Indenuel didn’t know when he fell asleep, just that he dreaded it. He knew what he had done. The marks were still on his chest, a deep red color. He was so exhausted, but he was terrified of going to sleep. Instead, he spent his time glaring at the ceiling, feeling all the anger and hate pound into him like a wave, over and over again. He didn’t care what Nathaniel said. He had slaughtered thousands of people with the corrupted power. How could he possibly go to heaven now?
“Let’s talk about that.” Indenuel looked over to see Garen had materialized in the cell. Indenuel glared at him but said nothing. There was nothing he could say, since the mask was on his face. “I hate to see you like this. Don’t you? Don’t you hate to see how much those High Elders won? World peace? World power? They still have the ability to make men murder.”
Indenuel closed his eyes, pressing his fingernails against his arm. He was still awake. He could still feel the twinge of pain from his nails digging into his flesh.
“Would you like to go somewhere to talk? Seeing as the High Elders left you in a state where you can’t,” Garen said, his hand going through the mask on Indenuel’s face. Indenuel gave him a mistrustful look, and the devil smiled in return. “I know. I can’t promise you anything, because I’m the devil. You can’t believe anything I say. But see, isn’t that what you crave? Consistency? You know I am untrustworthy. You know I’m a liar. Therefore, you can trust that I have my own plans to fulfil, and you know what they are. You know what I crave more than anything, and you also know I will never take your soul unless you give it to me.” Indenuel gave him another mistrustful look before turning away. He promised Tolomon and Nathaniel he wouldn’t sell his soul. There was nothing the devil could say to him to convince him. Inessa was already gone. His one opportunity that actually tempted him was lost. “I know you have questions for me. Let me take you to a place where you can ask them.”
Indenuel hesitated before cracking an eye open to see Tolomon at the door, guarding it as always. Indenuel closed his eyes again and gave a tiny nod. Garen smiled as he pulled out two black knives before thrusting them into Indenuel’s temples, tearing his soul out of his body.
Indenuel screamed in pain before forcing the knives out of his temples. “What the hell!”
“See,” Garen said, pulling Indenuel’s spirit out the rest of the way. “You can move, you can talk.” Indenuel tried to touch his chest, but he couldn’t sense it. He floated above his body, seeing it below on the table covered in a black shield, looking like he was asleep.
“What is that?” Indenuel asked, not expecting the devil to answer.
“To keep my demons from entering you,” Garen said. “They might still, but they’d have my wrath to deal with.”
Indenuel took a few steps away. In this state, it seemed like he and Garen had bodies, but he knew it was different. This was like the dream state, but still being in the world. Tolomon was still by the door, and Indenuel could plainly see his shield a glimmering golden color.
“You will not get my soul,” Indenuel said. “I’m going to say that now.”
Garen smiled. “I am bound by the laws of the universe to never take what isn’t rightfully given me.”
“The Day of the Devil proved otherwise,” Indenuel said, eyes narrowing.
“I didn’t take. I managed to convince you to give yourself up,” Garen said.
Indenuel frowned, trying to remember their conversation. “Convinced me to give up my body to you?”
“Yes. I did,” Garen said. “But let’s be truthful with each other. It is you that wants something from me. I am simply here to give it to you.”
Indenuel looked away, again seeing his body chained up like it was. He felt disgusted by the whole idea. He shouldn’t be talking with the devil, but he knew he was already bound for hell, no matter what Nathaniel said.
“I’ve studied your entire life,” Garen said as they floated out of the dungeon. “Saw how the town treated you. I understand why you wanted to murder everyone. Not Nathaniel.”
“If I had gone through with it, Matteo and the twins would have died too.”
“Congratulations. You saved a village to later kill an entire army,” Garen said with little emotion in his voice. He waved a hand, and the screams erupted around them. Indenuel gasped as he tried to cover his ears, but it didn’t work. Not until Garen waved his hand again. “There are so many soldiers waiting to let you know exactly how much suffering you caused. Because you already know deep down, you’re going to hell.”
Indenuel turned away and noticed they were floating over Santollia. He could see the entire continent, saw a picture of the world no one would ever see. He breathed uneasily at the height. “I don’t trust you. I never have. I need to kill the High Elders, but I can’t do it your way.”
Garen smiled. “Ah, Indenuel. You are going to enjoy Hell.”
“What do you mean? People don’t enjoy Hell,” Indenuel asked.
“Don’t you ever wonder why it was created? The Gods wanted to offer love and forgiveness to anyone and everyone,” Garen said, his voice turning angry. “Let them come to a world, introduce mortality, and watch as people would literally tear each other’s throats out, and then usher them into heaven because of a few good deeds. It was my followers and I that pointed out how unfair it all was. You cannot let dictators go into heaven. You cannot let murders simply get a slap on the wrist then live in paradise. They don’t belong there, they belong in Hell, where they are reminded for the rest of eternity exactly what kind of horrible people they are. Mercy and forgiveness? Does Navir deserve something like that?” Indenuel said nothing. It made him uncomfortable to believe what Garen was saying. “Does Fadrique? Dalius? Cristoval? Martin? After all the women they slept with, after the lives they ruined? After your life they ruined? Do you think they deserve to celebrate in heaven?”
“No,” Indenuel muttered.
“So why wait?” Garen asked, creeping closer. “Why let them continue their hell-filled lives, causing more pain and suffering? Why not kill them all now so I can have my demons do their work?”
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Indenuel curled his fist. “I can do it without selling my soul.”
“You really think you can? Chained up on the table as you are? Tolomon following your every move? You’ve felt the High Elders powers. They are too strong for you to take on as you are.”
“I promised Tolomon and Nathaniel I wouldn’t,” Indenuel said.
“If you hadn’t promised, would you?” Garen asked.
Indenuel hesitated long enough for Garen to smile. “No.” He was spurred on by the smile on the devil’s face. “No, I wouldn’t.”
Garen shook his head, still smiling. “Do you really think you’re the kind of man who keeps his promises?” Indenuel winced, looking away because he was embarrassed at the reaction he gave. “Can I show you something? I’ve been watching all of human history, and I think you’ll understand better what I mean when you see this.”
Indenuel frowned. “You have the power to show me visions?”
“If the dead Gods can, why can’t I?” Garen asked. “We just need to pick up your special little friend first.”
They shifted through realms before they came to a daytime scene. He saw two figures below, and his heart froze in shock.
It was him. He was seeing his past self with the prophet of the fifth age as they watched Mela’s prophecy of the past. It seemed so long ago now.
The past Indenuel turned to the prophet and cocked an eyebrow. Past Indenuel seemed so young. Full of innocence. Indenuel almost wanted to protect him. “Really? You’ve met her?”
The prophet shrugged. “High Elder Martin’s one and only concubine, right?”
“Yes.”
“The poor woman,” the prophet mumbled as past Indenuel focused on Mela. “A lonely girl that suffered far too much in her life.”
Indenuel frowned, turning ever so slightly to Garen. “I don’t remember him saying that.”
“It is as I told you. The translators only cycle through what they want you to hear,” the prophet said.
Indenuel was confused until the prophet turned, his eyes a blazing golden color. Indenuel gasped and took a step back as the prophet looked at him. “Hello again, Indenuel.”
His mouth dropped open before he looked at his past self, now frozen in time. “I… I don’t understand.”
“Time is a tricky thing. Especially in this realm,” the prophet said.
“So… so you’re meeting me again? In this time? Does it change what I see there?”
“No. Nothing will change.” The prophet snapped his fingers in front of the past Indenuel, frozen in time. “I will continue to see and learn what this new vision is meant for me, and then continue this other vision.”
Indenuel was starting to get a headache. “You are having a vision within a vision? And you never told me?”
“I won’t, now that you just told me I didn’t,” the prophet said.
The headache worsened. The prophet studied Garen, a pronounced frown on his face. “Garen,” he said as though he was forced to acknowledge him. “Never a pleasure, as always.”
“Hello Simon,” Garen said, the hate equal in his voice before moving his fingers. The prophet, Simon, had his arms instantly pinned behind him and slid closer to Garen. Indenuel’s past self disappeared and Simon’s eyes returned to their normal brown color.
“You told me I shouldn’t learn your name,” Indenuel said.
Simon shrugged. “If the translator let that through, then it doesn’t make a difference that you know now.”
Indenuel rubbed his head, trying to ease the pain away. Simon struggled with the invisible bonds keeping his hands behind him. “You and I both know I can’t hurt you. Why the pretense?”
Garen moved his fingers again and Simon was lifted off his feet before he was turned upside down. “I just really, really hate you.”
Simon smiled, unperturbed about the position he was in. “A compliment, thank you.”
Garen returned the smile. “Don’t you want to ask me how your minister friend is doing in hell? I mean, was anyone in your time shocked when a deeply devoted religious man turned out to be a pedophile?"
Simon’s eyes narrowed. “We both know that’s a lie.”
“Honestly, what matters most is everyone else in the world thinks he’s a disgusting religious pedophile, just so people avoid your cult like the plague it is.”
Simon smiled, his hands twitching behind him. “I have to ask, Garen. Do you ever regret killing my minister friend that soon? Imagine what you could have had if you let him live longer.” Garen just smirked as he released him. Simon fell only a little before his body righted itself again. “Get to the point. I can only stand being around you for so long,” Simon said.
“You’re right. Indenuel, I assume you’ve already met Simon.”
Indenuel nodded, folding his arms. “Twice now.”
Simon understood what that meant. “Inessa’s already been kidnapped, then?”
“Inessa’s dead,” Indenuel said, his voice dark. “Yesterday a mob-” Indenuel couldn’t finish. He realized he didn’t have to. Simon, it seemed, already knew. Their first meeting he knew, and he said nothing to warn him.
“I’m sorry.” He seemed sincere, but it still flared up an anger inside Indenuel that was dangerous.
“Why didn’t you warn me?” Indenuel asked.
Simon sighed. “I did, but the translation took it out. To travel in time is not to mess with what has already happened. It’s to glimpse into the past to gain a deeper understanding.”
“And when you see the future? Aren’t you supposed to warn people to stop the calamity from happening?”
“It won’t matter. I can tell you everything that happens for the next thousand years, and it won’t change a thing.”
Indenuel shook his head. “I could have changed it.”
“No, Indenuel. You don’t have that power. Not even Garen has it.”
Garen shook his head. “I have that power.”
“No, you don’t,” Simon said.
“I’ll do it right now. I’ll change time.” Garen closed his eyes, and Indenuel felt a vibration deep in his soul. Whatever strange realm they were in was covered in blackness before the darkness threw itself back inside Garen. Indenuel and Simon stumbled before righting themselves. “There. I did it.”
Simon frowned. “Did what?”
Garen simply smiled. “Didn’t you ever wonder why your town got so dark? The demons. The possessions? Remember how bleak that Day of the Devil was? Did you wonder why I went for three defenseless little girls?”
Simon’s face dropped. “But… but that already happened.”
Garen pointed around them. “Because I just made it happen.”
Simon narrowed his eyes. “The trouble with being a liar is I can never tell when you’re telling the truth. I don’t believe you changed time.”
“But it all makes sense now, doesn’t it? The suspicion you had in your later years that I targeted your family and your town specifically because of who you were. Does it bring you comfort you were right? All those dark days were because I targeted you. It is because I hate you with every fiber of my being.”
Simon glared. “It’s over and done. That was almost two decades ago, and you lost.”
“Oh, I still enjoy haunting your sister’s nightmares, decades later,” Garen said. “Getting into her head, letting her remember how vulnerable she was. How she gave in so quickly. She was so young. So impressionable.” Indenuel winced, glancing at Simon who was fuming with anger. “Do you want to know what it was like for me to be in your sister’s body? Controlling her. Listening to her soul scream as I forced her to-”
Simon lifted a hand. “Enough, Garen. I know why you’re doing this.”
“Oh, do you?” Garen asked.
Simon began speaking, but his words were cut off. The translators weren’t letting it through. Indenuel frowned, watching Simon gesturing at Garen, then at Indenuel, speaking something that looked as though it was long on his mind, struggling to keep his anger in check.
Garen smirked, then straightened. “The usual agreement, then?”
Simon’s shoulders slumped, and he rubbed the bridge of his nose. “The usual agreement. Show us what you have, then give me fifteen minutes alone with Indenuel.”
Garen’s smirk grew until the hairs on the back of Indenuel’s neck stood straight up. “You can certainly try to change his mind.”
“Change my mind from what?” Indenuel asked.
Simon said nothing, though with the anger disappearing from his eyes, he looked at Indenuel with both nerves as well as compassion. Simon didn’t need to say. Indenuel knew, deep in his soul, that future him had done it. The despicable deed that would make a prophet so weary of him.
Garen disappeared and the world brightened behind him.