Devil in Shepherd's Robes

Ch 25: Burnout

The fire inside burned brightly, but as all fires do, it began to smolder. The rising smoke of his anger rose to great heights, but it was nothing more than smoke. As Ephram stood tall in the graveyard, looking down upon his fallen enemies, he felt his rage subside. The violent dance of hatred he had carried out was definitely the most atrocious thing he'd ever done. A small part of him felt remorse for the demons scattered across the graveyard, yet another part felt relief. Their limbs had been ripped from their torso, their heads had been unscrewed, and their bodies had been mangled beyond recognition. How he had managed to overcome the now silent army was beyond him. The mere thought of having the power capable of doing this was overwhelmingly terrifying.

The prospect of power had never crossed his mind before, but it was now the only thing occupying his thoughts. If the world continued to beat him down until he was forced to take drastic measures, then perhaps it was better this way. Instead of traversing through time and carefully helping those he loved, he would force the world to obey him. All of Yggdrasil would have their hearts set on a brighter future, whether they liked it or not. Yet deep within his heart he knew that peace forced upon the masses was no peace at all.

Looking down at his red left arm, Ephram noticed its crimson hue begin to fade away. Like the cooling of red-hot steel, his pitch-black skin once again reappeared. The center of his torso had done the exact same, now replacing the red vines of rage with his original complexion. The only thing that hadn't changed, however, were his glowing red eyes. They had become much dimmer, but the crimson hue of his irises never faded from his face. Ephram felt like his eyes were finally open for the very first time, in both the literal and figurative sense. He could finally see the world for what it truly was, a never-ending battle for survival.

"I... did this?" He asked himself, slowly walking through the graveyard as he made his way to his unconscious wife and friend.

Stepping over the one-eyed demon's body, he grimaced at the plastered look of shock and pity upon its nearby head. He truly had lost all sense of reason and had succumbed to his rage, and in doing so had felt ashamed for it. It didn't matter to Ephram how necessary it was, the fact of his murderous rampage was still relevant. He had saved both Silvia and May, but had lost Silo in the process. He thought of their lives as more precious than his own, and cursed himself for being so careless with them. His thoughtless actions had led to the death of Silo, his first friend since coming to Hell. If only he had stayed inside the house and hid, perhaps the field mouse would still be alive.

"I'm so sorry..." He trailed off as he reached Silvia and May, unconscious underneath the pine tree.

Throwing Silvia over his shoulder and hoisting May into his arms, Ephram trudged through the mud and fog of the graveyard as he looked back one last time. He found it horribly cruel what the one-eyed demon had done, not leaving the body of Silo to even take back with him. The field mouse had been reduced to mush, a grotesque pile of dark flesh and bone. The only consolation Ephram could find within himself is that maybe Silo had moved on to the Abyss, and perhaps he could save his friend.

But that thought was quickly put out of his mind as he realized just what the Abyss truly was. The Abyss was no afterlife, but the absence of one. Death is death, and there was no getting around it. Silo was doomed to the true eternal nothingness of death, not the false mask the Abyss wore to consume the souls of the living. He could never be brought back, and neither could the demons Ephram had ripped through. They were gone forever along with the field mouse, never to appear again. The thought of an eternal slumber terrified Ephram to his core, and as he walked towards the house with his wife and friend, he began to feel something horribly human begin to happen.

As if his previous statement had been burnt to ash, the devil he proclaimed to be had died almost instantly. The human man Ephram once was had shone through the mask he portrayed to others in the form of tears. Now flowing softly from his red eyes were streams of salty tears, brought on by the pain of losing a friend and nearly losing the others. It had been quite some time since he had felt the rush of tears escape his eyes, and had never once even considered the fact he may cry again as a demon. He thought it was quite the ironic sight, a demon crying over a lost companion. The stories he'd heard as a human child about the creatures of Hell had done nothing but terrify him, but now that he had become one, he felt nothing but anguish.