Devil's Sabbath

Chapter Two: Demon of Sheep

Chapter Two: Demon of Sheep

Shadow demons are a strange breed among our kind. Even with our diversity of races in the demon species, shadow demons are the only variety that barely qualifies as demon at all. They are not born through sexual reproduction like the rest of our kind- in fact, they cannot breed, and they have no sexual organs. They are neither male nor female.

Shadow demons do not come into the world through birth. Rather, they are born from the shadows of other demons. The strife, stress, hatred, vices, and other wickedness that consumes each and every demon on Arcadia- these create shadows, a tangible soot of pure negativity concentrated into a physical form, one that gained its own sentience and became a new creature through the power of wrath. The emotional waste that demons expel clump together to form these shadowy creatures.

In that way, it makes sense for shadow demons to live in the Wrath Ring, a veritable garbage dump of refuse and rubbish. The shadow demons are the result of a byproduct, the things that the demon species threw out because they had no need for. Though they are living, it is questionable to say if they even have souls to call their own. Such beings expelled from the womb of pure darkness and spite have no need to exist among us, in our civilized world.

-Vassago, Sin of Greed, in a report from the Arcadian Institute of Demonology.

The crimson beacon on the horizon belonged to an enormous, towering tent that probably could have fit most of the village inside it. Like every other settlement in the Wrath Ring, the inn had to be moved from place to place along with the shifting sands and storms. It usually followed other settlements, and the red light shone from miles away to guide weary travelers to it. When you saw the red beacon, you knew that safety and rest wasn't far away.

"Make sure to keep your hands to yourself," I warned Zain. I peeled up the front flap of the tent, and the two of us quietly entered together. The inside of the inn was rather expansive, but without much room for privacy. Some beds rested on the carpeted ground, while other demons were fast asleep in hammocks that hung from the ceiling. Tables and chairs were scattered about, along with other equipment. I supposed it was more suitable to call it a rest stop rather than an inn, but some folks stayed here for days, and it wasn't like they let you sleep here for free. As a Sin, I got my own allowance for presiding over the ring. As meager as it was, it definitely helped when fellow demons paid me to hunt down feral beasts.

Zain and I sat down at the front desk, before an elderly demon woman with sagging, wrinkled skin and faded gray hair. She was dressed in tattered, sand-bleached rags. Despite looking older than any other demon I had ever seen, her horns still had a glossy sheen, and the butterfly wings upon her back brightly gleamed in the dim light of the lanterns. She glanced at Zain, then smirked at me. "Oh my, Diamora. I didn't expect you to come in with a lover. I can set up a private tent-"

"No way!" I snapped. "T-that...that's not it at all! We're not lovers or anything of the sort!" My white skin flushed hot red. "What gave you that idea anyway?"

"Well, the poor boy doesn't have a lick of clothing on him," the old woman sneered.

I sighed. "Yes, that's...a long story. Lady Mariposa, I didn't bring him here just to find a place to sleep. I know you're very knowledgeable about demon species, and I was hoping you could...well, tell me what he is?"

Lady Mariposa's gold eyes squinted. "Indeed, he has a strange aura about him. Almost like a demon's, but...not quite either. Not to mention he smells terrible."

"Why is everyone saying I smell?" Zain grumbled. "I know I haven't showered in a while, but...it can't be that bad, right?"

"It isn't about that," Lady Mariposa said. "It's about your scent as a being. Every living creature has their own distinct scent. Yours is not like any other demon."