Angelic Omen

Vengeance

The diminished council was outraged, but their fury was silent. Sornax and Larux were both absent from the table, their bodies somewhere back in Norxentor. Sornax's only son, Nxomov, the new king, sat in his father's seat as the top of the table's arc shape. His hands were clutched into fists as he stared angrily at nothing, seemingly deep in thought. And if looks could kill, Garnis and Knorxe would both be dead on the floor. Cerelas was uncomfortably shifting in his seat, his twin tails curling and uncurling with anticipation and uncertainty.

"So," Garnis said coldly, breaking the silence, "We have numerous dead and injured. Knorxe's little scum is a traitor. And we've screwed our first chance in centuries at destroying Heaven."

He laughed, a frigid, sarcastic sound. He taunted the new king, "What now, fearless leader?"

Knorxe was restraining himself, his claws digging into the wood of the table. If he had any less control over himself, he would have walked to Garnis, clawed out his heart, and maybe have decorated the room with his organs and blood. But he knew how to hold back. So he bit his tongue so hard he drew blood and waited for King Nxomov's decision.

The king growled at Garnis, his temper waning. He was already angered at the loss of his father by Omen, and Garnis's comments only made matters worse.

Cerelas cleared his throat. "Well. I certainly think we are in no condition to strike against the angels anytime soon. They will be on high guard for a long time because of this. And they have Omen now."

"What are we, rats?" Garnis objected, "We are not going to hide away and let them recover!"

"Do not make my decisions for me," Nxomov snapped, out of his thinking trance. The aggression that edged his tone sent the two demons back to their seats, sitting in silence once again.

Nxomov sighed loudly. "Although I do believe that Garnis is right. We will not stand by Omen's treachery while the angels rise back up."

Knorxe angrily said, "We can't, your Majesty! If we attack again, only more demons will die. And Omen might die as well!"

"Who cares if that worthless angel lover gets killed?" Garnis snarled, "He's a traitor to the Kingdom of Hell, to the king, to his own species! He abandoned the kingdom for those feather brains of the light!"

"Do I look like I give a DAMN what side he's on?!" Knorxe was furious now, standing so suddenly his chair was knocked back. "YOU WILL NOT SPEAK OF MY SON IN THAT MANNER, AND WE WILL NOT ATTACK THE ANGELS ANYTIME SOON!"

"ENOUGH!"

Nxomov's ear-splitting screech broke up the quickly heating argument, the inferno of anger dying down to a shocked spark.

The king growled. "There will be no arguments, no questions asked. We will have a week to count the dead, mourn, and tend to the wounded. My official coronation is tomorrow, anyway. Then we return to Heaven. But this time... we will be ready."

In silent fury, the king stormed from the meeting room, leaving the door ajar as his tail lashed angrily behind him.

Knorxe stared after him, his eyes wide.

He can't, Knorxe thought.

His fists clenched.

As long as I still live and breathe, he will not hurt Omen.

No matter the cost.

————

Nxomov stood on the balcony, overlooking Vanapagen as he tried to calm himself down. He was known for his short temper, and that certainly didn't help him now.

He had been friends with Omen. Not best friends or anything, but they had been close enough to hang out together and play together in their youth. Now Omen was the reason his father was dead, a traitor to demonkind. And he was the king of Hell.

His claws dug into the railing. He prayed, "Satan, where do I go?"

There would be no answer from the demon god. There was nothing the immortal being could do.

A creak of the door as it opened.

Nxomov, wary, turned his head. No one stood at the now slightly opened doorway.

What the-

He was knocked to the ground as the oxygen was forced from his lungs. He fell to the ground, wheezing for air. Claws dug into his neck, lifting the king from the ground, bringing him up until his face was level with his attacker's.

"No one," Knorxe snarled, "Will hurt my son."

Gore splattered the ground, splattered Knorxe's hands as Nxomov's head was severed with a resonating crack. Knorxe looked down upon the dead king, his teeth clenched and his breathing heavy. Some of Nxomov's blood had splattered on his face. His pointed tongue dragged across his cheek, and he grinned as the copper taste flooded over his tongue.

He tossed Nxomov's head to the ground. Knorxe walked forward, grabbing the black crown from where it had fallen to the ground.

He had never had any ambitions to be king. That was all Garnis. He always wanted to be the one to kill the royal family, assume the powerful position on the throne.

At least I know, Knorxe smiled.

He set the crown on top of his head. A pentagram shape formed itself on his forehead.

He was now King Knorxe.

And no one would get in his way.

Well, what do you know. The family legacy finally resurfaced.

———

901 words