|Welcome to Hellsbane
Author: JoanofArc7777777 PM
"She stared up into the fiery eyes of the seven-foot-tall Lion; literally fiery eyes, because the beast was made entirely of flame. She shouldn't have been surprised really; other freshmen got to face off against Goblins and Baykoks, but of course she would get stuck with Ifrit, Lord of the Blaze. She wished he was Ifrit, Lord of the Candles; it was a FAR less threatening title."Rated: Fiction T - English - Supernatural/Adventure - Chapters: 21 - Words: 85,653 - Reviews: 55 - Favs: 18 - Follows: 25 - Updated: 05-06-13 - Published: 11-26-12 - id: 3077708
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Are good and evil choices? Or Birthrights? And can free will operate within the realms of destiny?
Please, if at any point in time you decide my story is not worth reading, send me a private message or some form of review. Any and all comments give me a chance to make this story better.
A creature, for to call it a man would be a vast insult to the race of humans, stood perched on a roof in a small village; it's insect-like wings occasionally fluttered in the chill autumn air, and the moonlight reflected off it's exoskeletal armor. Biblically the creature was known as the demon Prince Beelzebub, and he was essentially out of place amongst the peaceful scenery as he stared down at the house across from him. He had patiently waited for the past five days, and now was the time for him to act or it would be too late. The monster rose slowly, stepping off the roof and floating silently to the ground; as he touched down the creature transformed, becoming similar in form to that of a man; a top hat, cloak, and cane completed his appearance. He walked leisurely across the street to the house; the door opened for him, almost welcoming him. He smiled at the thought. With his mind he probed around the house; the lady who owned the place was asleep in the living room, but she was not his target, he probed more, upstairs, into a small room…
He hissed and recoiled as his mind met with raw power, so it was as he feared. He threw up shields in his mind and slowly made his way up the stairs, careful not to make any noise. He passed the room of the unfortunate mother, her body having long since been removed. The small room next to it was where he went, opening the door cautiously.
There, by the window, lay the child. Peacefully sleeping in her cradle, wrapped loosely in a blanket, she was blissfully unaware of the mother she had stolen life from, and the demon that stood a small distance from her. Blonde hair engulfed her small head, shining in the moonlight from the window. The demon moved to her side; to anyone else the child would have looked angelic, but to the Demon prince she was a monster.
He slowly took her small right hand in his, her palm facing upwards, and though it stung he ignored it. He unwrapped the blanket a bit, putting the forefinger of his other hand on her chest; then he began to chant, a low guttural noise, and as he chanted lines began to form on the child's torso; they looked inky, a thick blood red color, and they formed a flame-like spiral on her chest, right above her heart. The hand he held grew a design of it's own, another circle, much smaller and simpler, with more strange symbols within. The two signs grew vein-like tendrils which thickened and grew, up her arm and across her upper body, connecting at her shoulder. The creature lifted his grotesque hand from her torso, and a dark burgundy flame appeared at the tips of his fingers; he moved it towards the mark on the child's hand, and as the flames licked at it the design seemed to suck the flame in, absorbing it, as the design on her chest glowed faintly for a second.
Throughout it all the child was silent, sleeping soundly, unaware of the flame that was now eating away at her soul. Suddenly, however, as the last of the hellfire disappeared into the strange mark, the small girls eyes snapped open; her crystal blue eyes glowed with an ethereal power that the demon knew was not hers.
He drew back slightly in fear at first as the girl turned to look at him, but then a slow, malicious smile crept across his face; her divine protector was too late, so long as there was sin to feed on, the hellfire would not go out. This child, even just six days old, had plenty to feed the flame. A bastard child who murdered her mother at birth, with the addition of original sin; his smile grew at the thought, sharp teeth showing, it would last at least until she was capable of sinning on her own. Yes, as the child grew and continued to sin her soul would be continuously eaten away at, and eventually she would pose no threat whatsoever to the Demon prince and his kind. He looked into the angry glowing eyes, backing away but smiling nonetheless. He tipped his hat, drew up his cloak, and disappeared; nothing but a swarm of flies that quickly flew away to show who had been there.
The girl's eyes still glowed, however, and they slowly turned downwards, her affected palm moving into view. The alien gaze studied the patterns, and slowly the designs began to glow with the same blue light that shined through her eyes. The veins that had crept up her arm receded, until all that was left of them were small tendrils snaking out of the center design, as well as the single thick vein that connected with the design over her heart; the design glowed brighter, and slowly a second circle formed around the first, a kind of border that traced itself around the circle, on either side of the vein, and up around the second circle. The first design had been wild-looking, flame-like with demonic runes and a dark red color in the shape of a spiral; this second pattern which encased the first was beautiful, with flowing marks of a divine nature, and two parallel lines a centimeter apart stretching all the way around, with the runes between them. As the glow faded the second design seemed to be burnt into the skin, while the first seemed almost…alive. The hand lowered, and the eyes began to close; the blue light left the child's face, and she once more looked to be sleeping peacefully. After all, a six-day-old child could not understand the battle that had just gone on in her body between two forces of such pure good and evil.
A few hours later the middle-aged woman came to check on the child, she found her sound asleep but soon noticed the new mark on the girl's palm, tracing it to the girls heart. The woman raised it up to study it, quickly understanding what had happened; after all she had been expecting it, she knew the child would not go unnoticed. She put the child's hand back down, careful not to wake the girl, and knelt next to the small crib. She put her hands together, closed her eyes, and whispered two words.