A Rejected Prophecy

A seemingly endless field of golden wheat swayed in the wind. The breeze did nothing to cool the stalks. They shimmered in the heat of the sun like a sea of.....plants. There was no wind. There was no sun. They were figments of a dead imagination.

The minds of humans, the beliefs of humans, even when they are dead, are powerful things. The human mind creates lies to protect itself from reality. They start off small, when children are young. They are trained to believe that when they are good, a fat man breaks into their house and leaves them things. Adults know that isn’t true, but children believe the lie. They train themselves to believe in little lies when they are young, so that they may believe in bigger ones when they are older. They believe in truth and justice, but in the entire universe, there cannot be found a single atom of either. They have been taught to believe lies so well, that they no longer believe, they now know. When they die, they know that there will be a field of gold that all souls will go to called Elysium. They don’t just believe in it, they know it. And so, when a human dies, that’s what happens. They go to the fields. And even though they are dead, their mind knows that they’re in a field, so it blocks out the fact that, in all reality, they’re just milling around aimlessly in a waiting room in Hell.

Demon minds, and in fact, all minds that are not human, cannot be told to believe so easily. Cats know that when they die, that’s it, they’re dead; just as dogs know that if they ever see a fat man breaking into the house in the middle of the night, they’re supposed to bite him in the trousers, not expect the man to pull out a sack of dollies.

Despite the ability to not believe in anything untrue, many creatures still have the inexplicable urge to try. Maybe it is the fact that ignorance is bliss, or maybe they’re just curious. Whatever the reason, most demons have the innate need to want to believe in lies as humans believe in lies. This was why a young demon boy was currently sitting cross legged on dirty, smudged, waiting room floor, hands clasped in front of his chest, teeth gritted hard in his mouth and trying for all his worth, to imagine himself sitting in a field of farm product.

He was doing this, being fully aware, that it would not be successful, and that when he opened his eyes, he would still be sitting on a waiting room floor. He was doing it, because trying made his head hurt, and when his head hurt, he was less inclined to think about the problems at hand.

Three days ago. Shaen would’ve killed to go back three days ago. Three days ago, Shaen was happy. He was a fledgling, showing promise in his skills, despite his current miscreant behavior. Among his youthful peers he was treated nearly as a lord, being second in command of the largest, most devious gang (under the age of 200, of course) in all of Pandemonium. He was best friends with, and the most trusted confidant of, Thelonius himself. Thelonius, the demon-boy wonder who would one day succeed the ruler of Hell and take his place on the throne. But that was three days ago. That was before Kirin, the bookworm and brains of the gang, hand unearthed a troubling message. It was a prophecy, made by Hydran’s father himself, telling of who would be his son’s murderer, and who would take his place on the throne. Everyone knew it would be Thelonius, he was the only option, the only possibility. He already ruled over his fellow fledglings like a god, and even the adults could only imagine what he could do when he was grown.

Thelonius was already starting to mature. He was taller than everyone in his gang, and now he could almost take on the nameless, giant snake demon that lived down the hill. His claws and fangs were razors, his eyes piercing and deadly. His smile was seeped in a malice that made even Shaen shudder. He was even growing facial hair; it came in naturally for demons in a certain shape. Theo’s would be a neat, pointed goatee, it appeared. His aura was already seething with a magnetism that made all in contact with it want to obey him. Want to please him. Want him to be their master.

But, when Kirin called Shaen to his library (it wasn’t technically Kirin’s library, but considering that most demons do not spend much time reading, whereas Kirin appeared to have been born to pour over text, he had come, quietly and without resistance, it’s unofficial owner. There are people like this all across the multi-universe. From the instant they are born they are drawn to copious numbers of books, high shelves and silence. And while, they themselves never own the building, they somehow lay claim to any place which shelters literature. They are also born with an innate hatred for anyone who bends the cover.) it was a message for him that he held alone. In a message that made Shaen want to curl into a ball and swallow his own tongue.

It was Shaen, not Thelonius, who was predicted to swipe Hydran from his throne.
Shaen felt a bit of blood trickle from his ear. His brain was pounding and, feeling insulted, was determined to break a hole in Shaen’s skull and find a better landlord. He laid back on the grimy tile floor hoping that the coolness it perpetually emanated would calm him. How could he be the next king?! He couldn’t lead a chorus line, let alone Pandemonium! He allowed his bare arms to fall out straight from him and regretted it, the grit of the floor permeated his flesh sickeningly. The white robes that demonic youths normally wore was still clothing him, but after several fights with opposing gangs, the sleeves had become shorn and had eventually fallen off. Not like Thelonius’ robes. No matter how many scraps he got into, Theo always managed to come out unscathed. Shaen already had a few permanent scars from the ‘adventures’ Thelonius was prone to getting his gang into.

Chewing his lower lip in anxiety, Shaen sat up again. Recently, his eyes had been becoming redder and losing their pinkish tones. It was a sign that he was reaching maturity. His fangs were elongating, his claws sharpened on their own. He was growing taller, stronger. The black and white horns on his head were becoming pointed and curved, following the shape of his skull. He too was growing a goatee; his appeared messy and unkept, despite the demon’s attempt to groom it. It always grew back by the next day. In any case the prophecy had stated that on the first day he reached full maturity would be the day he would kill Hydran. According to his slap-shot calculations that gave him about ten years.

Around him the wispy souls of humans swayed calmly, perfectly content in believing their lie of foliage. He was filled with the intense desire to kick one of them and force it to share in his discomfort. A leader,....a leader needed— something. What was that word? Yulak had used it once, when he was describing Theo. A leader needed— Car-is-mah? Right? Something like that. What ever it was, Shaen was fairly certain that he didn’t have it, whereas Thelonius seemed to ooze car-is-mah out of his ears.

Shaen sighed. The responsible thing would be for him to—......well, obviously it would be....Shit. What was the responsible thing to do? Tell Thelonius? Telling him would either break him, royally piss him off....or he would laugh. He would think it was a joke, he wouldn’t believe it. Shaen hadn’t believed it. But Kirin had assured him, and when Kirin assured you of something, you could take it to the bank. Although Shaen wasn’t quite sure why someone would take Kirin’s words to the edge of a river, but whatever.

“Gah!” Shaen shouted, more to himself than the surrounding souls. Not that he could hear him if he wanted to talk to them. After all, they were in a field; why would someone be shouting in a wheat field? His premature claws raked themselves over his scalp as his tugged on his brown hair.  “I want out.” He muttered, staring at the wall. “I don’t want to be king.” It sounded like he was whining, even to his own ears. But Shaen didn’t care anymore. He was technically alone, after all.  He murmured as an afterthought: “I can’t be the king.” And then Shaen looked down and realized something vitally important. While Shaen’s mind didn’t exactly work like a criminal defense attorney, he could spot a loophole when he really needed one. He hadn’t told Thelonius about this yet, had he? And he didn’t have to; he could make Kirin shut up about it. After all, what difference would it make? It wouldn’t be a lie to not tell him, it wouldn’t be hard to just forget that Kirin had ever told him and let Theo go on living the dream. In fact, it would be almost pathetically easy! “If I can’t be the king, and don’t want to be the king—..,” Shaen smiled to himself. “Then I won’t be the king.”


Mstislav kept watch outside of the gang’s meeting place. It was his duty as a guard to be ever vigilant, and keep anyone that approached away until it was confirmed that they were a gang member. This basically consisted of showing his the marble that all members kept in their pockets. The meeting place itself was a rather large cave only a few yards away from the River Styx. Thelonius had chosen it because only someone with a very good reason would go near the river, so he figured not many people would be willing to hunt them down. All in all, he was correct. It was extremely rare that someone outside of the gang came to the cave, and usually it was just because they had gotten lost, or had something to tell one of the gang members. People who got guard duty were lucky, it meant that they weren’t off doing something slightly dangerous. Plus the job was easy, stand there, make people show you their marble. If they can’t, shoo them away. Mstislav had, had guard duty before and he was well aware of this fact. He was a large, jumpy demon, and when Shaen approached with a pleasant hop in his step, he was asleep. Just behind him, also on guard duty, Aglaya was sharpening her claws abstractly. Aglaya was one of the few female demons that were in Thelonius’ gang.

It wasn’t that Thelonius was sexist in any way; it was just that most female demons preferred to spend their time learning to be either a wife or a succubus, instead of how to rip someone’s jaw off. But being that she was in the minority caused a great deal of pressure to be on her at all times, causing her to be testy when someone challenged her. She was also very attractive, causing the more mature boys to enjoy making her testy. Aglaya had a nicely curved body, the type that put on in the mind of an hourglass. Her arms had spiraling tribal tattoos. Her scarlet hair formed a widow’s peak and retreated smoothly down to the small of her back, her silver eyes shone in the light; her fangs had formed perfectly in her mouth, the tips curving in slightly and sharply. The tips of her slender ears were covered in soft, red fur. Whenever she was on guard duty the older boys would try to sneak passed her, in an attempt to make her look bad. Instead they ended up in the gang’s make-shift infirmary, getting ice for their……where Aglaya had kicked them. There were rumors that Aglaya and Thelonius were involved with one another, but anyone with any sense could see it wasn’t true. People simply preferred to think that because Aglaya and Thelonius were beautiful, that they would like each other. Upon inspection it was proven that to Thelonius, Aglaya was a devoted member of his gang, nothing more. As for how Aglaya felt--..

“Sh-Shaen!” She exclaimed upon his advancement. After noting how close she had allowed him to come she blushed fiercely with embarrassment. She was also blushing for another reason, and Shaen was well aware of it. Although other girls fought with themselves over who would cheer for Thelonius when he sparred, Shaen hadn’t missed Aglaya’s eyes staring at the back of his head when he got in the ring. Aglaya fumbled around for a few moments before seeing her fellow guard sleeping peacefully to her right. Sneering she kicked Mstislav in the ribs. The larger demon snorted and glanced around blearily and saw his superior, glancing down at him.

“Wha-?.....Why’d ya go an’ do tha’? S’only Shaen.” Mstislav grumbled irritably before rolling over and shutting his eyes. Shaen snorted gently in amusement, before stepping over the sleeping form. Ever since he had formed his plan to not tell Theo, he had been in an ecstatic mood. Everything just seemed…..better…..brighter to him. He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. True, it smelled like ash, but everything in Pandemonium did, so Shaen savored it nonetheless. The female glared at Mstislav, but quickly turned her attention to Shaen, who was entering the meeting place at full stride. Aglaya leaned against the wall and fiddled with her long red hair with long tapered fingers, and plastered a small smile on her face, she narrowed silver eyes in what she hoped was a coy look. She only managed to look slightly tired.

“Uh….Shaen,” She managed. He paused to look back at her, a mirthful smile still resting on his face. “I…..was….wondering if you might want to go see Lady Ontarion fight later?” She asked after a moment. Shaen smile remained kind as he looked on her and he blinked a few times. Sure, why not? Aglaya was a nice enough girl, even if she was a bit violent. And even then, she was……well…….she was pretty.

“Sure, that sounds like fun. I’ll just go tell Theo where we’ll be.” Aglaya’s eyes widened, but she caught herself and tried to appear non-chalant. Shaen’s newly maturing senses could hear that her heartbeat had quickened. It gave him a slightly warm, fuzzy feeling inside; knowing that he made a girl feel giddy.
“Oh, right. I’ll just wait…..here.” The girl finished lamely. Aglaya twisted her white robe in her hands for a few moments. “Shaen?” She called after him again. This time he turned with eyebrows arched. “Could you…uh……not tell Thelonius that you…..well…..got passed us? I know that no one actually keeps guard out here….but….uh…..you know?” Shaen only nodded in response, smiling again. “Right…uh…thanks.”