The Beginning Of An End

Chapter 5

All night I found excuses not to think. Reports, summons, meaningless tasks. Anything was preferable to sitting alone with my thoughts. I stayed in my room as long as I could, avoiding attention, and surprisingly, no one disturbed me. Peace, however, was short-lived—the hour of the ceremony was approaching.

Reluctantly, I opened my eyes. The castle buzzed with commotion, everyone eager for the event. I barely felt like the demon I was supposed to be, though after recent events, I wasn't really myself anyway. If the apocalypse was coming, I might as well make the most of what was left.

I rose and conjured formal attire in my mind. In an instant, I was in a sleek black shirt and vibrant red necktie. Loosening the tie and rolling my sleeves to my elbows, I aimed for relaxed rather than stiff.

I draped a flowing maroon cape over my shoulders, its raised collar adding a touch of mystery for the masquerade. My pale face had seen better days, and a quick adjustment of my short black hair added some style. I summoned a plague doctor mask into my palm.

Humans had always been fascinated by masks. They used them during celebrations, rituals, even during moments of terror. The plague doctor was one of my favorites. A symbol of a creature pretending it could stand against something inevitable.

A smile tugged at my lips. With a final glance in the mirror, I donned it and stepped out.

The hallways were empty, though faint echoes of revelry drifted from the grand hall. Curious how many demons gathered this time of year despite their disdain for our leader. Either they were lying—or just hypocritical.

Why the animosity? Simple: our leader had begun to mirror his father from the realm beyond. An apple never falls far from the tree. Watching him evolve into someone despised was frustrating, but the Devil remained steadfast in his dominion.

I descended into the hall. Demons chattered happily, though mostly the lower ranks—they were the ones burdened with the hardest errands, the only ones who truly felt the weight of his power. Perhaps they weren't here for the Devil at all, but for themselves.

I recognized most of the crowd, but in my attempt to push through, I collided with someone. Looking up, I froze at the gigantic fly mask—green eyes staring down at me. Beelzebub. Of course. He could've picked a less terrifying disguise, but there he stood, arms crossed, refusing to budge.

"You seem mad." I noted.

"You have such a good eye!" He retorted sarcastically before telling me to follow him as he turned around and started walking through the crowd.

We arrived at a small bar table tucked away in a corner of the hall. Nearby, positioned next to the expansive windows, a long table displayed an array of mouth-watering foods that looked as tantalizing as they smelled. The aromas wafting from the dishes were irresistible. Beelzebub was truly a master chef.

"I thought you were dead!" He suddenly exclaimed. The more I looked at him with that fly mask the more uncomfortable I had felt. The eyes on it were way too big and invasive.

"I know, I'm sorry for not saying anything. Some things happened." I swallowed hard, tempted to leave out details. My gut warned me honesty might be a mistake—I didn't want to drag him in. After so long living without empathy, even small gestures of care felt foreign.

"Still kicking, so it couldn't have been that bad," Beelzebub said, placing too much faith in me. It almost hurt to admit he was right. With Loki, everything seemed to escalate no matter what I did.

"Well... not exactly." I grabbed five shot glasses from a nearby waiter and filled them with pink demon alcohol called Fairy Drops. Misleading name—this stuff would flip your brain like a burger. Beelzebub poured himself a blue drink and downed several shots, waiting patiently. Not even he was ready for what was coming.