When Rodrigo’s eyelids cracked open, the first things he saw were bones of various sizes and shapes beneath him, illuminated by pale blue torchlight streaming in from above. All around, in a circle, were decaying stone walls. He tried to rise to his feet and groaned. Stripped down to his underclothes, his wrists and ankles were shackled to the wall at his back, leaving him with little mobility. But that wasn’t the worst of it. The shackles weren’t simply there to restrain him. He could feel them now, biting into his skin with what felt like rows of tiny fangs, somehow draining his blood more rapidly than he could regenerate. Keeping him weak and the nebulae unresponsive.
“As you can see, inessential movement is not recommended in your predicament. The more you strain against the fetters, the faster they will consume, and the more feeble you will become.” The warning came from overhead.
Rodrigo tilted his head back. Past a rusted iron grate a few meters above, Misery stood with his face cleaned of soot, and his left ear completely healed, looking down at him. He was so disoriented that he hadn’t even recognized the demon’s distinctly resonant voice.
Rodrigo licked his chapped, dry lips before speaking in a rasp, “Where are the others?”
“Leave us,” Misery ordered, and several pairs of armored feet stomped away, slamming a steel door behind them. “Fortunately for you, no one else was killed after you lost consciousness.”
No one else? So Carlito and Leila, two people he had naively sworn to protect, really were dead. He was just reconnecting with Leila, but during their short time together, he had already been reminded of why she remained such a bright spot in his memory. Why even after more than five years apart, he still cared more for her than the myriad of faces he saw daily at school. It was almost scary how much of an effect that girl had always had on him.
And yet, when it came down to it, he had been prepared to kill her if it meant protecting his brother. The thought of Carlito stolen from him, all that wonderful kid’s potential, hopes, and dreams, snuffed out on the whim of this remorseless bastard before him, should have had Rodrigo struggling against his binds and spewing curses until he was breathless. But he didn’t have the vitality for anger, and he had no delusions of snapping chains made to imprison demons.
“Do you know where you are?” Misery asked.
“If this isn’t Hell, then I don’t know what is.”
“The dungeon in Dreadmus’ castle, to be exact. Were I to kill you now, Resent’s soul would drift into another vessel, and the hunt for him would begin anew. This is where you will remain until my necromancers can devise a method of removing and containing him somewhere he can no longer inconvenience me.”
“And then I can die, right?” Rodrigo heard the plea in his own voice that he was too listless to disguise, and supposed it made sense. More so than a world where a defenseless ten-year-old became a casualty of a supernatural war, anyway.
“Is he awake?” Misery asked.
“Are you?” Rodrigo asked. Resent’s silence spoke for itself. “Why does it matter?”
“Because what I have to say will only complicate circumstances further if he overhears. So, I ask once more, is he awake?”
“No.”
“Good. Now, do you recall when I said I had a theory about you? Since bringing you to Hell, it has been all but confirmed.” Misery paused for a long moment, then stifled a laugh. “Apologies. This is all merely so...how do the humans call it? Ironic?”
Rodrigo had no clue what the king was referring to, so he waited.
“Tell me, Rodrigo, since this all began, do you still feel like one of them? A human, crawling along the ground too feeble to put up any true resistance. Or, rather, do you feel powerful and filled with violent impulses that are becoming increasingly difficult to control? Have you started to accept yourself as one of us?”
“If this is the part where you tell me you’re my father—”
“Come now, you are cleverer than that. Or at least you should have the potential to be. You see, King Strife never showed much interest in carnal desires. For all the centuries I knew him, I can count the females he bedded on a single hand. However, shortly before his death, a slave girl caught his fancy. She was fairly intelligent by human standards, and I suppose, pleasing to the eye, yet it still surprised me when he allowed that young woman to return to the human world, pregnant with his progeny. And, you, resemble her greatly.”
Rodrigo was suddenly feeling a bit more energized. He wanted to believe he was being manipulated, but what would the king have to gain by telling such a lie? His mind scrounged for something, anything, to disprove Misery’s claim, but all he could find were reasons that supported it. “So, you’re saying Heinrik came to me because I’m...”
“Because you are half-demon, half-human. In a word, cambion. That and Resent’s agnate brother.”
“Shouldn’t you want to kill me even more, then?” Rodrigo asked, self-preservation giving way to bewilderment.
“With Strife’s blood coursing through your veins, you are rightfully royalty, yet the narrow-minded aristocracy would never allow a half-breed to rule, and therefore you are of no threat to me. Though I failed with Resent, I will train you and mold you into something your father could be proud of. It is his lineage, not you, that I wish to keep alive.”
Rodrigo kept his face neutral, biting back the humorless laugh that wanted to burst out at the ridiculousness of the idea. Was it carelessness, a mind-blowing amount of arrogance, or a warped understanding of human nature? Maybe for a being who had lived for centuries, a bond a decade old was like the blink of an eye, and the one responsible for severing it should be easily forgiven.
If Misery wanted to grant him the opportunity and skill to avenge his brother, then so be it. He would learn from the king, as Resent had, and follow his every command. No matter how cruel, or degrading. No matter how horrified and ashamed Carlito would be to see such atrocities committed for his sake. His fealty to the king would never be in doubt, the most loyal pawn, the right-hand man...until years, or even decades from now, when he had the strength to inflict twice as much pain and fear as Carlito had died in. Rodrigo would prolong Misery’s suffering for every life he took in his name, and then, finally, he would carve his still-beating heart out of his armor.
“Yes, clever, indeed. So few of mankind grasps the value of quiet,” Misery said, and from his knowing smirk, Rodrigo knew his revenge fantasy would never come to fruition. “Of course, I would never repeat the mistake with you I made with Adena. As she went to great lengths to prove, that would be hazardous to my health. No, I think when the necromancers go rooting through you to extract Resent’s soul, it should be simple enough for them to...remedy your memories. I shall have them discard your human life, and imbue, not merely obedience, but an undying devotion to me, as I had for your father.”
Rodrigo’s throat felt like it was closing, and for the first time since waking up, he was afraid. There was a small, selfish part of him that wouldn’t object to a mind-wipe. To losing the good, the bad, every experience that made him the person he was, if only to escape the endless torment of Carlito’s last moments. The echo of Jezebeth’s dying cackle in his body. But that would be like denying his brother had existed at all. An unacceptable betrayal to Carlito, and a fate worse than death for himself.
“You know, your majesty, I would have thought someone slaughtering millions over the death of a single demon would know better. No amount of brainwashing bullshit is going to make me your puppet, because what you stood by and let that psychotic bitch do? It’s seared into my retinas. The sound of her laughing as he died, unaware I was even there with him, is pounding in my head. And the smell of his blood on me stands out from every other irredeemable piece of trash, like you, that deserved it.” Rodrigo’s words were strangled, his nails digging into his palms hard enough to break the skin. Rage, more suffocating than the heat in this pit, punched through him, overpowering his fear, exhaustion, and self-loathing. “So don’t mistake our having a civil conversation while I’m chained up as me turning the other cheek. Because mark my words, the first chance I get, I will wipe you the fuck out.”
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Rodrigo wasn’t sure what sort of reaction he wanted or expected from the king. Disappointment, anger, maybe even the slightest hint of apprehension? But instead, Misery studied him with a perplexed frown. “Does your wrath cloud your sense, or do you truly believe I have done all I have for vengeance alone?” At Rodrigo’s uncomprehending expression, Misery shook his head and walked out of sight. “Flanked by Hell’s prince and its greatest living assassin, two founts of knowledge of our world, yet neither chose to enlighten you.”
It was like he hadn’t heard beyond Rodrigo’s first sentence. “Are you deaf? We’re past the point where I give a shit about your mot—”
“Enough infantile bluster!” As a lever creaked nearby, and the grate above Rodrigo’s head parted, both halves sliding inward, he grew quiet. When Misery reappeared, he stepped over the edge of the pit and dove in. The ground trembled as he landed mere feet away from Rodrigo, the bones of the dead fragmenting under the soles of his sabatons. As Misery gripped the red-wrapped hilt of the sword on his back, Rodrigo felt fear worm its way past his fury. Down to his skivvies, chained to the wall and unable to even stand, he was like a penned pig waiting for the butcher. Was the king taking him at his word and executing him to save himself a future threat?
In a single motion, Misery ripped his sword free of its sheath and slashed downward. If Rodrigo hadn’t heard the clank of steel striking steel, he might have thought he was already dead, and his mind was just seconds behind. But, no, for whatever reason, Misery had cut the chains from the wall, freeing him. Before Rodrigo knew what he was doing, he was moving, slamming the nebulae against the ground, desperate to escape the pit. He’d only risen a few feet in the air when Misery yanked him back down to earth by the remnants of the chains still dangling around his wrists. He landed on his feet with a grunt, the impact surging through his legs.
“Allow me to alleviate your ignorance,” Misery said, sheathing his sword. Then, while still holding Rodrigo’s chains in his fist, he used the index finger of his other hand to touch the obsidian gem left of the crown’s center horn. Their surroundings changed abruptly. They were in a large, oval-shaped room, standing over the symbol of the tri-horned demon that seemed to be plastered on everyone from Dreadmus’ army like some sort of deity.
“What just happened?” Rodrigo demanded.
“To return to the throne room at will is the privilege of the one who wears the crown. Now, come,” Misery said, pulling him along by his chains. As the king led Rodrigo past the skull throne, and through a doorway to its right, he considered his options. The chains had stopped draining him after Misery had cut them and he could feel his strength slowly returning. Maybe he could slice through the chains with the nebulae while Misery’s back was to him. But then what? He didn’t know the first thing about the castle’s layout. He could escape Misery only to run into some guards who saw no reason to keep him alive. Still, going down fighting was better than the alternative.
As Misery dragged him up a flight of spiral steps and into the open air of the roof, the first thing Rodrigo noticed was the heat. Bad as it had been in the pit, it was easily over 100 degrees Fahrenheit up here. He’d seen the red sky in Resent’s memories before, but what he saw now, as he peered over the parapet, shocked him to the point that it halted his half-baked escape plan of parachuting off the roof. “Is that...a moon?” It was a blood red sphere hanging in the distant sky. He wasn’t exactly on the road to a theology degree, but he’d never heard anything about Hell having a moon. Were they on another planet? Mars?
“Not a moon. Your moon. Even in your time it is reddening with rust, and with the changes to the atmosphere and the constant fires ravaging this land, the sky has long since come to match.”
Rodrigo blinked, looked back at Misery to search his face for some sign that he was lying. “My time? What are you saying?”
“Has it never struck you as odd how some of the most prominent demonic races align so perfectly with how you humans have always envisioned us? Imps, ogres, and the like, with their odious countenances, conform so much better to your simplistic views of evil than a mere man who rapes and carves up children for sport. This is because true demons do not exist. Eons ago, as the earth devolved into chaos and infighting, the artificial intelligence you were all so fascinated by at the time failed to advance quickly enough to meet the ever-changing demands of warfare. And so, to mitigate the loss of human life, a new breed of soldier was engineered.”
Rodrigo was beginning to understand, but all he could do was gape stupidly.
“Beings that were powerful, long-lived, and that their arrival on a battlefield would inspire such dread, mortal soldiers would loath to confront them. In the demons, humanity created a superior life form to fight their battles, but were wise enough to embed unwavering deference into their genetics. That first generation of demons were simpler creatures, both in intellect and ability, and would have killed themselves if one of their creators requested it.”
“Wait. But diavoliks. They’re...you’re nearly identical to humans.”
Misery smiled. “Yes. Always overreaching, some scientist or the other likely decided to be adventurous and breed with one of their pet demons. Thus, the tri-horned demon, the first diavolik, and technically a purer cambion than you, was born. To not have killed him outright, the humans must have seen this as the next step in evolution, and in a sense, they were correct. But because of his human half, the tri-horned demon lacked the compulsion for obedience his fellow demons were ingrained with, while also having the ability to command them. He led the demons against their masters, all while humanity continued to war with itself and destroy the planet around them. Eventually, he was victorious, eradicating the majority of humanity and enslaving the survivors, as they once did us. And the tri-horned demon, the alleged progenitor of your bloodline, became the first ruler of this war-torn earth we call Hell.”
Rodrigo’s head was throbbing. He would have massaged it if his hands weren’t bound. “So, you’re saying Hell is actually just my world’s future?”
“In a sense. But that implies you live in the present. You see, your world did not even exist until a breed of demon, all but extinct now, opened portals that led into the past of ours.”
“What was the point in that if you weren’t going to fix what went wrong? Couldn’t you have stopped this place from becoming Hell?”
“You misunderstand. Essentially, your world is merely a ghost of ours. Nothing that happens there impacts our present. One of your party questioned how I could justify my actions. Everyone you know and love, as well as every human currently dying at the hands of my army? Your grief and empathy is wasted on them, as they have all been dead for countless millennia.”
The weight of those words hit Rodrigo hard enough to make him stagger. Was knowing this why Resent and Adena were so indifferent to death? Were they actually trying to protect him and the others by keeping the truth from them, or did they just not want to deal with the fallout?
“And as for why those portals were opened? It was long before my time, but the answer should be obvious,” Misery said, thrusting a gauntlet-covered hand out to their surroundings. “This oppressive heat on a winter night. This land, largely barren for as far as the eye can see. Droves and droves of monsters who can think of little beyond violence. Humans all but destroyed this world, birthing us into it just in time for us to feed on the scraps. In that case, successors to humanity that we are, why are we not entitled to enjoy the earth at its zenith? Be it years or decades into your future, the self-destruction of their species is imminent. Why then should I stand by and allow them to take the planet down with them a second time?”
Rodrigo’s dwindling anger began to rise, as he glared up into Misery’s white eyes. “So, what? You’re telling me my brother died over crimes the human race hasn’t even committed yet, while you’re some kind of tragic hero trying to save the world from our selfishness? Give me a goddamned break! Apparently your army hasn’t gotten the memo, either, because they’re out there burning and destroying everything in sight.”
“True. My goals are beyond the understanding of some. Many, having adapted to the harshness of this world, have no interest in yours beyond as a target for pillage and destruction. But the reality is, there is little the millions of demons I sent there could do that will damage the earth as severely as the billions of humans did themselves during the 21st century of your calendar.”
“Why tell me any of this? It doesn’t change a thing,” Rodrigo said, looking away, because it changed everything. In the increasingly unlikely event of Misery’s death, the demons had a legitimate grudge against humankind and would never stop coming. Even if by some miracle they did, without intervention, humanity was as likely to destroy themselves within his lifetime.
“You may have lived alongside them, yet you were conceived in this very castle, and our blood runs through your veins. So, perhaps, if anyone, I imagined you might understand. I hoped you would be capable of looking beyond your animus for me and at the larger scope, like I know your father would have. Unfortunately, you are so disappointingly...human.”
The blow to Rodrigo’s head came so fast and suddenly that he was on the ground bleeding before the pain even reached him.
Seeing the darkness of unconsciousness was closing in on Rodrigo, Misery released the chains, letting them rattle to the stonework at his feet. “But do not fret. I shall salvage your world, even if I must stamp out every last phantom of man on it to do so.”