Dufaii - The Patron Saints of the Damned Book I
Chapter 12 - Eternal Condemnation

“I have chronicled much since the rebellion. So it only makes sense that I do so for this, my last moment.

My scouting party consisted of only the two of us–myself and my beloved, Assandra. After the Storms … we both had trouble trusting anyone else. We both wanted nothing more than to be free of the fear and the pain … so we left together in a desperate bid with the rest of the demons.

Somehow, even in becoming one of them, it felt like we were on our own. Not that we were the only ones who felt this way, it was just hard to feel connected after all we had endured. The only connection I felt was to her.

However, as the time went on in our eternal prison, I felt a growing resentment from Assandra. She would tell me that our imprisonment had been my fault … my idea. I … didn’t remember making this decision alone, but I was also beginning to doubt my memory. Everything we suffered was … because of me.

We met up with another scouting group around that time. She became … overly close with one of them. The others in their party pointed out that … things weren’t quite right. That every time she berated me in front of them … or struck me loud enough for everyone to hear. One night, when she was gone with … him … the others asked me if this kind of treatment wasn’t the reason we had left Heaven.

I didn’t realize the extent of how right they were until it was too late, after our groups parted ways. It was then that Assandra’s behavior escalated. She banished me from resting near her. She began to accuse me of smiling in the dark at the pain our prison inflicted om her. She then screamed until she heard me weep, and then cackled into the darkness.

A few hours ago, I slipped away into the darkness. Ever since, I have been haunted by the whispers … I can still hear her beratement … but also that of the Creator during the First Storm. These whispers are … so much worse than just the screaming.

I tried to call out for Assandra, but she is nowhere to be found. I miss her telling me that all this is my own fault. Though she meant to harm me, I think all this time she was actually protecting me … protecting me from the whispers that other demons have rightly spoken of with so much dread. Unlike her, they see into me … they know the exact things which are the truth of my fragile existence.

This is my final record of events. I plan to leap headfirst into the next chasm I find … and to stop existing for a while. Sᴇaʀ*ᴄh the Find ɴøᴠel.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Post Script: I see … something dim in the distance. Though it will be torment, my curiosity drives me to at least see what it is before finding my release from consciousness and thought.”

-note found etched anonymously in stone. Collected and archived in the Library of Hades, in the Hall of Lost Demons.

-O-

Dufaii followed Ammon along a desolate path marked only by torches—more of the humans writhing as they remained engulfed in endless flames that fed slowly on their regenerating bodies. Though he loathed to attempt for any normalcy in the horror of the situation, he found himself averting his eyes from the fire and the outlines of faces within.

Like the blood, it was just too much for him to deal with. Carnage in battle was one thing, a temporary instance in which conflict sparked and then was done. But the slow and methodical forethought that went into the wine, the torches, the white bone door … it all reminded him of something that he couldn’t quite place.

The two of them were still out in the open, a little ways outside of the Lightbringer’s palace. The strengthening auras of the demons inside could still be sensed from where they walked. The mountain in which the demons had gathered was still clearly visible by the torches that were mounted around it. Judging by the trail of torches ahead of them, which led into a narrow canyon between two cliffs, they might soon be walking into a cave.

Dufaii thought to ask whether they would, but he felt drained of his ability to speak.

Suddenly, there was a flurry of sounds as several winged shadows glided overhead, briefly revealed in the light. About twenty demons with particularly intense auras were passing overhead. Some of these wore what appeared to be gold and jewels, though these could have only been shapes made in the same way as soul weapons.

Other demons wore various garbs that Dufaii did not recognize, but each outfit seems to feature a different symbol, more intricately crafted pendants and charms that were like the totems that the human shamans of old had used to represent the gods. Still other demons wore very little, and had very human shapes with exaggerated genitals, breasts, hips, and other body parts. There were others as well … in forms and in clothing for which Dufaii could not begin to imagine the purpose.

“Ranchers … of the damned,” Ammon said, his psychic tone hushed and reserved. The way he said it was certain, not as any sort of guess. Of course, that made sense … he was the one who had discovered that human souls could be brought to this place. There was a haunted element in his eyes, his face, his aura. How he carried his tall frail body like there was not much weight or substance to it. Of course, his intelligence and even his sense of determination were still there, under it all, in the way he quietly observed and understood with a reserved confidence.

“They are the ones who will cultivate corrupt human souls?” Dufaii asked with his own psychic abilities, working not to carry detectable judgment nor patronization in his mind.

“They will try,” Ammon replied tiredly. “I think it is all very heavy handed; a more subtle approach would accomplish more. For now, however, I think they are expressing the darkness that this place has branded them with. They want to go out as djinn, pretending to grant wishes while punishing the wisher; succubi and incubi, corrupting mortals with temptations of sex, and malevolent spirits, who pretend to be wielded by those humans using magic to cower others into submission. In time, they will get these fantastical urges out of their systems and learn better methodologies for mass corruption.”

Dufaii nodded.

“So, what do you truly intend for us to do when we are gone from here?” Ammon asked, still having not stopped grimacing from what they’d spoken of before.

Dufaii raised an eyebrow at him.

“You don’t truly mean to-” Ammon began and then stopped when he looked back. “You do … you want to go after the gods. Does that mean that the voices have gotten to you, or is it a meditated desire to end your immortal life?”

Dufaii shook his head and said, “I mean to destroy the gods, as many as I can.” His announcement was met with a moment of silence.

“So pure insanity,” Ammon said with a nod, and then raised his hand defensively. “Please, take no offense. To the contrary, I asked because I’ve given careful thought to my own destruction. And of all the way I’ve considered, this way seems the most plausible.”

“I don’t plan to die,” Dufaii said and looked at Ammon for a moment to communicate his sincerity.

“Fair,” Ammon said with a smile that was more haggard than joyous. “Well then, I’d love nothing more than to join your pursuit to destroy a god or two before our inevitable demise. Further, I’ll give it my best go of it, on my honor.”

Dufaii nodded, satisfied with this. Though he now wondered if, subconsciously, his efforts weren’t also self-destructive in nature. Perhaps, deep down, he also sought an honorable way out. On the other hand, every part of him knew that there was no true future for his kind in this prison—with blood and carcasses of the damned, or without. Their only hope was to find a place on the Earth, something that would never happen if the gods still roamed it. And, if nothing else, he knew that Hades had sanctioned his mission. He knew that Hades would never have allowed him to go forward to certain and pointless destruction that would not benefit her people. Dufaii told himself that this was the most important thing to remember; it would serve as his guiding star, his assurance and his reminder of purpose in the dire times ahead.

Together, Dufaii and Ammon continued to walk until into the valley between the two cliffs. It wasn’t long after that that they reached a dead end, with only a small cave entrance up on a ledge that would have never been found by any demon dragging their hand along the rock from the ground. Dufaii and Ammon briefly took flight and landed on the ledge to enter the cavern. Orange light flickered far on the other end of a long straight tunnel, which the two of them followed for another half-hour before they reached their destination.

It was a small open area, not even as big as one of Michael’s barracks, with a pool of what looked like water in the center.

An angel stood with his sword drawn. He had pale skin, a sharp nose, and a look of disgust planted on his narrow face. The angel spread his red wings and said with his mouth, “The Lightbringer has petitioned your release and the Creator has granted it, though you do not deserve this mercy.”

Dufaii clenched his hand into a fist.

“Let’s get moving,” Ammon said and put a hand on Dufaii’s shoulder. Then, loudly enough for the angel to hear, he verbally added, “You won’t have to worry about him. I have a feeling that somebody will quickly grow weary of his attitude.”

The angel lifted his sword and opened his mouth to say something.

However, Ammon lifted a hand to cut him off. “Don’t forget the truce, loyalist.” He then drew his own sword in a clearly non-threatening way and dragged it across the pool of water in the center of the room. He stepped into this silver light, which swallowed him in a slash of dull light.

Dufaii stepped up to the tiny body of water, illuminated by the orange flame of a nearby living torch. The mortal soul who was on fire writhed silently, impaled on a carved stone pike. With their vocal cords and muscles eternally burning, there would be nothing this soul could do to communicate or try to escape. The smell was pungent a charred, like a sweet meat cooked to death and beyond any possibility of consumption.

Dufaii had not spent much time among mortals, unlike a few angels, so he did not feel any sort of profound empathy for this mortal’s pain. However, he did feel a kind of sympathy, like watching a defenseless animal suffer. No, that wasn’t even it, really. These souls were corrupted, the worst of the worst, no better than the guard in Heaven. What he didn’t like was how sadistic it felt to benefit so directly from this torment. He … wanted to believe that demonkind was better than this.

More angels stood at the far side of the room, glaring silently at him as he pondered. They were Heaven’s method of keeping a tally of all demons who roamed the Earth, whether they were approved for leave, and what they were supposed to accomplish.

“Sometimes … I feel like I deserve the same,” Ammon said, looking at the mortal burning on the wall. He seemed practiced in not perceiving the loyalists guarding their prison.

“There is no deserve,” Dufaii replied instinctively, chastising himself a bit after he did. Who was he to be giving anyone any advice? He … who didn’t even want to let his closest allies in close enough to see the pitiful state he was in. Part of Dufaii wanted to jump into the water now, run, and put this nightmare behind him.

Of course, Dufaii could never do that. He would do his duty and create an earth that was safe for his kind. Yet something was stopping him … probably the same thing that Ammon had just expressed. He didn’t feel like he deserved to escape his brethren’s suffering. However, the only way he knew to help was outside of this prison. If they were ever to make their escape, the demons would need to know how to kill the gods. Preferably, most of the gods would be wiped out as soon as plans for escape were made.

That left Dufaii in a position to either punish himself alongside them to satiate his emotional need to punish himself or to leave. He’d already made his decision. And he continued to repeat to himself what he had told Ammon. There was no ‘deserve’, there was only the situation at hand. Still, Dufaii felt compelled to wait in this prison a little longer, to punish himself for leaving them. He needed to hurt for it, whether there was such a thing as ‘deserve’ or not.

“I could have stopped that human’s evil,” Ammon said, his voice strained, though his physical condition did not cause it. It was his emotions that were threatening to cut off his words. “He sold other people and did terrible things to them to advance in his primitive society. But I could have stopped him, could have revealed the nature of the universe, I could have killed him before his soul had been fully corrupted, or I could have taught him a better way.”

Dufaii turned, shielding his emotions and showing nothing but a front of cold efficiency. “Do not shed a tear for those who are lower than parasites, who harm unnecessarily for their own gain. And do not compare yourself to them for doing what you must to keep our people alive. This wretch was a slaver, a traitor to his species. Any being of worth would have died immediately rather than to do what he did.You … you have merely played the role of hunter, rancher, and butcher for a starving people.”

Ammon paused for a moment and then nodded and lowered his gaze.

Dufaii thought perhaps he should say more. So he added, “Your ability to have empathy is what lets you know that you are different than them. We will have to do a great many terrible things soon. But our cruelty will only come when necessary and never for just our gain.”

Ammon nodded again, and the frantic energy coming from his aura like a shower of sparks settled a bit. “Are you … ready to go?”

Dufaii nodded, thought he wasn’t sure that he was.

“Okay,” Ammon said and prepared to dive. “This is different than the way we used to travel by water. The barrier is vast and difficult to cross unless you know the way. You can follow me.”

“Alright.”

Ammon swan dived into the water and Dufaii followed. The water, after so many years, caused Dufaii to feel something akin to shock. His senses overwhelmed him with fiery pain, and he saw flashes of light that he knew had to be coming solely from his own perception. He couldn’t move, at first. Then, he saw and felt Ammon grasp his wrist and begin to pull him deeper into the darkness.

After a moment, Dufaii regained his senses and began to move of his own accord, the sensory overload quickly fading. They were moving toward one of many hundred lights that looked like stars in the darkness. One light, the one they were headed toward, grew steadily larger until it suddenly enveloped them.

Then, Dufaii felt his body being thrown by a force like buoyancy up to the surface of real water. They were in the mortal realm.

Water permeated the air and splashed in the muddy water around them. The air felt like fire against his skin, as the moisture hit his skin and was absorbed as if he were a living sponge. Dufaii screamed a breathless and mostly soundless scream of unbearable pain. This, however, turned out to be a mistake as he choked on the humid air. He collapsed and fell onto his back so that he was looking at the star-speckled, beautiful sky above.

They were free … and their work would soon begin.

-O-

Hades,

I … don’t think I can send this letter but … I feel compelled to write it anyways. At first, I couldn’t make myself pick up a quill to reply to your letters at all. I … couldn’t handle engaging with anyone involved in the memory of it all. Even thinking about writing to you felt like opening my guard and allowing myself to feel like the torment, the guilt, and the fear. To relive it all like it was new.

Now that I can finally write a letter … I still can’t make myself deliver it to you. I’ve nearly handed one of my letters to Kueng every time he’s come to deliver official correspondence. Then, I feel dizzy and everything inside me screams that you would never want to speak to me. I become scared, and I put the letter aside at the last moment.

While I left the prison, it didn’t leave me. I still hear the voices of condemnation that filled that place … that drove so many of us to become lost in the darkness. It’s like my mind only works through the context of my trauma. I … don’t know how you managed to stay so strong. Pushing me to leave while you took care of our brothers and sisters. You were the strength of our people, and you always will be.

I miss you, and I’m so sorry,

Dufaii

Personal Letter from Dufaii to Hades 811 – Intercepted from the trash, as became Kueng’s routine once he discovered the existence of these letters, and delivered to General Hades.

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