to do with her crusade.
“‘Man born of woman is of few days and full of trouble.’”
It irked Kain that he once again found himself agreeing with this monster. He had, of course, heard this phrase before. It was quite a bleary outlook on life, but not untrue, at least in Kain’s experience.
“Humans live short, pathetic lives, full of pain and suffering,” she continued, making more sense with every word. “For most of them, their meaningless lives will be spent trying to buck those odds, only to fail in the end. To live is to suffer, and only those few who are willing to embrace the pain will truly experience life.”
Kain could see the fundamental logic in her words as soon as they were spoken. Pain was an integral part of life. While that fact remained truer for some more than others, anyone who attempted to deny it was simply being naïve. For someone like him, that truth rang absolute.
Was that why his power had manifested in such a way? Was his bloodline more complex than he’d initially thought?
“For you, my dear boy, to deny the truth of agony is more than fool’s errand. It is…crippling.”
At some point Kain had allowed the demoness to get even closer to him. He could feel her breath against his ear as she whispered that last word, pausing to allow it to affect him before continuing slowly. He was filled with revulsion by her, but also enticed by the promise in her tone.
“Stop fighting. Embrace the pain. Become one with it, and the world will truly be yours.”
Kain knew he should not trust the ancient monster. He knew deep down in his bones that any offer from the hag who’d been his tormentor would serve only her interests. If he accepted, he would be playing right into her hands, marring his soul even further. Yes, he knew all of these things. He just did not care.
Kain wanted more. He wanted the power that she implied would be his if he just gave in. He wanted the satisfaction that she assured him could only be found on the other side of pain. And most of all, he wanted to feel alive.
“Show me the way,” Kain almost growled into Loviatar’s ear.
A delighted giggle bubbled up from her throat as he felt her hand rise to his chest. He gritted his teeth and groaned loudly as claws sprouted from her fingertips, digging into his flesh. This time, he closed his eyes and let the pain wash over him rather than trying to fight it. He allowed himself to experience every nuance and sensation as the pain hit him.
When he opened his eyes, gone was the simple yet attractive woman who’d been there before. In her place stood Loviatar, the maiden of pain, her eyes alight with malicious pleasure. Her flawless body was scantily covered with form fitting leather armor, and a vicious looking whip hung loosely from her other hand. She was beauty and horror blended together, a succubus here to feed on his suffering. He welcomed it.
**************************************************
Layla was roused from her meditation when the howl of pain reached her ears. A wide grin stretched across her lips as she looked toward the desert where the cry had originated. So, he’d done it then. She had been unsure of his dedication up until that point, which was why she hadn’t bothered to warn him of the possibility of this outcome.
Layla’s domain was death. She’d known that from the moment she’d seen the bones rise in her first vision. It was a part of her now, and she likewise belonged to it. She had learned to hide its mark on her, true, but it was always there, reminding her. Calling to her. She could not speak to all of the bloodlines, the five of them keeping their secrets close, but hers was dangerous.
Every time Layla used her gifts, if they could be called that, she could hear the reaper calling to her. Calling her home. And she could feel her soul answering. Hell was waiting for her, and unlike her companions, she knew it.
It was Freyja who had shown her how to keep the reaper at bay. It was also Freyja who taught her that her connection to death could be used to tap into an even more dangerous force: fate. Oh, her power was nothing like the Völva’s ability. She could not even see the future, much less manipulate its many threads. But, on the rare occasion that she was able to connect to the world around her, she was able to glimpse possibilities.
His fate was the first of the Nephiyl that she had encountered, and it had startled her. According to Freyja they were not bound by the same rules as humans, their fates unsure at best. Perhaps it was the nature of his possible fates, then, that allowed her to glimpse them. Whatever the reason, she had been surprised when she caught a glimpse of his choice.
Layla closed her eyes as both his and her cries rang out against the night. She reached out once again to that veil, remembering to focus on keeping her own soul grounded as she began to pull. Insidious whispers tickled her ears, the voices of the damned revealing their most hideous secrets. She drowned them out, knowing that those whispers were enough to drive anyone insane, and kept pulling.
Slowly, the corpses around her began to twitch as a hint of life reentered their flesh. It had surprised her how willing the Cardinals’ slaves had been to give their lives for her pleasure. When she’d first arrived in the desert, she’d believed her control of death limited to reanimating bodies like the ones littering the ground around her. She’d been so very wrong.
It had taken a tremendous amount of effort, her nose freely bleeding by the end, but she had managed to forcefully rip the life from each of the slaves, one by one. It turned out that using her power in an offensive matter required an intense amount of will, while the summoning she was currently attempting required focus and control. She smiled as she felt the corpses fully animate and stand all around her.
It was not true resurrection, of course. She was not even sure that was possible, at least for her. The rumor was the priest they’d met upon their arrival here had such gifts, but she followed a much darker path. Besides, her thralls had no will, or even consciousness, of their own, and she rather preferred it that way. They existed at her behest. It seemed only fitting they be extensions of her will.
She rose to stand amidst her dead, caressing the face of one. They would do for now, but she was under no illusion they would be enough for what was coming. She needed to be stronger. Much stronger. They all did if they were going to survive. Her sparse visions had shown her precious little, but she could see no possibilities at all beyond the opening of the first seal. She was the mistress of death, and she knew what that implied.
Layla’s gaze drifted out to the desert as her thoughts returned to him. She was both surprised and impressed that he’d taken Loviatar’s offer. What exactly that offer was, she could only imagine, not that she wanted to, of course. Based on what she could see, he’d made the right decision. It still galled her a bit, however. She had hoped he would become her play toy eventually, once he managed to get past that aggravating paranoia. But, it looked like the demon hag had beaten her to the punch. Ah, well. At least her loss might just give them a fighting chance.