First Demonic Dragon

Michael became petrified beyond description.

On a supernatural scale, there is very little more horrifying than feeling your power be ripped away from you.

No matter how hard you try to fight it, you are unable to hang onto that which is practically your birthright.

If Michael's reaction was poor, Lucifer's measured response was abysmal.

"Boy… I am your father. Release me now."

The child didn't even blink, he just tilted his head in an uncanny manner.

He remained unresponsive, but Michael had the strangest feeling that the child was fully capable of if.

Rather, he was just choosing not to.

That was by far the more unnerving of the possibilities. And Michael's fear of the child only grew from there.

"Why is he doing this?! Stop him!"

Lucifer was trying not to show it, but he was just as powerless as his brother here. And even more fearful.

The child sprouted an unholy pair of red wings as it lifted it's body out of the confines of it's mother's stomach.

It raised t's other hand and the compression that Michael felt was nearly doubled.

He yelled out as his bones snapped within his arm. Soon his brother followed suit.

Bit by bit, their bodies which had survived for billions of years were broken over and over, and the ancient beings howled in discomfort.

The child made a pulling gesture with his hands and Lucifer and Michael were brought towards him.

Their bodies started to become ethereal, almost akin to weak ghosts on earth.

And the closer that they got to the child, the harder it became to really observe them.

They were also still loosing strength rapidly. Lucifer could no longer hold on to his false appearance and was revealed as a large red demon with goat legs.

Michael was rapidly aging. His blonde hair was becoming white, and wrinkles were forming along his face and neck like rivers and valleys.

His voice was cracking continuously. He was losing ways to call out.

He mouthed words to the best of his ability, but with no substance behind them, they merely fell on deaf ears every time.

Lucifer it appeared, still had energy to yell.

"How dare you! I said that I am your father! Release us from this plague at once or I will-"

The child finished absorbing Lucifer first.

When it was silent once again, all that was left was for Michael to agonize over the monster that he had unwittingly unleashed on the world.

Please. He mouthed.

He thought he was finally going to hear the child say something. Maybe even show a moment of benevolence and spare him.

But he should have known better than to expect anything from pure evil.

He saw the end approaching, but knew neither where it would take him or what it would look like.

And then he was gone. Neither living or dead or even in limbo. Just gone.

The child put his hands down.

He turned around and stared at the woman he had just flown out of.

Today was far from his first day of cognition.

He had been aware of many things for a long time.

He first felt his mother's elation and pride at carrying him. He would be the hope of the demon realm. He would be the one to make the White City run red.@@novelbin@@

And most importantly, he would make Lucifer love her again.

But when the final thing didn't happen, she began to care less and less about the prior two. And bit by bit, the fact that she was carrying this child became more of an unwanted burden to her than anything else.

Her body was unnecessarily heavy and ugly. She was always tired. And her mood rocked back and forth like a ship on rough seas.

'This wasn't what it was like when I carried Ashmodai' she thought.

He heard that.

Igrat woke up almost every day of her pregnancy wishing that she would have died in her sleep, or that heaven would have randomly come to cull the population of demons.

Anything if it meant that she wouldn't have to suffer more beatings and torture when she awoke.

He heard all of that too.

What was already fated to be an extremely dark force in the world was made even darker because of the way that it was carried.

Conceived out of malice, carried in anguish, and born from violence.

His concept of enemy and ally was slurred and nonexistent.

And even though he should have been dependent on and glued to his mother at this young age, he looked upon her and felt no real tether.

Igrat's eyes flickered open and they landed on the baby covered in her blood.

Even though a part of her guts were almost spilling out onto the table, Igrat still tried to sit up.

She stared at her son. He stared back at her.

And for a moment, there was nothing said between the two of them.

But then, the child noticed that his bother was analyzing him thoroughly up and down.

"...Am I not how you hoped?"

His voice was far too deep for an infant. He spoke with a refined accent akin to an ancient nobleman long dead.

When his lips parted, Igrat briefly saw that he had been born with a full set of pointed teeth.

And those orange, uncanny goat eyes...

It was all a lot to process.

Igrat wept. And in doing so, she inadvertently gave her son a different answer than the one that was on her mind.

She knew.

As soon as her son had asked her that edged question, she knew that he had heard her for all of that time she had been pregnant.

Every mean comment she had said to herself. Every thoughtless time that she had cursed the child for circumstances that were not yet in his control.

And waves of regret came crashing back to her in that moment. Especially since, in her eyes, his very first act had been to save her.

But a newborn child, even a demon, cannot differentiate between tears of regret and tears of fear. Crying would always be met with a negative connotation.

And so, he believed that he had his answer, though he was completely wrong.

The child raised his hand again.

His father's spear came floating to his side; its blade sharpened and pointing directly at his mother.

Igrat was too distraught. She never even relaized what was happening.

But before the child could impale her on the table where she lay, he felt 'something' fill the room.

It was both tangible and not at the same time.

It felt like someone suddenly draping a blanket over your shoulders while you were at home alone.

Chilling, but full of sentiment.

Oh, dear. I hoped I wasn't running too late, but it seems that may be the case.

The child wasn't the only one to hear the voice. Igrat noticed it immediately.

She quickly wiped her face of tears and tried to stand up despite her weak legs. "Wh-Who-"

Sleep.

Igrat's eyes became heavy. Her wound closed up like it was never even there, and she fell to the floor with her head bouncing off the carpet.

The child just stared down at her with a look of vague disinterest before looking about the room.

"Reveal yourself, jester. You invoke my ire by hiding in the shadows."

Do I? Scary.

Out of the corner of the child's eyes, it noticed a mirror's surface ripple.

Staring back at him was... something. H-He didn't know how to explain it, and trying to box it's perception into any one category felt like one massive falsehood.

Just looking at it hurt his eyes to the point that they bled.

Too much? I'm sorry, I haven't done this in a while.

The mirror image shifted.

Now, the child was staring back at himself. Only this time it had it's arms folded and a rather smug look on it's face.

The child didn't have that look, and he most certainly did not fold his arms.

My, it's been such a long time since I've been up here!

The child realized that he couldn't exactly describe the being's voice either. He only knew that it seemed to be vaguely happy for some reason.

I will admit, I almost didn't come. I mean, I'm still lingering on the high of setting the law denying that one guy's acceptance into art school in every universe. That one was quite the rush!

The child didn't know why this being was saying everything except for who it was and what the hell it was doing here.

I told myself it wouldve been better to remain scarce after that level of meddling. But with those two of all people seeking me out so fervently, I had to come and see what all the fuss was about.

The child could only figure that the 'those two' this woman mentioned had to be the two unfortunate individuals he'd just killed a second ago.

True to his suspicions, the entity in the mirror looked around the room and clicked their teeth when it didn't find what it was looking for.

But… it seems they have bitten the dust at some point. A pity. I would've liked to know what my brother's best and worst son could've proposed for us to get into.

Suddenly, the reflection stared back at the child with a smile that made his black blood curdle like spoiled milk.

But you look like you could also be fun. What do you say? Want to spend time causing a little mayhem with your great aunt?