The Soul on Fire | Slow Updates

Chapter Two

Exquisite.

It was the only word that came to mind when he looked at her. As far as he knew, the Angel of Truth wasn't a warrior. He had heard about her achievements throughout the centuries – most of which either Lucifer's fallen angels or his own demons had been able to disrupt.

She had fascinating abilities from what he'd heard – being able to discern all truths apart from lies and carrying the world's wisdom on her shoulders. She brought clarity to mortals and gifted them with veracity and insight.

Yet she stood before him now, sword at the ready, prepared to engage in a fight she could not win. He admired her. She was fierce in her desire to protect the prophet – putting herself on the line in the process. She was clearly invested in her mission. It was almost a shame he would be the one to put an end to it.

He had never failed. Getting a human to commit all seven of the Deadly Sins was a specialty of his. Even if the individual was strong of mind and heart, Asmodeus only needed to influence a weaker, more susceptible mortal into putting an end to the other's progress. More often than not, it ended in death.

He'd rather the prophets died martyrs than succeed in implementing the sort of change that would only weaken his and the Devil's hold on humanity. It was bad enough being damned – feeling the agonizing fires burn him from the inside every second of every day. He was accustomed to the perpetual torment. Being used to the suffering didn't lessen it in the least, though. The pain was excruciating – even though he never showed it.

"Leave now," the delicate creature spoke, lifting her blade until the point pressed into his sternum. "I will not hesitate to strike you down."

Asmodeus grabbed the tip of her blade and aimed it over the space that occupied his black heart. The organ hadn't beat for as long as he could remember. It served only to fill the space behind his ribs. He pressed the tip of the blade into his flesh, drawing blood.

"Do it," he said gently. He didn't want to scare her, yet he knew the depth of his soulless existence would terrify her. He could see that she was an innocent – her only purpose to serve humanity and guide it toward the light.

He was a creature of darkness. Fire burned where his soul should be – the only emotion familiar to him being endless rage. Hatred. There was a flicker of something else in him as he looked at her.

She was a rare beauty with long raven hair and skin so smooth he longed to touch it. Her eyes were large, and crystal-blue irises sparkled up at him. Her face was flushed, lips parted. She panted, her body wound tight as she held her sword firm. She made no move to attack him, even when he encouraged her to.

He took a step forward and the blade penetrated his flesh. He walked toward her until the hilt of her sword was pressed into his skin. The blade tore through him and exited through his left shoulder blade at his back. She sucked in a sharp breath, disbelief shining in her eyes as they darted over his chest and the place where the blade protruded from his back.

"You can't kill that which is already damned." He curled his palm around her hand and eased it back, pulling the sword from his flesh. The fire inside him licked at the fresh wound, cauterizing it and knitting the flesh back together. Within moments, he was completely healed – no evidence of the gaping hole left behind.

"Don't do it," she pleaded, her eyes glazing over and bottom lip trembling – tempting him in a way he'd never known possible. "You can't just barge in here and kill him. I've been with him all his life. You can't just end it all this way!"

Armaita disappeared in a flash of white light, reappearing only seconds later at the far end of the temple. She wrapped her arms around the mortal, engulfing him in a white light. Asmodeus could feel her protective barrier enveloping the prophet. He continued to busy himself with his task of cleaning and organizing the space he occupied.

Asmodeus took a step and shadows covered his body, teleporting him quickly to where the angel and her ward stood. He stepped from the shadows and approached the man – already seeing the radiant white light inside him. Lucifer had been right to worry – he was stronger than any before him.

Still, all it took was a tiny seed of doubt, and temptation would soon take over. He lifted a finger and pointed at the prophet's heart.

"No!" The angel smacked his hand away and stood defensively in front of her charge, expanding her brilliant white wings to create a barrier between them. It was almost comical how the human continued about his business as though nothing was happening at all. Of course, nothing was happening. Nothing he could see with mortal eyes, at least. "Do not touch him!"

She called her inner fire forth again – the one she had torched him with earlier – and raised her hands high above her as they were engulfed in pearly flames. Her eyes became white as she lifted her head toward the Heavens and mumbled something under her breath.

An agonizing pain tore through him and he found himself falling to his knees, covering his ears when a sharp sound grated them. He felt her flames descend on him – burning his flesh hotter than the ones inside him – making him roar in agony.

He quickly called his shadows and reappeared outside the mosque, still on his hands and knees trying to catch his breath. He slowly rose to a stand – grinding his teeth against the pain that such a simple movement brought him. The flesh on his arms and chest was quickly knitting back together as his naturally accelerated healing kicked in.

He heaved, fury igniting his onyx blood, stoking the flames inside him. Large clouds of smoke poured from his nostrils and mouth as his anger consumed him. She had momentarily trounced him, but he would not break so easily. If it was the last thing he did, he would infect that prophet with temptation and corrupt him from the inside out.

Asmodeus appeared inside the mosque again, not at all surprised to find the angel alone. She wouldn't be much of a keeper if she didn't seize his moment of weakness as an opportunity to send the mortal somewhere safe.

He marched toward her – his hooves tapping against the floor as he approached. She remained impassive, her eyes trained on him – watching his every move.

"Where is he?" he demanded, towering over her and taking her jaw in his hand. He jerked her until she looked at him and gave her throat a threatening squeeze. "I will crush the life out of you, angel. Speak."

She showed no fear as she lifted a delicate hand and wrapped it around his wrist. Flames licked at his scarlet skin – burning him until he released her and staggered back. She unfurled her wings and stretched them high above her, succeeding at making herself look larger than she was.

"I banish you from this sacred place, Asmodeus, King of Demons. You are not welcome here!"

A bone-searing pain wracked through him – weakening him instantly. He roared against it – nostrils flaring and anger rising to paramount heights, until flames burst from his nose along with thick black smoke.

"You were wrong, Demon King," Armaita said with a smug look, "your name does give me power over you."