Martin was in such a deep state of meditation that he hardly heard Nathaniel walking into his office.

“We need to go, Father. Now,” Nathaniel said, quiet but urgent.

Martin cracked an eye open as his son stood there, holding a letter. “What’s this about?”

“Indenuel. It’s the Day of the Devil, and he hasn’t left his room. He’s been troubled all morning. Tolomon can’t handle it anymore and needs our help.”

Martin skimmed through the note. “That is something for Dalius to take care of.”

“Tolomon has tried.” Nathaniel pointed toward the end of the letter. “Dalius is too sick and suggested you.”

Martin finished skimming the letter. “So he has.”

“I’m worried about both of them,” Nathaniel said.

He stood up. “I can try and take away some of the anxiety, but there isn’t much more I can do. Day of the Devil is more Dalius’ thing. It’s such a pity he fell so sick.”

“Right,” Nathaniel said, thinking something over in his mind. “I’m coming with you. I think I can help.”

Martin nodded. “Alright. Let’s get the carriage ready.”

Nathaniel was already out the door.

***

Tolomon’s pacing was the only physical sound Indenuel heard, and it was so faint compared to the shrieks and cries of the spiritual sounds. He kept his eyes closed, terrified to look.

We’re going to do this to you for eternity

You deserve it, you murderer

Have your peace in this life, because you won’t get it in the next.

The Devil is creating a special place just for you in Hell.

The screaming and the jeering had been so loud for so long he forgot what it was like to have stillness and quiet. How did Cristoval just get used to this?

“Indenuel?”

Nathaniel? What was he doing here? Indenuel opened his eyes to see but regretted it. Nathaniel was there, yes, but so were thousands of demons, still swarming and sneering, their contorted faces laughing and mocking. Their black auras sucking all the light from them, and their black eyes glowed. He never saw so many demons in his life. Granted, he’d also never murdered with corrupted pain, either.

Indenuel shuddered, curling himself deeper into a ball, whimpering.

“How long has he been like this?” Martin asked.

Indenuel’s heart dropped. Martin was here too. He couldn’t be here.

“Since last night,” Tolomon said. “He refused help. I’m breaking one of my oaths even inviting you over here.”

“He’s refused help?” Martin asked as he sat on the bed.

Indenuel instinctively covered his temples. “Don’t! You’re not needed here, Martin. Go away!”

“My dear boy, I cannot leave you in this state. You are scaring your staff, and you are scaring Tolomon. You need help.”

“I’m fine!” Indenuel screamed over the shrieks of the demons. “Once the Day of the… the Day of the Devil is done it will… it will all go away!”

“Indenuel-” Martin said.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“It’s what happens every year! They always leave me alone once it’s done! I’ll be fine tomorrow!”

“Nathaniel, Tolomon, do whatever you can to get him into the carriage. We must take him to the Cathedral. That holy place will not have as many demons tormenting him.”

Indenuel shook his head. “They’re everywhere. They’re everywhere. They’ll be at the Cathedral too!” He sensed Tolomon near before he was lifted off the bed. He didn’t dare open his eyes to check. “Leave me alone, please. I’ll be better tomorrow. I promise.”

“Quiet, you stubborn ass,” Tolomon said as they walked out of his room.

“It’s not even dinnertime. Are you certain we can get him into the Cathedral without others seeing him? This could cause quite a stir,” he heard Nathaniel say over the screams and laughter of the demons that followed him, as the others in the hallways joined.

“We will have the carriage pull around the back way. I have the key to the High Elder’s meditation room. In this emergency situation, you both will be allowed in,” Martin said.

Indenuel was exhausted. He just wanted to sleep. He moved his hands from covering his temples to covering his ears, still not daring to open his eyes. He didn’t want to see the demons in the city.

The carriage moved and swayed as it pulled forward, and Indenuel couldn’t place how he got there. Tolomon was still holding him like a child. Fingers touched his temples and he jerked away.

“No! No, don’t touch me!” Indenuel said.

Tolomon pinned Indenuel’s hands to his side as Nathaniel steadied his head. “Let my father heal you.”

Indenuel couldn’t fight. He was too exhausted. Martin touched his temples and a wave of warmth washed over him. The demons shrieked, not in delight, but in terror as they hissed and grew distant. Indenuel gasped, his eyes snapped open. The demons retreated from the carriage, snarling and clawing at him as they ran away from the light in the carriage.

“My dear boy,” Martin whispered, his eyes still closed, fingers still at his temples. “How long have you suffered like this?”

Indenuel said nothing, taking slow and steady breaths. He was terrified of what Martin would do. Of what he might figure out. The fatigue from feeling the demon’s tricks, the anxiety that was always at the front of his mind, it ebbed away, and for the first time since the start of this cursed day, Indenuel found himself breathing easily. He basked in the warmth of the healing power, his muscles relaxed. The exhaustion from having no sleep for well over a day and a half came back to him. There was still a ringing in his ears from hearing the screaming and shrieking for so long.

Martin released him, and Indenuel opened his eyes. The concern was there in Martin’s face, and Indenuel waited for him to figure it out.

Tolomon helped him sit up, and he braced himself against the wall of the carriage, his sweat-soaked dark shirt feeling cold.

“In my study I have a cot for those who need rest and healing,” Martin said quietly. “I’ll let you sleep there for today. You look dead on your feet.”

Indenuel nodded, not daring to say anything. With the healing gone, the demons began to creep back. He heard their screams getting louder. Indenuel glanced out the window to see one headed straight for the carriage window, its black aura tendrils clawing through to get to him. Indenuel gasped, backing away from the window into Tolomon, reaching out for anything and grabbing Nathaniel’s hand.

“It’s alright. We’re almost there,” Nathaniel said.

Indenuel closed his eyes, curling up into himself again, doing everything he could not to cry in front of three grown men.

The carriage moved to the back of the Cathedral and Martin led the way. Tolomon and Nathaniel were on either side of him, leading him into the room because he kept his eyes closed. The screams and laughter filled the city. He didn’t want to see them.

Tolomon and Nathaniel lead him into the meditation room and Martin closed the door, the screams remaining outside. Indenuel cracked an eye open to see there was nothing in the meditation room. He let out a breath and let Nathaniel and Tolomon lead him into the worship hall. Indenuel heard it before he saw it. He knew that sound by now. The sound of a swarm, the way they groan and moan as they feed the pain and anguish off each other. The door opened and Tolomon and Nathaniel dragged him reluctantly into the worship hall. Most of the worship hall was free of demons, but the throne reserved for the Savior was one, pulsating black mass.

“This way,” Martin said, heading toward his office.

His chest tightened, tears streaming down his face. The Cathedral wasn’t safe. It wasn’t clear. A primal fear hit his chest the second he saw the mass. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t talk. Everything inside him told him to run, and the fear told him to keep looking at it. He didn’t dare do anything to bring attention to himself with that many demons.

“Indenuel?” Tolomon asked.

At the sound of his name, the swarm stopped. Instead of moaning and crying, they began to scream and laugh as they rushed out of the Cathedral. The mass of demons uncovered someone who looked like a man, yet he had a black aura around him. He had one of his legs dangling over the armchair of the throne, relaxing in the seat meant for the Savior of the world. His face was uncovered to reveal blue eyes, and Indenuel’s knees gave out. Tolomon and Nathaniel held on to him tighter to keep him standing.

“Garen?” Indenuel asked.

Martin, who had been oblivious to what was going on, stopped dead in his tracks, then turned, a look of horror on his face. “How do you know that name?”

Indenuel kept an eye on Garen, barely glancing in Martin’s direction. “How… how do you know Garen’s name?”

“Do not speak the name of the devil,” Martin said, the horror still plain on his face. “Especially on his day."