by J Moon
Nia took in a deep breath to summon calm as she crouched near him. “Pop are you okay? Talk to me!”
Slowly her stirred awake. With one eye open, he looked up at her. His mind in a state of utter confusion. “I’m okay baby girl. Where the hell are we?”
She couldn’t even answer the question before tears streamed down her face. A hundred emotions slammed into her, and threatened to burst out all at once. “Everything will be okay. Pops don’t worry. I got a friend who will help us out.”
Pops was slow to get on both feet. He started with resting his weight on one knee. “Help us out of what?” He asked as she helped him up. Pop stood with his knees on fire, his age and weight limited his mobility. With a weary sigh he asked, “Who was that man?”
Nia gathered herself for a moment to explain. “He’s a demon.”
Pop’s eyes grew large. Then he darted his head back. “A demon?”
Nia nodded her head, “Yes.”
Pops stood for a moment and shuffled to the far side of the room. He rubbed his head. This was a habit Nia knew all too well, he was in shock.
“Nia what kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into?” He asked to a dead silence. “I told you to stop smoking that Reefa.”
“Pops I didn’t do anything. I swear. He wants to use me to unlock a weapon.”
Pops looked up trying to find answers out of nowhere. None of it made any sense. “You? Why?”
Nia clasped her hands, and pulled them to her nose. She focused her thoughts, trying to find words to explain to him a situation she couldn’t even believe for herself. “I’m one of the Anointed. It means I’m special. I was chosen for something, that I wish I could change but…. I don’t know something is wrong with me.”
Pops went closer to Nia, and grabbed her by the arm. “Nothing is wrong with you. You are special and I’ve always told you that. Me and your mom knew that the day you came into this world.”
Take me home, she thought as she fell into his gaze. In the presence of her father she felt nine years old again, protected, safe, and loved.
Yet still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she caused all of this. The weight of guilt was like an elephant on her chest, the words unsaid lodged in her throat, and the mixed emotions drowned her with no mercy.
Nia turned her back on her father, “And look where I got us.” She peered down as she felt the pain fester inside. “Its days like this I wish mom was here. She wouldn’t be scared. She was so brave. Even in the face of death.”
“And you're just like her. Every day when I look in your eyes, I am reminded of your mother’s beauty and strength.”
Pops smiled. A tear almost tried to escape his eye, so he blinked it away before either of them could see it. “You know I never told you this, but I wanted a son. Someone who would be my little shadow. Every day while your mom was pregnant I used to rub her belly and call you junior.”
Still sniffling, Nia wiped her eyes. “Pop what’s your point?”
“Well the day I found out I was going to have a girl I became afraid. It’s one thing to teach a boy how to be a man and survive this tough world, but it’s another to instill that sense of resilience in a young woman.” Then he grabbed both of Nia’s shoulders. “Nia you are tough as nails, and I’m proud of you. I know my daughter can take care of herself.”
Nia looked him in the eyes. In that moment she relived not just that last three years, but the days and weeks that had followed, funerals, telling people of her mother’s death, memorials, notices in papers, sorting out the financial side of things, finding the will.
None of it had been easy on Pop.
Hadn’t been that easy on Nia either, to tell the truth, and a year ago that would’ve been her overriding thought. No young girl should feel this heartache, but she supposed there was no other way to describe the words that pulsed through her blood when she thought of her mother.
In just a short adventure with the archangel, she had saw within herself the woman she wanted to be, and this more than ever made Nia want to live and explore life’s great adventures.
This sudden realization made her cry even more. She cried for her father’s pain, their loss, and the memory of that night in the hospital.
Carefully her father reached around her to place his hands around her, forming a cocoon of protection. She felt his heavy breath in her hair, the light brush of his beer belly. Every inch of her felt safe in the arms of her father.
A metallic voice boomed, “Do not move or you will be annihilated.”
Both father and daughter backed up as Legion and two grunt soldiers entered the cell.
Legion remained silent for a moment as he accessed both Nia and Pop with his icy gaze. “At the designated time you will use the staff to part open the gates of Heaven.”
“Listen I wish I could help you but I don’t know how to use that stick to pull tricks. Let me and my father go. I’ll promise to tell the archangel not to go so hard on you. As a matter of fact, I will refrain from putting hands on you myself.”
“You will comply.”
“What part of no you don’t understand?” Nia asked un-politely, with a characteristic head wobble that meant she wasn’t feeling all that polite at all. Even in the face of overwhelming odds, she was still willing to hold her ground.
Legion raised his left hand, in a blur of motion, so quick it made Nia jump, he shot three blades out of his palm.
Nia looked over. Pops was shielding himself as the blades dangled just inches away from his chest. Just that quick she could’ve lost her father. That terror was enough to turn her blood into a pool of ice.
In a breathless voice Legion said. “Now that you see the extent of our power. You will comply.”
“I’ll do whatever. Just don’t kill him. Please!” Nia cried out. She pulled her father closer.
Legion dropped his left hand, and the blades fell to the ground with a loud pang. He strolled out of the cell, then he turned his shoulder to look back. It was a look that should’ve scared Nia to death.
But it didn’t.
Nia stared in the dark corneas of the Legion’s eyes. In that moment she thought what if the archangel could not save her. Surely she would have to do whatever to get her father to safety.
Nia lifted her head, brushed the hair out of her eyes and helped her father off of the floor.
Time was running out, and she had to do something to get them out.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Legion walked out of the cell to catch a harbinger demon stepping out of the shadows. It appeared as a gaunt man dressed in a finely tailored black suit with sullen eyes, and skin the color of ash. “You have been summoned to the chamber of Seven Princes for a meeting with the chairman.”
Legion waved his hand, “Proceed.”
The room shifted, and they descended to level seven of Hell, landing in the anteroom to the chamber of Seven Princes. The chamber was a great hall in the fortified sanctum of The Sons of Chaos, counter-intelligence agency to SMITE, and the Lightbringer’s elite agents of chaos.
Huge doors made of stone stood in front of him, with wrought horned demons, cloaked skeletons, and sword wielding warriors carved on the front. Screams from the torture pit in the dark abyss on a level above, and from the frozen lake below were deafening, but they made the corner of Legion’s lips twitch in glee.
Together they walked forward, and the colossal doors creaked open on ancient hinges. The chamber beyond was even more extravagant, and beautiful in a dark and gloomy way.
Stretching far up above the demon was a thundering night sky, with a gigantic silver serpent coiling its way around full dark clouds. A large black marbled veined table stood at the center of the room, with the chairman at the end, and the agents of chaos sitting around him.
Darkness covered most of the chamber, but it was dimly lit by a great fireplace that roared behind the chairman. There were thousands of other demons who had gathered for the hearing, they all stood in black suits
on choir like balconies that ran hundreds of feet up towards the ceiling. He had arrived amongst clamor and clatter as the agents of chaos talked at the table.
At the end of the table, almost twenty feet across the room, were four shadowy figures, whose silhouettes resembled men, but their faces were concealed by shadow. An animation of Beelzebub and Orobas sat on the right while Leviathan and Belial sat on the left. In front of the blazing crimson fire was the chairman, Abaddon.
Abaddon stood up at the end of the table, the chair slid a few inches behind him, and up came his emerald and leathery wings that stretched upward around fifteen feet. “Quiet!” he said in one sharp note, the sound of his voice was a high dramatic roar. Silence fell once Legion stepped into the light and out of the shadows, many of the princes strained forward.
A voice from the head of the table cleared his throat. “Have a seat number twelve. We are just about to start the meeting and will get to the status of Heaven Reign briefly.”
Legion took a seat at the end of the table, and directed his attention towards the chairman.
“Before we go around the table I have two announcements to make, one grievous, and the other a victory for the Sons of Chaos.” He reached to his right for a piece of paper and began to read. “I regret to inform you, my brethren that one of our own has fallen at the hands of an archangel. Devil number seven, Balthazar was vanquished by archangel Raphael.”
Groans swept across the room like a gentle breeze. The demons although dapper in their suits did not filter their anguish, up on the rafters they demanded Raphael’s head, lower on the left side others suggested what they would do to him with five minutes in the abyss, and across the room they all shouted curses in the archangel’s name.
Abaddon raised his hand to calm the crowd. “Yes I know…. I know. Balthazar was highly regarded amongst the agents of chaos and his contributions will truly be missed.” He paused before starting his next bit of news, delivering it with a much more upbeat tone. “In good news. Devil number three, Asmodeus has successfully opened a new gateway in Atlanta.”
Cheers and applause erupted all around. It echoed to the thundering ceiling. “Now we are told he is currently being pursued by the Anointed. From what I hear the anointed are all inexperienced teenagers, or should I say children. I’m sure Asmodeus should have no problem crushing them and devouring their souls. Stay tuned for news of that victory as well.” The room was full of chuckles as the demons doubted young anointed warriors were a match for one of the princes of hell.
“Now let’s go around the room. Number five,” he spoke loudly with his voice booming around the chamber.
A demon two seats down on Abaddon’s right spoke up. He appeared as a Middle Eastern male in his forties. “War is heating up in the middle east Mr. Chairman. The soul counts are now in the millions and climbing higher. We don’t see an end to war between the U.S. and Iran which is good news for us. My boys are on the field day and night furthering the chaos and claiming more souls in the name of The Sons of Chaos.” The demon took a breath to read the figure written on the report in front of him. “Our analysts project a total of one point five million souls before the Apocalypse.”
Applause filled the chamber as the demon concluded his report. Abaddon himself was pleased, his eyes were still concealed by shadow, but his lips curled into a malicious sneer. “Well done number five. Number ten.”
Across from five, a regal looking African woman spoke up. “Famine has descended upon Sub-Saharan Africa, and diseases are spreading like wildfire. We estimate three million souls before the apocalypse.” Applause filled the chamber again as number ten raised a cocky brow towards number five.
Abaddon called the next agent swiftly, “Number four.”
She appeared as an older Asian woman who sat next to Beelzebub, her right side partly covered by his shadow. “North Korea has intensified the strength of their nuclear weapons program. We have our fiends haunting the command leaders every night. War is upon us and the devastation these weapons will cause is massive.” She looked away from Abaddon. Then she cleared her throat. “Although we have not claimed many souls. We have spread a great fear across the world and that fear will lead to a great battle. Our analysis project a total of five million souls to be claimed before the apocalypse.”
“Number six,” Abaddon called.
Number six appeared as the youngest at the table, under the guise of a twenty-two-year-old Eastern European club promoter with slick hair, and stylish skinny suit. “A public bombing in East Berlin by ISIS has claimed three hundred and twenty-two lives and injured thousands. Fear has swept the city and that impact we believe will lead us to two-hundred thousand souls. With these attacks becoming more visible in the media and more popular on social media, we have more souls to corrupt. Some of them I can see as strong demons. With that in mind I see an estimate of 1 million legion of demons to add to The Sons of Chaos’ ranks.”
Abaddon nodded, “Splendid…. We need to increase our ranks.” He darted his eyes to the end of the table. “Number 11.”
Before number eleven spoke, he nervously took a sip of water. Number eleven appeared as a forty-year-old balding politician from Ohio, with dry patchy skin. “There was a public shooting at a school in Kansas,” He stammered as he looked down at the Chairman. An awkward silence followed as he continued to stare.
Abaddon tapped his fingers. “And.”
“It was very horrific sir.” Number eleven continued.
“How many souls were claimed? What is the effectiveness of the chaos?”
Number eleven straightened his tie before he continued. “Mr. Chairman first of all let me say that I speak for all of us at this table when I say what a fine job you are doing as leader of the new Sons of Chaos. Because of your vision we are finally winning and kicking SMITE’s ass and it couldn’t be possible without your leadership.”
“Yes… yes but how many souls number eleven?”
Number eleven looked down as he spoke. “I was about to get to that sir. I want you to know how much I admire your terrible splendor.”
Abaddon's eyes burned emerald green. “How many, number eleven?”
Number eleven continued to ramble “And without you giving me this opportunity we will not—”
Abaddon slammed his fist on the table. “Answer the fucking question.”
Number eleven jumped in response. “Four sir, but they were all children.”
The fire in Abaddon’s eyes calmed as he settled down. “As you know number eleven we at The Sons of Chaos have high expectations. You cannot be an agent of chaos, let alone a Devil if you are not causing mass conflict, claiming a high number of souls, or spreading terror.”
“Well Mr. Chairman we have a big plan to claim a lot of souls. It’s going to be terrific, just believe me. Only problem is a lot of our ranks got slaughtered by those new anointed warriors in Atlanta.”
“Number eleven I don’t have time for excuses.” Abaddon snapped his fingers and Number eleven was engulfed by billowing emerald flames, the sound of his scream was so boisterous that it echoed against the chamber walls for a whole minute after his ashes crumbled to the chair.
The chairman paid it no attention and moved on swiftly and professionally to the next agenda. “Now we shall hear from one of the newest appointed Devils, number twelve with an update on one of our most ambitious operations to strike at the heart of SMITE. For eons we have battled to seek control of the mortal realm. It is my belief as the new director of The Sons of Chaos that we have to seek control of the Heavens before earth. Number twelve please update us on the status on Heaven Reign.”
Legion got up, folded his arms behind his back and strolled along the table with the other devils passing concerned glances between them. While looking smugly he said, “ Good evening brethren, Nia Carter has been acquired by the League along with the staff of Moses. The seal of ascension has been located, and the ceremony will begin in one hour to activate it. Our forces have been ramping up, and
our numbers outrank the legions commanded by some of you at this table.” The last bit began to draw a rumble of dissent from the large gathering of demons.
Abaddon's lip curled into a smile, “Splendid.”
“Our thought matrix has calculated an eighty-eighty percent success rate.” He paused before shifting tone. “The council of Seven princes have not approved missions before with such a large chance of failure. Even when we pierce the gates of Heaven and the League strikes at the heart of SMITE there is still a chance for the Creator to disperse us back to the pit and close the gateway. Our sources have only allege that he no longer rests on his upper throne. No one has been able to confirm that the Creator has descended to the mortal plane.”
Abaddon’s smile vanished and his lips curled. “The point?”
Legion watched Abaddon’s eyes, slowly becoming aware that amongst this plot, something was off with its inception. When Abaddon glanced at the other Princes before asking him to proceed, he was sure of it. “Mr. Chairman,” Legion asked with total deference in his tone, “We want to know why?”
“Since when do you have a will of your own? You want to know why…. Because it is required. You are a chess piece agent. Don’t forget you were nothing before we created you out of the three thousand lower level demons. We must weaken SMITE forces like Operation X led by Beelzebub has weakened the Anointed.”
“It is all but done,” Legion declared. “But we want what’s ours. The League demands a higher rank amongst The Sons of Chaos.”
A fit of laughter swept around the table.
Abaddon smiled. “We will see about that.”
Legion eyed him. “Be sure you do.”
Once sensing the slightest bit of cockiness in Legion’s tone, Abaddon sliced his finger in the air and Legion was struck down. “Be sure to remember who found you and made you whole. Don’t forget we are the rulers of Hell. We are the fallen and we are the Princes. You are still a bottom dweller with no true power until we deem you worth to rule amongst us.”