A Waltz In Hell

Ashes and Dust

"You're the king of ashes, your throne full of spears and your subjects turned to dust."

He never could have known how his own words could pierce within his ears like that. The figure was already sickening enough to look at, reminding him of the man who was the cause of every occasional nightmare he would have. Satanick wasn't one to be haunted by bad dreams that much anymore; he knew quite well that whatever had happened in the past would never become a reality again. That was one of the many reasons he didn't regret becoming the person he currently was. So dreams like these would usually serve as a slight scare for the night, but the new ones were different.
Maybe because he hadn't anticipated to see his own subordinates and friends turning against him.
Maybe because his mind couldn't process the sight of all of them killing themselves in front of him and make him feel as if he cared for them.
Maybe because he never expected to see Ivlis in one of them as the killer.
He could only expect Ivlis dead in one of these. It's not really that Satanick cared much for him in his nightmares, he just wanted the dreams gone. But these ones couldn't even make him
Ivlis was standing over the bodies of everyone he knew, his feet stepping on a fire pit that had been lighted upon the hole on Envi's body. He could see Envi's head just a bit further from his neck, slightly dislocated and dripping fresh blood. The Devil took a step back before his eyes crawled up the demon's figure.
The rather frail man reeked of smoke and he could see that parts of his sleeves were also scorched. Yet, the thing that shocked him the most was the brightness that Ivlis radiated, the fire in his eyes that felt like a spear to his lungs.
The flame Devil smiled at him, closing his eyes midway before opening his mouth slightly to word out some phrase. Whatever sound came out of it sure was blurred to Satanick's mind, because he was more focused on the shivers and the feeling of the blood rushing within his veins. If he hadn't been scared before, he were then. His stomach was basically screeching and every breath he took was like glass to his skin, squeezing the blood out of its place.
How could Ivlis, out of everyone, cause that to him?
"Did you hear me, Satanick?" The Devil only returned to his senses when he saw the other demon right in front of him, staring deep into his eyes that spat fire into his. A few years ago he would say that it was romantic how Ivlis's eyes could be so expressive and full of life, but right then, they were plainly reflecting himself covered in flames.
"Don't tell me you're scared! I thought you'd like it," Ivlis smirked and lifted his arms up, which caused the blood on his fingers to roll beneath his sleeves. "A blood fest for the birthday of the Head Demon himself!" Ivlis said, his tone as ironic as ever.
Satanick managed to find some courage within him to respond.
"You are not real," he says, his lips curved in a smile as if to reassure himself, "Ivlis isn't powerful enough to do that."
"You know damn well about what I can do," the devil approached the dining table next to Licorice's dispatched body. He quickly grabbed the first knife he saw and ran his fingertip on the blade, igniting the tip of the knife as blood dripped slowly from the carved point. Satanick wondered if Ivlis would actually have the nerve to kill his own son; to him, it always felt like Licorice loved him more than he did in return.
''That's why you want me to do this."
Satanick looked at Ivlis in question. He would have laughed, if his guts weren't beating him from the inside at that moment.
"Huh? Why would I?" He asked and Ivlis showed him a huge smile, closing his eyelid and lifting his chin up in pure bliss, placing the burning tip of the blade to the hollow of his throat, pressing it slowly to his skin as it started having its effect on his skin. Satanick, in horror, watched it as if he had never seen anything like it before. The voice in his head urged him to keep silent and avoid expressing any sort of concern or scream. It was just a dream after all, wasn't it?
"Because that's what you deserve." Ivlis withered as the blade started dipping into his neck, pushing tears to leak down his cheek. Satanick would usually take pleasure in the way his tears looked. They were warm like boiling water and they were always accompanied with a little smoke that left his eyeballs. He never asked him if it hurt him to cry, but he did want now. As for his insult? He didn't care for it, he had heard many similar ones before.
Yet there was something about the way he was dying in front of him; the way everyone was lying dead on the floor, without any sign of what his thought primary enemy was. Something that made him hurt more from the inside.
"You deserve a world, a kingdom..." Ivlis smiled as the blood propped down like a waterfall on his neck's skin, flowing onto the collar of his black shirt. "You're going to be doing the one thing you're good at. You're the king of ashes, your throne full of spears and your subjects turned to dust."
With that, the devil pushed the knife even deeper to his neck as his head rapidly fell to the ground, next to his body which was finally cooling down.
Satanick was still replaying the words he said before he killed himself and took a moment to analyze his surroundings.
The room smelled like death and the air lacked life, a cold mist surrounding him and disposing of the bodies in front of him. A sea of dead, molding into one massive swarm that covered everything that laid in front of his eyes.
The Devil let out a tear fall off, seeing how there was no one there to see him cry. He was alone there, wasn't he? That ached him enough. He had no one to show off as strong for, no one to rule over, no one to obsess over or to even exchange a look. Every name that flew by his head had been taken away within seconds. What was this? A fucking soap drama?
The worst of it though must have been the fact that he woke up in purple sweat and his own vomit, knowing exactly what he had done to deserve such a dream.
...
It had been the sixth week, yet the storm covering the sky of the Pitch Black World was still as gray as the moon. Maekami sighed, running the cloth around the tip of the last he would clean before opening his bar. He should have not expected any early guests, so he hadn't cared much for turning on the radio nor dusting the higher shelves. He would have time for them later. Instead, he put the glass down and opened a small flask of cognac to pour on it.
He was then struck again with the memory of Satanick's effect on the weather. Maekami didn't really care for anyone much, but he decided to make a toast to him. He missed having customers in his bar and knowing that Satanick's birthday was coming up, he would have expected at least one of his subordinates to come and buy some alcohol indeed to surprise him with a party. But his birthday was in 4 days and no one had stepped out of the castle.
"To our fucking sunshine, asshole," Maekami lifted the paper to pull the glass to his lips as he quickly gulped it down before slamming the glass back down and unintentionally synchronizing it with the knock on his door.
He raised a brow in surprise, who could it be at 7 in such a rainy morning? Maekami got out of his spot behind the bar and went over to door, leaning his ear next to wood as his ears entwined with the rythm of the heartbeat of the person outside.
"Dokugai," he muttered as he opened the door to the hooded demon in black. Dokugai took off his mask and grinned at Maekami, opening as if to speak.
"No need telling me, just remind me how much whiskey," Maekami interrupted him and Dokugai nodded negatively.
"First of all, good morning." He said in a correcting manner. Maekami wanted to laugh; who was he to receive lessons on manners by the Devil's subordinate?
"Yeah, good morning." The demon obliged and crossed his arms as Dokugai took a white envelope out of his pocket. Its edges were slightly soaked, but the letter within seemed to be in perfect condition. Before Maekami would have the chance to ask what it included, Dokugai had already put the envelope in his hand and locked eyes with him.
"Satanick would like you to take care of the catering for his birthday party, specifically the VIP guests." He said bluntly and Maekami gave in to confusion. What did he mean by VIP? Weren't the parties already for the people that lived in the castle?
"Why, are there others?"
"Well duh, the entire world!"