Darkness was still as death. He did not move nor did he breathe. He was the everlasting night– what need did such a being have for movement?
And yet the creatures beneath his feet knew he was very much awake.
As always, his sons, some whole most only tattered bits of flesh and gristle, awaited their father's command. Those who proved useful would keep whatever remained of their flesh. Anyone who did not would be condemned to additional punishment – flaying so complete there would be even less left of the form they once held.
Several, lost in the deliriousness of their pain, dreamed of the moment when they were no longer flesh. They imagined the sweet embrace of nothingness. How it would swallow them whole and relieve them of their existence.
This was folly.
Darkness did not grant such mercy to his children. There was no reprieve from his service, no cold blackness to dull the memory of their pain.
There was only slavery.
Asher reached out with what was left of his hands. He did not have any skin on his face to close over his one remaining eye. He searched through the wet, sloppy pile of meat but could not discern his flesh from the others. The most savage of purees, it was a tremendous of pool of thick, gelatinous liquid made from once whole muscle and bone. Any demon lucky enough to come by anything solid could claim it for himself –if he was strong enough.
He was not so lucky this time.
As Asher and his brothers waited for their father to awaken, he focused his energy on creating an eyelid. He would rebuild his body piece by agonizing piece until he was whole once more.
No matter how long such a task might take.
Then he would find his way back to Blackwater and claim his prize.
And this time, not Dante, his father, or even the Abyss itself would stop him.
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*A/N: Image Credit - "The Wet Cave at Kinkeel" © Andy McInroy
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Bad Melody (Seven Deadly Sins #3)
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