Silent Suffering


        As Dante tells us in his comedy, his soul; before entering hell, finds itself in a forest where he is attacked by beasts, and Virgil saves him; and without going to much detail and ending up stealing his work, he follows him, from there they pass to the vestibule which is separated from hell by the Acheron as it is said in the third verse. In this way, all souls come to hell; even those who are still alive, their bodies are possessed by demons while their souls begin their torture –this is a special treatment for the very wickedly wicked.
        Like Dante, the souls; to enter the vestibule, they must pass through the same forest where they will be devoured by the beasts –leaving marks on them with which they will be judged for their sins (depending on which beast or beasts attacked them) and will be taken to their respective punishment, where they will serve penitence for their respective crimes, and where they will spend one or more eternities before becoming citizens of hell.
        This forest: which is not necessarily a forest, takes the form of any other land –using this allegory only for your easy understanding of how this place actually works, you can imagine an ocean; and the soul swimming to the shore –you can imagine a war field and the soul hiding in a trench.
        One way or another they always find their way to the Acheron. A tunnel, a door, a hole –they enter to protect themselves from the beasts that attack them and come to the realisation that they are no longer in the world of the living. Many realise this much sooner, even trying to change their course back to where they came from but are always greeted with the apparent reality that they never did; as if they had walked in circles, or rather, never turned back at all. Some take moments to come to terms with what happened; others –especially those who died suddenly and without warning –struggle longer to go back and realise how they came to this place.
        Now that the soul is passing through the door, imagine an office, four walls and a scarlet red ceiling; a colour that gives the illusion that everything is covered in velvet. Imagine that the floor is made of cold, grey, dead, volcanic stone. A dry wooden desk; taken from a dead tree with a matching chair, a dry plant and an incredible agglomeration of papers on the sides; on these papers are faces, names, sorrows and crimes; like a repository of everyone who has passed through that door and those yet to pass. There is also a signposting of unwelcomed people, angels; archangels, God himself, among others, and at the end; Dante and Virgil. Inside there is no one but two infernal creatures; two lesser demons who, with serious and stoic looks pass judgement and punishment. As you enter, they ask for your name and search for you among the piles of paperwork; they list each of your sins and report your punishment to the second demon who listens attentively for the final verdict.
        Many try to escape at any point in the process, they try to turn around and find that the door through which they entered is no longer there. But that is not enough to stop many who resist arrest, who try to dig where the door used to be, who try to attack the demons and even use God’s name in vain trying to chase them away, they have to pay for that too, those who brazenly deny they have done wrong and claim they do not belong here, while begging God for forgiveness, but it is too late.
        “A thousand deaths” declares the first creature who dwells in that place “A thousand deaths will bring them to his senses”, and the second complies with the order, which with dark magic destroys the soul.
        The soul then feels true death, the last, the end of the existence of the soul itself; a thousand times in a single instant. The pain and agony are such that every soul without exception loses all sanity and conscience as it is led to its deserved punishment, its gaze lost and its voice muffled –it denies no more, fights no more, accepting its new reality.
        These are the souls that the executioners most enjoy torturing, the ones who try and try to run towards the light of salvation and scream and moan and weep as they are burned by the eternal flames. On the other hand, those who take their punishment with pride and as a reward, are received with mixed opinions, there are those who applaud their sins and their pride; there are others who prefer to ignore them for it is not so much fun to harass and punish them; lastly, there are those who invite them to continue sinning; even during their punishment, for what more can they extend the pain when there is nothing more eternal than eternity itself. Needless to say, many souls do not hesitate twice to indulge in sin once again.
        The first creature became known among the souls of hell as “The Secretary” and refer to them as a she, despite lacking feminine features, their voice was for many, less imposing than the voice of their companion, in addition to the idea of many eras; where it was common to see women carrying out similar tasks. And the second as “The Doorkeeper” –this because of the job they performed, opening the gates of hell to make way for the soul. With no real names to go with them, they are only Gamigin’s familiars, invocations. Gamigin is a grand marquis who keeps count of the souls that enter hell, keeping track of every being who crosses the gates to hell, reminding all who cross it of one thing:
        “THIS IS THE WAY TO THE SUFFERING CITY, THIS IS THE WAY TO THE ETERNAL PAIN, THIS IS THE WAY TO THE CONDEMNED WASTELAND. JUSTICE MOVED HERE HIGH ARCHITECT. THE DIVINE POWER MADE ME, THE HIGHEST KNOWLEDGE AND THE FIRST LOVE. BEFORE THIS GATE THERE WAS NO CREATED THING BUT THE ETERNAL AND ETERNALLY PUNISHING. LEAVE, YE WHO ENTER HERE, ALL HOPE.”
        Here we can pause to explain the favour Crocell did for Paimon, requesting a soul to skip punishment and go directly to becoming one of the damned. Even though he is a king; and clearly superior to Gamigin, the Marquis’ accounts are reported directly to Lucifer -and Paimon being Lucifer’s most subservient, could not afford to be held accountable for such a whim, having to sneak it under his nose. Paimon only described this soul as a warranty to which he gave no further explanation, giving him upon arrival important abilities that he could only use when Paimon so wished.
        When souls serve their sentence and become citizens of hell, they are known as damned and get a form according to what their soul truly is. They also regain mortality. While in their punishment they are immortal; for they must suffer all their sorrow without perishing in the process –but once damned, their soul becomes susceptible to destruction once again, and all that is after this death is nothingness. Many souls after this suffer different fates; those who were famous in the world of the living often find new fame in hell, and this keeps them safe for a while. Others run and hide in fear of their whole new world and the possibility of disappearing forever, there are those who kept their fighting spirit and somehow learn to defend themselves, often with magic that they got somehow, or spells demons give them as a gift in order to use them on other dammed, or for mere entertainment. Some even get weapons. And finally, there are those who simply wish to return to a “normal” life and make hell as close to home as possible.
        We pause again to explain the job of the presidents discussed by Paimon and Crocell, to stop souls from gaining too much power; or discovering problematic ways of using what they know in a way that could jeopardise the infernal hierarchy.
        It had already happened that such convicts organised themselves and in greater numbers and stepped outside their limits to cause terror.
        This is also why a purge was created to help eliminate this overpopulation. Led by Adam the first man, together with a legion of those who were called exorcists of these souls. Who every cycle of 365 infernal days, go out to hunt the damned and anyone who gets in their way.
        This flow of souls tends to have ups and downs depending on how violent Earth was at the time; recently they had had an overflow of people who died burned alive and others killed in combat, to say a few. In due time there would be an overflow of the damned.
        So, the job of the presidents and the exorcists was constantly the same: while one hunted for possible future threats, the other took care of what remained.
        Moreover, with the death of God, leaving the archangels in charge and the angels and saints striving to maintain faith on Earth, the flow of evilness was growing greater and worse. Even cherubim and other blessed beings of paradise were doing their part to try to bring good to Earth and to carry on the divine designs; but it was clear that at every moment hopes were diminishing, and faith was coming to an end.
        This information crossed Paimon’s mind as he ate breakfast in silence with his wife, Octavia, who was also silent and thoughtful.
        
        ***
        
        —You have not yet told me why you require a warranty, your highness. —Crocell asked Paimon once Theia and Octavia had left—.
        The same imps who had received Paimon at the door, were now picking up the leftovers from breakfast, gradually leaving only a table with wine and two glasses; and the chairs on which Crocell and Paimon sat. The breeze gently and faintly ruffled the tablecloth. The grass danced to the rhythm of the beat, and the background sounds that completed the ambience of the house continued their tune while very faintly the laughter and babbling of Stolas could be heard as he played in the proximity of the two. Ignorant to what his father was talking about.
        —It’s none of your business, just do as you have done so far, and you’ll get your reward.
        Crocell was still loyal to Paimon and his orders, but inside, his ambition was also throbbing, always waiting for great rewards from Paimon that never came to be. Always waiting to be rewarded.
        This caused him hatred which he had to keep to himself if he wished to avoid Paimon’s rage, but which steadily accumulated anyway as the king’s demands grew in difficulty and ambition.
        Theia often calmed him by reminding him that even if there was no direct collection of debt, the fact that they were close to him put them in a higher status than others; sometimes the contacts were worth more in themselves than for what they directly provided. But Crocell wanted real power.
        —It is only that I find it hard to believe that there is anything for you to guard against. —Crocell insisted—.
        Paimon simply responded with an incredulous laugh. He knew better than anyone the nature of demons. It was clear that Crocell underestimated him.
        —Leave my business to myself, and you take care of the presidents. Your son-in-law must have some Counts who are halfway competent to establish order among all these good-for-nothings. I don’t want another Dracula if your memory doesn’t fail you as much as your judgement.
        —Your Highness with all due respect Vlad was a direct whim of Lucifer, he himself gave him a Necronomicon and I quote; to see what happens.
        And so it was, even the highest demons like Lucifer participated in petty misdeeds. Though being the greatest of them all and the reason they even had their positions of power; none dared to say that Vlad’s case was his fault. And Paimon was the first in line to defend him.
        —That didn’t exclude the good-for-nothings Valac and Amy from doing their jobs. And yet they failed to stop him. Grateful they should be that he took care of his toy himself. I shouldn’t have to remind you of the obvious. If they fail; the knights fail, if they fail; the earls fail, and from them the marquises fail, and then you and the rest of the dukes fail. The difference is that I simply do not intend to have you fail and subsequently make me fail.
        Paimon was very clear that he would not allow his image to be damaged, his status being the most important thing to him in order to carry out his service to Lucifer as best as possible.
        —These gangs, their groups will be neutralised. —Crocell assured him—.
        —Let it be before the end of this cycle. I’ll show Adam that we don’t need his stupid team.
        The conversation continued beyond what would be of importance for the moment. Strategies, plans for confrontation, search and seizure –they would only take up space in your mind and dull your reading. In the end, as much as Crocell preferred to blame others for incompetence, following Paimon’s orders was something he had to do regardless of if he wanted to keep him as an ally.
        —What about your wife? Do you also want her out before the next extermination?
        —You will deal with my wife when I tell you to. It will be up to her if she wants to do something stupid. It’s not too late not to make a mistake.
        —Your Highness Octavia is not only beautiful, but also perceptive. She will surely make the right decision.
        
        ***
        
        Paimon took another bite as he watched his wife carefully; she looked away as if he were a stranger to her. Octavia could not get the conversation she had with Theia the day before, out of her mind.
        
        ***
        
        —How is little Andrealphus handling having a sister? —Octavia asked Theia—.
        Theia, at the time of the question, was showing her a photograph of two little demons, about the same age.
        Near them were also a few glasses of the highest quality red wine on a light wooden table, sitting on a couch that could well accommodate four humans, but was barely enough space for such large demons. The metal frame with cushioned armchairs to avoid the discomfort and stiffness of steel, of a look and comfort befitting someone of high society.
        —As well as a child handle no longer being the only one getting attention from their parents. —Theia replied with a chuckle—. Stella looks beautiful, doesn’t she?
        The photographs of the time, even in a place like hell, were somewhat primitive and lacked colour, leaving the entire image in black and white with a sepia tint covering the entire paper. This image shows two small demons.
        Andrealphus, the elder brother. With the same anthropomorphic appearance as the rest of the Goetia, he looked like a white peacock.
        In his arms he carried a baby; Stella, who in her case was a swan –barely discernible because of her young age. Because the age of these two, the difference in size was almost minimal. Andrealphus was holding her close to his chest and her tiny arms looked as if they were about to slip off along with the rest of her body if he wasn’t careful enough. The picture was certainly adorable.
        —How many cycles do they have? —Octavia asked—.
        —Andrealphus will be 5 very soon and Stella will be 2, she was born almost at the same time as the little prince.
        —I’d love for Stolas to meet them one day, to have some friends to play with. —Octavia watched Stolas from afar with pain in her eyes—.
        —Well, I’m sure you are more than welcomed to their mansion. Or they could meet here the next time they come.
        —I look forward to it. —Octavia smiled, but her voice was melancholic—.
        —What’s wrong?
        Unlike Paimon, who referred to Crocell as his friend, but treated him as his tool –Theia and Octavia got along better, and their friendship was somewhat more real. And they could be somewhat more honest with each other. There was even a strong inconsistency between speaking to each other formally and informally. Octavia was sometimes her highness and at other times she was simply Octavia.
        This friendship was the only source of entertainment for the two of them whenever their husbands met to talk, and they spent the time relating gossip and somewhat peculiar situations between them about their daily lives or what they found out about each other. Together they had lived through special times, and difficult times. Their friendship was strong.
        —Paimon slept with my sister, I don’t even know who to be madder at. What’s the point of concubines if he’s going to go to the trouble of doing something he shouldn’t be doing?
        —And does he know that you know?
        —We fought about this last night; I suspected it before; but when I found them out... none of them seemed to mind. I’m sure they went on even after I left. —Octavia paused for breath—. You expect someone who won’t shut up about Lucifer –to follow his orders to the T.
        When Lucifer gave the order that hell would be adapted to man’s virtue, all the demons were surprised; they even thought it was a joke. It was incredible to see one who sanctified evil, point out to all a new and contradictory doctrine. “Adapt the nature of man, show the attainment of true virtue” were the exact words Lucifer cycled back after the holy war was over. Many, such as Paimon, Asmodeus, Beleth, and among other kings and princes took it upon themselves to enforce this new commission –though secretly one by one, they were quietly breaking it. These were the beginnings of the new age of hell that would take over the reins similar to human evolution and take this society-like form.
        Some thought Lucifer knew that his command was half-heartedly obeyed, others thought he did not and were even tempted to betray crimes or use them as tools of manipulation. But many times, those same people ended up dead or regretted at the very least, their plans for reasons I’m sure you can guess. There was also no evidence that Lucifer ordered any punishment; and others who punished themselves or were punished by other demons saw their misfortune as a direct order from him.
        No one knew the whole truth and Lucifer had remained silent about it –besides no one dared to question it, from an objective point of view, such like ours, it almost seemed as if hell had become, literally, Earth.
        At that moment and much like the human culture of the time; Paimon and the other kings, as well as others in the Goetia hierarchy –had concubines. One, two, three or more, and they were kept secret –and not anyone could be part of this harem, on the contrary, it was almost as difficult as being part of the Goetia itself and they were kept under the same rules as the others in royalty; like all the other spheres previously mentioned. Therefore, for Paimon to skip this process was rightly seen by Octavia as complete infidelity and an even worse betrayal since it was with her sister. The same could not be said of concubines, however, for being below marriage it was not really possible to be unfaithful to them. And just as humans used these women as peace tribute, bargaining chips or symbols of power, in hell they were of similar value –as gifts, tribute or bargain. There were even cases where they were equivalent to a coin payment for a favour or debt. Only a small number of people knew about them and in general they were kept in the palace, forbidden from leaving.
        —What happens now?
        —When I mentioned Lucifer and what he’d think if he found out... he hit me.
        —Sometimes it is better not to say anything, his highness Lucifer will surely find out of his own accord and give just punishment, especially since he is his greatest follower. —Theia took her hand and caressed it—. Let us not lose hope in his justice.
        —But if I say nothing, won’t that somehow be complicit? To be permissive would truly be to follow the human virtue Lucifer asked us to follow? —Octavia sounded concerned—.
        —Perhaps what he needs is reason enough not to turn to someone else. —Theia replied—.
        Although Theia told her this with the intention of inspiring her to be a better wife, Octavia felt the pressure on her, for she now believed it was her fault –and that guilt bothered her.
        —What he needs is to learn to control himself. —Octavia was now replying in an annoyed tone—. And I’m sure Lucifer would enjoy hearing about it.
        —Octavia, you know you can’t give him away. —Theia advised her—.
        
        ***
        
        Octavia wanted so badly to show how insulted she was with Paimon, the sight of little Stolas was the only thing that kept her somewhat at bay from carrying out her threat. Seeing the little prince made her worry about his future, for she knew that leaving him in Paimon’s hands would be a lousy idea and he would end up raising him in his own image; as always, getting his own way. And Theia’s words, “Maybe what he needs is reason enough not to turn to someone else,” made her even angrier. How could this possibly be her fault? If she could blame her sister for not respecting her marriage or Paimon for the same reason; it’s not as if his penis took control of his mind and body. For Octavia there was no way to see herself as the victim –and yet she felt she had some fault. Maybe it would be worth it to give that possibility a chance and keep Stolas safe. Maybe it was up to her to make the change. She saw herself capable of extending the charade a little longer for her son’s sake, but she was sure of one thing; she would bring justice on her own.
        —For Satan’s sake, get over it, woman. —Paimon commented—.
        The comment only annoyed Octavia more, and she left her breakfast half eaten and retreated from the dining room. This did not faze Paimon; and with an evil gesture he simply finished eating while Octavia went to see Stolas.
        Paimon was left alone then, gazing with discomfort at the table; beautifully constructed, with enough room for about 10 entities and plenty of room for all the dishes needed for a banquet, exquisite wood and hand carved details of stars and steles. The morning sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows, illuminating and partially colouring the king’s plate of chunks of meat and some vegetables. Another ray of light illuminated Octavia’s plate, which like his was half-eaten; the difference being that this one was practically intact –if only for a few nibbled pieces. Paimon stared at the windows; designed with his seal and other symbolism representative of his entity.
        With an angry deep breath, he finished eating.
        Stolas was in his room as he had eaten breakfast with the babysitters since Paimon had not yet given permission for him to sit with them to eat.
        His stuffed rabbit sitting next to him –the size of the stuffed animal and the almost identical size of Stolas was enough to bring tenderness to Octavia’s heart.
        —Hello, my fair prince. —Octavia said as she took the first steps towards him—.
        Stolas mumbled squeaks as he dragged a smaller, mouse-shaped stuffed animal across the carpet, pecking at it from time to time. Rym watched him from a safe distance, so as not to disturb him or be a new target for his pecks.
        —Your Highness. —Rym immediately referred to Octavia—.
        —You may go, Rym. —Octavia gave the order in a monotonous tone of voice—. Resume your duties at lunchtime.
        Rym didn’t say a word and left the room with a lowered gaze and a quick step.
        Stolas reacted to Octavia’s voice as the stuffed mouse dangled from his beak in a somewhat funny way, she approached him while letting out a tender laugh and Stolas immediately let go of his toy; stretching out his hands to hug her, he was asking for her attention. Octavia, touched by her little one, held him and lent one of her hands for him to take. His small but strong hand grasped his mother’s fingers and immediately tried to bite them, unable to do any harm.
        Then she left the room with Stolas in her hands, they went to the main garden; at the entrance of the palace, which was full of life and colour.
        A stone path divided the gardens in two to allow proper access to the garden not only for the kings, but also for the gardeners who maintained it on a daily basis.
        Stolas loved to see the plants and flowers, in Crocell’s house, in his own palace –wherever there were flowers he could not resist looking for them. Although at his young age he only knew how to take them or eat them.
        Paimon and Octavia being kings, the security at their palace was double or triple that at Crocell’s mansion, not necessarily in numbers, but in strength. And the risk to the poor fool who had the idea of trying to infiltrate or rob them would be better left undescribed.
        But even with this fearful façade Stolas seemed unfazed by the fact that his mother passed by lesser demons and hellhounds with marks and wounds. As if being with her made him feel safe and secure.
        Octavia led Stolas through the winding paths of the palace gardens. The air was thick with the scent of sulphur and ash, but Octavia seemed unfazed by the surroundings, the plants swaying back and forth as if to attract your attention with their dance and colours. She pointed to various flowers and plants as they walked, naming each one and telling Stolas what it represented.
        —This one is called Bloodroot. —She said, pointing to a small red flower—. It represents courage and strength.
        The flower of Bloodroot has been used in Native American medicine as a treatment for a variety of ailments, including coughs, colds and sore throats. It was also used as a poultice for wounds and as a stimulant to help people recover from illness. These medicinal properties have given the plant a reputation for courage and strength.
        —It also represents protection. Some human tribes believe it has protective properties and use it to ward off evil spirits or negative energy. —Octavia continued—. Or new beginnings. They are the first to bloom in spring.
        Octavia took one and showed it to Stolas.
        —Others associate it with love, using it as a paint on men who are looking for a bride.
        Stolas listened attentively, his big red eyes taking in the beauty that surrounded them. He tried to eat the plant, but Octavia stopped him, and instead placed it on her head, Stolas immediately reaching for it again, stretching his hands towards Octavia’s face.
        —It looks good on mum, don’t you think?
As they walked, Octavia and Stolas stopped to admire a patch of yellow flowers. The petals were soft and delicate, and seemed to glow with an inner light. Octavia knelt down and ran her fingers over the petals, smiling softly.
        These are Lightblossoms. —She said—. They represent the innocence and beauty that still exists within us, even in the midst of darkness.
        Stolas looked at Octavia in amazement as she continued to try to disperse her mind by giving him botany lessons, so they walked on through the gardens while she continued to explain the names of the flowers and their meanings and theological value to human culture. Step by step she was giving up her sorrows about her problems with Paimon and exchanging them for her fears about Stolas. She hoped that by compensating for those she could turn a blind eye to those of her marriage.
        The good thing about all this was Stolas, who was enjoying the beauty of the various plants and flowers that surrounded them. Octavia then stopped in front of a group of small purple flowers.
        —These are called Deadly Nightshade. They represent danger and treachery.
        Stolas understood roughly what his mother was teaching him, hearing the word danger immediately made him worry, hugging her chest; not crying or complaining, just hiding his head in her.
        Octavia saw tenderness again in Stolas’ small gestures, continuing her lessons.
        She then pointed to a large, thorny bush.
        —This is an Ironrose. It represents the strength and endurance we must possess. Roses symbolise love, and these, which look like they are made of steel, show how strong this love can be.
        Stolas eyed the bush warily, noting the sharp thorns that covered its branches; he knew that touching them would hurt him. He wondered how anyone could find beauty in such a dangerous plant, but he trusted his mother and thus lost his fear.
        Finally, when they reached the end of the garden path, Octavia stopped in front of a tall, majestic tree. Its branches were covered with shining leaves, and its trunk seemed to glow with an inner light.
        —This one is called a heartwood. —Octavia said, her voice soft and reverent—. It represents the beauty and strength of our inner self.
        Stolas looked at the tree, feeling a sense of awe and reverence. Although he didn’t understand the feeling at the time; to help you get an idea, he felt tiny compared to the tree, but not because of its height; but because of its majesty. Stolas did not yet know the idea of art and beauty, but he could feel it in that tree.
        Try to remember the first time you felt warmth, love, fear, courage. The first time you felt compared to the vast reality around you and saw how tiny you were. Even if you were a baby unaware of these concepts; your heart already knew. His too.
        When they had finished touring the garden, Octavia and Stolas returned inside the palace, Paimon was no longer in the dining room –Octavia didn’t seem to mind, but her mind told her that he was probably doing something he shouldn’t, and that boiled her blood. Walking through the corridors Octavia looked at three large painted portraits of her son, commissioned by her to commemorate Stolas’ growth, almost like nowadays when a parent keeps pictures of their children in an album or frames them and places them in the living room. Stained-glass windows like those in the dining room illuminated the hallway and the paintings, but unlike the dining room -here the infernal sunlight penetrated almost completely, illuminating everything in its path.
        Stolas watched the paintings with her somewhat distractedly; unable to understand why they were there, even waiting (turning to look at her) for his mother to see him or say something to him.
        Without a word at all she walked on with Stolas in her arms until they reached the palace library –a gigantic, vast room, with equally imposing and gigantic bookcases. Great works by various writers in every corner, both human and demon. Writings published since the invention of the printing press. Human and divine knowledge; even condemned writers; now citizens of hell.
        Many of them inhabitants of the first circle; The Limbo. Place of the unbaptised and virtuous pagans. It was no surprise that many of them were philosophers such as Homer, Horace, Socrates, etc. But also, many scientists, biologists, and more.
        People who denied or rejected the existence of God and sought the answers to life. Even in the afterlife and unable to carry their knowledge into the world of the living, they continued to cultivate it for others who were part of the stream of the damned who chose to live a normal life in hell. These books became a guide for them.
        Paimon collected all the books that existed as part of his work; being able to give to the one who invokes him what he desires; he himself needed to be aware of every new revelation. There was no published book that he did not have and hidden deep down -books never published and yet to be published. Paimon’s library was, if anything, the most complete after Lucifer’s.
        As Octavia sat down, Stolas observed the books with detail and curiosity, though he was already two cycles (years) old and recognised the things in his house; to him everything was always new, a new detail, a new colour, a new scent, and so on. Always with that spirit of wanting to discover; to observe and learn that he seemed to have inherited from his father; that, although he did not show it, he found personal pleasure in knowledge, only Paimon had already absorbed so much that he became obstinate.
        The scent of the wood was bohemian, and the mahogany colours combined with the low lighting, as the library was on a lower floor and the sunlight did not reach it so well, gave the appearance of calm and secrecy. The oil lamps shone with their orange flames on the books, and the sound of Octavia’s claws echoed with a very faint reverberation. Bringing altogether a sense of calmness to Stolas that allowed him to bring out his sense of curiosity.
        A wooden chair of the same dark colour as the bookcases; with a crimson red armchair was waiting to be used next to a round table, the place where Paimon would normally sit to read when he was not in his studio.
        With her magic, Octavia levitated a book towards them entitled: “The Botanical Gardens of the World: A Guide to the Plants and Flowers of Every Continent”. A book that was never published on earth.
        Octavia opened the book and began flipping through it with Stolas, pointing out various plants and flowers as she turned the pages. Stolas stared at the illustrations, his eyes sparkling with excitement and wonder.
        —These are roses. —Octavia showed him—. Humans have cultivated them for centuries; they symbolise love and beauty.
        Octavia continued flipping through the pages, showing Stolas various plants and flowers. She spoke of their medicinal properties, their cultural importance and their role in the natural world.
        Little by little Stolas’ eyes grew heavy. With her magic, Octavia returned the book to its place -she had noticed this and finding herself unable to disturb his sleep simply leaned back comfortably in the seat to rest with him.
        
        ***
        
        Octavia had barely eaten breakfast that morning due to her faded mood, the sound of her stomach had woken Stolas and he had woken his mother accordingly –it was late afternoon and lunchtime was approaching, around 2 p.m.
        The little prince was also hungry again. Octavia knew this as a maternal instinct. Recovering a little energy with this little nap, she got up and made her way to the dining room, and this time without leaving Stolas with the babysitters.
        When they reached the dining room, Paimon was already at the table talking to a servant, an imp who dressed like a waiter, black penguin-style clothes, small horns, a long tail and hooves so black they seemed to be wearing slippers, but neither Octavia nor Stolas could hear what he was saying, the servant simply stepped aside.
        And after asking for a highchair or stool to sit him next to her, Octavia sat down and sat Stolas down.
        In those days, it was very important for anyone sitting at the table to know the correct etiquette when eating. Normally, children did not share this place until they were old enough to learn this etiquette, although it was also the job of the wet-nurses and the mother, above all, to teach these rules of behaviour. Octavia had decided on the way to the dining room that it was best to start these lessons at once.
        —Octavia, what is the meaning of this? —Asked Paimon, somewhat surprised—.
        —I think Stolas is ready to start getting used to eating with us.
        The upbringing of children was heavily involved in the mother’s duties, Paimon also knew this and abused this in turn, always letting all the blame fall on her. But he did not expect Octavia to be assertive about this, at least not as was about to happen.
        —At his age and he won’t even talk. —Paimon scoffed—. And you want to teach him manners?
        —Maybe it’s like you were saying yesterday. He simply has nothing to say. —Octavia responded sarcastically to his comment as she wrapped a handkerchief around Stolas’ neck—.
        —You’d better hope so.
        The waiter felt the aura of the moment heavy as a thick fog, walking slowly backwards so as not to be seen as he hid from the two.
        The food for the two kings was excellent, and high in variety and quality. The meat was tender and fell apart in their beaks, juicy and full of flavour. The wine aged for eternities had the richest and deepest flavour. The aromas that mingled were enchanting to anyone who could smell them. It was enjoyed and eaten by both, especially Octavia who had barely eaten her breakfast.
        Stolas also enjoyed eating with his mother, while another part of him suffered the martyrdom of being with his father. And it was not that Stolas did not love Paimon, but for him, his father was almost a stranger, just someone who judged him while he tried to get his attention; like any little boy; like any son.
        As he took a bite of his food with glee, he then took it calmly and warily while trying not to watch Paimon’s reaction. Octavia tried to be the balance by showering him with sneaky compliments in an attempt to boost Stolas’ confidence, but Paimon’s piercing gaze judging every bite gave the poor prince no quarter.
        Young children were first taught to eat with their hands, and little by little they learned to use cutlery, this also applied to Stolas, who in his case still used his hands to eat and sometimes peck, a habit at his young age.
        But Paimon wanted him ready at once, he had neither the time nor the patience, he wanted him to be a son worthy of his own. And though he questioned the speed of his learning and how patient Octavia was with him; even he knew that, when it came to parenting, she was the one in charge –he could only judge her with his eyes and insult Stolas as an indirect insult to Octavia.
        As they left the table, Paimon went back to his studio to continue his work, and Octavia was to attend to her other responsibilities. Until dinner time –Stolas would again be left under the servants’ care.
        
        ***
        
        Consistent with the talk with Crocell the day before, Paimon reviewed the reports of the presidents and knights who daily cleansed the circles of hell, analysed the performance of the heralds, marquises, and dukes. And with this he judged the rest of the kings and their service with Lucifer. His great power and knowledge allowed him to ingest hours of information in these writings almost immediately and allowed him to plan and execute strategies to rise above the rest and even take the glory of the success of these campaigns. For Paimon, standing above the rest was his highest priority.
        But lately he felt that there was something in his way, Stolas.
        And it wasn’t that Stolas was interrupting any of Paimon’s plans, or that he was slowing him down. Paimon prided himself on his knowledge, wisdom and ability to learn everything practically immediately –and for Stolas to take his time to do something as simple as speaking or eating made him angry.
        He felt that Octavia spoiled him too much and spent more time playing with him than educating him. And while he might as well have someone else educate his son –Octavia barely allowed anyone to come between her and Stolas. He was tired of this obsession.
        He had also been considering the option of a second child with Octavia for some time, one that would be a contingency plan in case Stolas proved to be a waste of time or a disgrace to his lineage. Perhaps he could convince Octavia that the cheating with his sister was her fault for not accepting more intimacy between the two of them and might even postpone his wife’s idea of ratting him out to Lucifer, “She’s already distant, it’s only a matter of time before she tries something stupid,” Paimon thought.
        Moreover, a failed marriage was not a viable option for him either, and while he did not believe Octavia capable of asking for a divorce (let alone having a bishop sponsor one), the mere fact that she wishes to end the marriage were known; among the Goetia, would be enough to show him as incapable of being a husband.
        This did not make him regret his actions, but it did remind him that if he had to keep up appearances; he also had to look the part.
        With all these things in mind, Paimon would rise from his chair and pour himself a shot of Burgundy, chilled with a few small ice cubes from the last circle –which, although one was enough to chill the drink, the sound of the ice clashing was a guilty pleasure for the king.
        
        ***
        
        As night fell that day; and after a quiet supper where again no words were exchanged between Paimon and Octavia, it was again time to put Stolas to bed. Delicately she sang to him:
        —Little baby in the dark house, you have seen the sun rise. Why are you crying? Why are you screaming? You have disturbed the house god. —Octavia’s voice was rising and now she was altering it by pretending to be a second character—. Who have disturbed me? Says the house god. It is the baby who has disturbed you. Who scared me? Says the house god. The baby has disturbed you; the baby has scared you. Making sounds like a drunkard who can’t sit on his stool. He has disturbed your sleep. Call the baby to me now, says the house god.
        Octavia repeated this melody over and over again as she rocked Stolas’ cradle, who, after hours of play, finally exhausted his energy and surrendered to the arms of Morpheus.
        Then she kissed his forehead, Stolas finally asleep and reacted with an involuntary smile that warmed his mother’s heart, and she retired to her room.
        Already in his bedchamber was Paimon naked, rising from the bed to receive his wife in his arms. Taking her by the shoulders with force; he looked like a brute trying to be gentle, only showing his natural roughness –which he accompanied by pulling her to him, trying to be seductive.
        His claws were cold and even when body to body, Octavia could feel no warmth in her own as she was embraced. Paimon tried to be persuasive as he preened her neck with his beak, but Octavia did not seem to flinch, even as her head moved involuntarily in reaction to her husband’s actions.
        —Tonight, you won’t say no to me, Octavia. —Paimon demanded—.
        —Because you are so seductive –and not a brute of an animal.
        As this conversation continued, Paimon became more aggressive and more possessive of Octavia’s body, trying to remove her clothes or sneak his claws under them; but both attempts were in vain as the discussion continued. It was impossible for Octavia to enjoy his cuddles, letting only the involuntary reflexes that her body reproduced independently pass her by.
        —Yet you claim me when I seek what you do not give me. If you ask me, it seems that’s exactly what you want; for me to seek arms other than yours. —Paimon complained—.
        Paimon planned to manipulate Octavia, to make her believe that it was her fault, and that he only went to other women because of her constant rejection. Octavia didn’t believe a word he said. She knew what would happen if she accepted his advances and the consequences if he had his way.
        With no intention or desire to play with her luck, she tried to free herself from Paimon, but the grip was strong and she could barely move –it almost seemed that the more she struggled the more he enjoyed it as he moved from one part of her body to another, including her neck, forcing her to look up as he grabbed her by the bottom of her beak; at the same time, he put pressure on her cheeks.
        —Unless you think your sister will make a better mother, for a new son. —Paimon murmured to her—.
        To these words Octavia gave in completely, her body almost seemed to have gone numb from how much she relaxed it –it was as if her being had left her body. Paimon was aware of it in an instant.
        —It’s good to see you coming to your senses.
        Paimon slowly pulled away from her, she sighed deeply as with her magic her dress began to move, underneath the upper garment of the dress; knots unravelled, opening up the possibility of removing it as if it were a jacket or button-down shirt. Thus, the breastplate resting on the corset was exposed, as well as exposing the knot that held the lower part of the dress, the bell, in place.
        Once this knot was undone; following the use of her magic, she lifted the bell above her head, for it was not a piece that opened, but was to be placed up and down –and the knot only served the function of a belt.
        From there the stomacher, or breastplate, was removed. A piece of cloth that covered from chest to stomach and was attached to a white silk scarf that rested on her shoulders. What looked like a one-piece dress was actually multiple layers of different garments.
        With these pieces removed, a petticoat of white cloth rested on a black pad which was also tied at the waist and over a black corset. This was what emphasised Octavia’s waist whenever she wore her dresses.
        Tied to this was another piece of cloth that had pockets on it, (that’s right, a dress with pockets underneath). Lucy Locket lost her pocket, Kitty Fisher found it, not a penny was there in it, only a ribbon round it. Made in the same colour as the corset to match.
        Next was the corset that untied of its own accord, a string that held it in position slowly travelled from hole to hole releasing the pressure that kept the hourglass figure in shape. Though with Octavia’s already perfect body, there was little difference with or without it.
        From there Octavia’s body would finally come into view, as she now shed a thin white dress and camisole of the same colour. Finally exposing her plumage and her body as she removed it.
        Slim and delicate, beautiful everywhere you looked. Her breasts were perhaps even softer.
        Able to be covered by Paimon’s palm and slightly larger. Big and firm. Although the plumage hid their nipples; if you touched them, you would realise that they were sensitive to the touch. 
        Two things need hardly be said; first, that, because of their anthropomorphic forms, neither Stolas, Paimon nor Octavia, and many other infernal creatures, wore shoes of any kind.
        Secondly, even though they are reminiscent of birds even when it comes to reproduction (for Stolas came from an egg), I recommend you not to question the existence of feminine features such as breasts in what we could well call a bird.
        After all, many creatures and demons were created in the same way as man, on his image. And Octavia was now as we would vulgarly say: “As Lucifer brought her into the world”.
        Now that Octavia was finally naked, she turned to see Paimon sitting on the bed with an erection, lewdly masturbating as he looked at her body and how vulnerable she was. Octavia watched him back, his body; big and strong, the one she had once been in love with –needless to say he was also well endowed in other parts of his body.
        With the mixed feeling of fear, hatred and contempt she approached him slowly, in slow steps which Paimon interpreted as flirtation; when it was Octavia thinking of what she was about to do.
        There was a reason for Octavia’s almost obsessive interest in her son, a reason to feed her fear and hatred of her husband beyond simple deceit. And that reason was eating her body from the inside as she stopped in front of him.
        Paimon invited her to sit beside him to which she obeyed, then he turned to look at her, pushing her violently against the bed, this to her eyes seemed all in slow motion, and lasted for more than an eternity. Feeling her body toss and turn slightly on the bed and feeling her husband climb on top of her.
        Without so much as a word to Octavia, Paimon played with her body as he pleased. He fondled her breasts and squeezed them, pinched her nipples. But he didn’t kiss them, he didn’t kiss her, he just lay on top of her like a dead weight that wouldn’t let her move.
        The feeling was so unpleasant for her that she didn’t even moan as Paimon groped her as he rubbed his penis over her cloaca.
        On the contrary, Paimon relished the power –his position over her and the glory he felt at the touch of her warm, soft body. His penis rubbing against her filled him with pleasure and the power dynamic intoxicated him.
        Octavia felt Paimon’s body icy cold. Even if she wanted to, she could not feel any kind of warmth.
        For the simple fear that he would be annoyed with her she pretended to enjoy herself, pretended to smile –and Paimon knew it was fake noises and fake smiles, but that was just what he enjoyed the most. He was a full-fledged demon, and tonight he was practically in his natural state.
        Octavia’s only genuine reaction was when Paimon finally penetrated her; winking half her eyes as she felt him enter her aggressively and carelessly.
        She felt his cold hands on her neck as her body finally gave in to the situation, letting out genuine moans; but they were not of pleasure, but of pain.
        As Paimon accelerated the penetration Octavia’s moans, or screams, grew louder, forcing her to try to remain silent so as not to wake Stolas.
        It was at that moment that she had the right idea, it was just waking Stolas up that would end the nightmare. So, she allowed herself to scream, she allowed herself to moan, and she allowed herself to howl; pretending to finally enjoy the passion.
        But Paimon was no fool, for then he silenced her. Placing his hand over her mouth he forced her to silence.
        Then Paimon finally came full length to her, his beak almost touching his hand as he silenced Octavia, staring into her eyes as she struggled to scream, and a discreet tear ran from one of her eyes onto the bedspread and mattress.
        Octavia grasped Paimon’s hands in an attempt to make him release her, but she was unable to fight his strength, and Paimon tensed more and more as his body pressed against hers.
        It was finally that Paimon came inside her. The warm feeling inside her made her burst into dry sadness, no tears came out of her –she just closed her eyes and waited for the end.
        When he finally broke away from her, Paimon broke the silence:
        —It wasn’t that hard, was it? Pleasing your husband, once in a while.
        Octavia was silent as she settled down to rest, turning her back on Paimon once more as he wrapped his arms around her; reminding her of where her place was.
        And in the end little Stolas heard nothing, and simply slept peacefully in his cot, cuddled by his red plushie who kept him company. Ignoring the cold of the night as he was covered with warm blankets and cloths. Deep in sleep, dreaming about what he had learned today, thinking about those colours and those beautiful scents. Finally, turning from one side to the other and opening his mouth he drooled on his pillow.
        And the night went on and sang until a new day.
        More nights went by, first one, then five, then ten, then fifteen. Until finally 40 nights passed, and an old nightmare was reborn.