Always, the endless fucking screaming.
Somehow summoning the will, he climbed to his feet, stumbling over to the table to steady himself. He tried to think. To remember what he had to do.
Need to check boundary wards.He hadn’t left his tower in days, save for his visits to Suyin’s cell.Need to repair sigil from failed attempt. Need to clean mess in library.
Screaming filled his head. He shook it roughly.
Need to gather ingredients for another attempt. Analyze failure and determine cause. Need to …
Screaming.
Need to …
More screaming.
“Shut up,” he growled at the infernal souls. “Shut the fuck up. Shutup!”
For once, they actually listened, and the din dampened to a dull ache at the base of his skull. He lifted his head and blinked, almost surprised to find himself alone.
Need to sleep.
Before he toppled where he stood, he stalked out of his library, leaving the carnage of the failed spell behind. He went down the dark hall to his chambers, slamming the doors behind him as he entered the gloomy room.
As he stripped off his clothes and dropped his weary body into bed, he thought of the witch in his dungeon.
If you want me alive, you’re going to have to feed me.
He scowled. He knew humans needed sustenance to survive. It was partly why he despised them. Despite their short lifespans and multitudinous weaknesses, these were the beings that were the true rulers of creation.
Every rule angels enforced and every scheme demons concocted was for the purpose of influencing these mercurial creatures. Their whims controlled the state of the Earth. If they were evil, the world descended into chaos, and if they were good, the planet thrived.
How such witless lifeforms had secured this integral purpose was a mystery he would never solve.
He was well acquainted with the weaknesses of humans. He just hadn’t expected Suyin to believe she had them. At first, he’d thought she was lying to trick him, but now he wasn’t so sure. She’d seemed genuinely depleted when he’d visited earlier.
Could she actually die from simplybelievingshe was starving to death?
He grimaced. He couldn’t deny that it was a possibility. The power of the mind was formidable, and he knew better than to underestimate it.
Just look at you. You’ve divided your mind into so many parts, you forget that the voice in your head is you.
“Will you shut up, for once?” Murmur mumbled, sinking into the sleep he both craved and despised.
He was burning alive. Agony seared every particle of his being, and the air was filled with his screams. Death was a mercy amid this unbearable torment, and he longed for it with everything left of him.
And then, a cool numbness descended upon his body, andthe glaring light faded blissfully away. The link between his consciousness and body snapped, and he let go. He eagerly awaited the dissolution of his essence, its merging back into the energy upholding creation.
That was how death worked for a demon.
Humans had souls. Those souls were what Heaven and Hell fought so hard to claim. When a human died, their soul was sent to either of the two realms. There they would rest or suffer until they were ready to begin a new cycle.
But a demon was a manifestation of the dark forces in creation, and a demon had no soul. This was accepted as fact. No one questioned this truth.
But when the tether to Murmur’s physical body snapped, his consciousness … did not dissolve. He did not end.
Instead, he felt his formless self being drawn by a powerful force he could not resist. He was sucked toward an impenetrable cage. He cried out in despair, and his voice reverberated everywhere and nowhere at once. And it mingled with the others trapped with him. Thousands of others—
And then he woke up.
