Sensations returned, the soft grind under his fingers that he didn’t, no couldn’t recall how long it had been happening. Gentle, soft the touch, but it would be awhile until he could fully processed how long it had been going on. Push, pull, breathe in and out and now taste was returning after awhile, his tongue moved languished, sloth like and dry in the hollow of his mouth. Whatever the taste was relaying to his slow mind, aching and dormant, it was communicating that the flavor wasn’t much better than that of a sloth either. The tracing continued, finger tips on the floor, over and over.
It was so soft, so soothing, pushing this pile here and there. Mindless of the course of the tracing, but it sincerely that there was a repetition there, mantric and recitation, a slow hum helped him know that this was too real and grounded to be a dream, but how visceral of a dream if he were to recall it later. So often, dreams in the past shake and assault one’s rest, especially his after taxing days of tree climbs and epic fits, rest is a welcome reprieve…, but dreams would be there and if he lingered thar be terrors that would find him and shake him from sleeping serenity.
Time passes, breathe in, breathe out for hours and hours. He knew not hunger and wondered (wandered) if he had ever needed to relieve himself, even feared that his uncle would find him there, recovering from a fit and having soiled himself. Shame to be shared with another patriarch, pity and the looking down the nose at a child that needed tender care. To be nursed and kept under thumb and secured to apron string, never to play and be sullied. It was this waking fright that caused him to stir and clutch other senses.
He was warm and comforted by the hellish maw of the furnace all of this time, but hadn’t realized that he had a companion. His body stirred and muscle tensed, he ached in ways unknown to someone so young, though how could he have known that. He may have been shackled to the concrete in this moments of trial against gravity and for a moment he moved his hand away from the unconscious tracings in the dust and ash
“Be careful not to break the lines.”, the voice uttered cautiously, no command in it at all.
Remotely, Abe knew that it was not dear uncle Cain, and although the wraith-like being had many voices indeed, this sound took shape that did not register in his mind of wind and whisper. This voice was new and though Abe fought to even raise his head, he knew for certain that this was a new imaginary fiend.
So Abe looked and forced himself to see. His eyes communicated, in a stumbly shamble sort of slur that he finally saw the profile of the mounds and fissures from his continuous scrawlings in the ash. Ash he has been breathing, ash that coated him nearly crown to toe (though he had laid there so long he wouldn’t have realized…) ash from that ancient beast of a furnace that had consumed so many in the times before…
The newcomer inquired as he roused, “ Young man, Abe, why have you summoned me?”.
Abe again felt that this new voice could have been a play yard partner, but also knew that this was a fresh character to his uncle’s bizarre dwelling. As the childe rose, the odd flaxen-light illuminated the scrawling that Abe absently had created and now saw for the first time from overhead. The symmetry was beautiful and strange, completely alien and ….
Abe looked up and saw the source of the golden light wasn’t coming from the quiet and cold furnace face, but from the small, scaly being sitting astride the ancient utility. Demure, but the aspect of small, scaled thing (though not unpleasant or offensive) definitely communicated a single word to Abe’s groggy mind: demon. It was the ornamental wings, definitely a scar bore as a reminder but utterly useless. Something meaningful, hard-earned once - such a guided halo lost now, but now bore an ugly burden as a reminder of a side chosen, the wrong side of another’s argument. This beautiful thing, twisted but comely, bore the aura still….perhaps as an insult?
It scratched absently at the cowl of horns, small thorns almost as if it were self-conscious, like young human wanting to play on the play yard with another childe while it was fresh out of the church pews in their Sunday’s best, Abe could somehow tell that it desired to belong and blend-in, to be accepted (not rejected again).
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
Abe responded without considering why he spoke the sounds, “I’m sorry, it was an accident. I was ....” He couldn’t remember what brought him back to the furnace, he only knew that he wished to leave its presence now. Abe brokered the next invitation as thoughtlessly as the initial, “do you want to go upstairs with me? Uh, ….what is your name?”
The creature left its perch immediately at the invitation, “Zaxis! I bid thee call me Zaxis and know that I am one of Hell’s hunters. We hunt and kill demons that escape the Abyss. I would happily accompany you for a bit since you have called me to this plane, albeit accidentally.”
“Great! I’m sure my uncle has something to snack on.”
So it was that the innocent childe and the soldier of the infernal shared bread and an apple. The milk curdled before Zaxis could imbibe it, but he refrained from offense noting, “this company is pleasant and it has been some time since I have broken bread with another. If you’re lonesome, I could invite other fallen at another time….I tire and must cross back over soon.”
Perhaps it was the food intoxicating a young, ignorant mortal’s mind after such a drought, crawling in the dust. Perhaps it was the creatures guile, that Zaxis seemed to be happy with the company of the boy, just wanting a companion for awhile, for it had been some time since Zaxis had recalled being called without binds, spoken to while not ordered by some summoner or stage practitioner-charlatan to murder a cheating lover or assault a competitor. This mortal childe seemed innocent of his actions, being accidental and ignorant of welcoming an unwelcomed across a mortal threshold and to BREAK BREAD WITH IT. Indeed, Zaxis was thrilled with sharing idle company. So perhaps it was the common merriment of sharing a snack with a new found fiend when Abe absently replied, “Sure. I don’t care.”
“Splendid.”, and with the mortal’s consent, Zaxis pipped out of the mortal plane.
The demon known to Abe as Zaxis returned with many, five to be exact, in the next week. All perched as Zaxis was first observed, astride the furnace.
Abe had not swept up, had not even let the activity cross his young mind, for what childe would think of the chore? The archaic conduit, the symbol scrawled in the furnace ash remained untouched, the door was open and the table was set. The encounter was just beginning to be written off as a groggy daydream brought on by inhalations of bygone incinerated debris when the planar traveler returned with a troupe.
Zaxis was amongst the perched pentagonal gaggle, easing an inquiry, “ Abe may we have more broken bread together?”.
Abe was excited at his good fortune to have more company in his Uncle’s shadowy abode, though his body was weary, he summoned up the will to stack plate with simple biscuits, cold cuts and fragrant cheese.
So the beasties feasted greedily, the demons that had crossed borders with Zaxis and Abe alike. Cross-hooved and fanged maws a smackin’, the ring of vermin happily made quick work of the mortal meal provided! Belches and commentary ensued, revelry in the dust and merry songs of the Fall, missing the Garden and twisting a Saint’s fate to follow the shadow and live a life of joyous deceit. Abe was happy to have their company, again and again.
The sickles of sun and moon came and went, but Abe’s pantry was full for them (mysteriously indeed). This haven for the craven became the black cat’s mewl, more of the Legion came to feast together with the boy. They shared with Abe that they tried to trod the meal prep alone and on the other side, but they were the Damned - all that was sweet became soured, the morsels that delighted the palate here in good company and cheer became as dust in their eternal penance, such was their plight for following the Morning Star down and down deeper than any pit bought to go. The pit fiends ate a lot and broke furniture beneath their immensity, this was embarrassing for them because they wanted to be invited back.
The wicked brought precious gems, rare times and coins from various nations to remunerate the food closet’s proprietor, the swift childe that offered the circle and greasy meats, but did not chaise their presence. It made the rejected feel something nostalgic and welcoming and the unholy sang praises to their host of hosts.
They offered Abe a contract upon one inky evening, the creatures present reminded the childe that his flesh would not thrive forever and that nothing was promised in existence. The scaley ones brought the scroll, a beautiful thing gift-wrapped in gilded ribbon, and offered eternal damnation to Abe. Penance in the Pit for all of eons, only that he would not meet fire and agony. No, Abe’s would be the triumphant sounds of horn and howl a returning conqueror of mortality with his own place within a pantheon of rogues and the scorned. Abe would never, ever know loneliness or the forgotten again, his presence would be one of significance and perhaps….perhaps they could find a decent meal down in the Below.