Chapter 0.5: Eleutheromania

The only light that dared to enter that place was swallowed by the dense leaves of ivy. The breeze that eluded between the broken windows made a lovely noise to hear, if it was the first time listening.

He remained with his eyes closed, in fact sewn by the thorns that also grew there. The devil's mouth was as sand-dried, as much as that place was as damp as a swamp. His fangs pierced their own tongues, seeking to insate with their own blood. But it wasn't enough.

How many nights had passed? How many new moons? 200? No... He knew they were more, his body begged so much for blood that there could have been only 200 new moons.

The ivys and thorns squeezed him like a snake hugs the prey, keeping it so helpless, without air, without movement. He hated thinking about it, hated being a prey. Ever since he stood before that damn being, he swore to himself that he would never be the prey again. I wouldn't dare be the one who hid when the fatherly light of the sun gave way to the moon, it would no longer be the frightened rabbit.

That day, where the fallen being laughed over him, letting blood and saliva bathe his face, entering his wounds. That day he had promised that he would be the one who made the weakest hide, it would be the shadow that no light could illuminate. He'd be the fear that killed him.

But it was so ridiculous, he was trapped like a caterpillar before he became a butterfly. The thorns kept their eyes closed, hugged his body, and pierced his limbs. There was no way to move, the only thing he could do was listen to the damn sound of the leaves.

His blood had stop dripping many moons before. The headage began to corrode his body slowly, first it was that irritating discomfort, then the blood itself could not leave his mouth moist, then the tears of despair began to fall. He didn't want to cry, he didn't want to give that taste of having become the prey again, but his body and his mind were already different things.

When the tears dried up, the time came for supplications and screams, begging for a single drop of blood. He screamed until he felt he had hurt his vocal cords, screamed until he couldn't scream anymore.

After the screams, he accepted that he would no longer leave that place. So he just waited for death in silence, not wanting to give any more spectacle to the audience.

Since then, mortal silence has been his only companion. The unconscious desire that keeps him alive. The gentle noise of the ivys was his watch, the way in which the gentle footsteps of the animals awakened him when it was night. But that didn't stop him from getting lost in his own perspective of life. At some point he hadn't remembered how many days or nights he was there.

A miserable life. In fact, a miserable existence.

Life was filled with memories, beings, light and, especially, life. The demon had become a mere part of that garden, something that would die by the plants and reborn from the ashes like them. He wasn't anybody anymore, he didn't even remember his own name.

In what the devil remembered to be the early years, there was a useless word game he had created to remember who he was. Before the sea corrupt what was left of his soul, he remembered how to make his name come out. Before the thorns sew his eyelids, he counted how many times he saw the faint sunlight enter there.

There was someone for him, that he remembered. He remembered why the lack of memory was uncomfortable, as if he lacked the most important part of his servant, as if, when he was still alive, he had forgotten how to breathe. That lack was more uncomfortable than the hours hugging his body, the blood his body lacked was nothing close to that lack of memory.

Most of the time, the devil tried not to remember it, because it came from a strange memory, even though he didn't know it was. A laugh came into his mind, as sweet as the smell of lavender. The brightness of the sun became a strong memory too, even though he didn't understand why.

It hurt him to agony, it hurt not to remember that memory. It hurt him more than forgetting his own name, that memory was more precious than that. That's why he hated remembering the lack of memory.

With an almost non-existent sigh, the demon tried to drag his consciousness away from lost memories, bitter laughter, and the prison he was in. It was enough for him not to know how to stop there, sticking more worry into his idle mind was as useful as biting his own tongue in search of blood.

What a miserable existence.

He could almost see before him the monster who corrupted him too, laughing and letting the poison fall wherever he passed. When was it again? Not too close to being a healing wound, but to think it was so far away was also uncomfortable.

A grunt came out of the demon's dry lips. Another pointless concern, what's the point of knowing when it was when you don't know when you're?

"The garden is beautiful, isn't it?"

The voice that echoed through the garden made the demon's body feel prepared to attack. He almost groaned with satisfaction at such a feeling come back to the fore, but the ivys rushed and hugged his body more forcefully.

"Don't feel so ashamed." With a cruel laugh, the person approached with noisy footsteps "I just came to ask you for my favor in return, I don't think you forgot that."

The demon laughed, hoarsely and painfully, but the sound impressively came out like a laugh.

"You don't remember, how lovely to know that" The person got closer and he can feel a soft and warm hand touching his face.

That simple gesture made the forgotten memory come back, and he wanted to die with it.

"Your crime has already been paid. Well, in parts." With a quick movement the person pulled the thorns that were over the demon's eyes.

He felt the dry skin breaking, the noise seemed like a walk in any park during the autumn. One of his eyes was stuck in the thorns, that was the first thing he saw before he felt the thick, cold liquid dwinden through his body.

"I will give you a name," The demon raised his face, seeing a woman with long black hair falling from the side of her body "If you behave, I will return to you who you are. Completely, I will give you back to yourself."

The woman's face seemed something still in time, not so young and not so old. The image of beauty, the representation of the Mother.

The demon looked around, seeing the dim light that appeared to be from the Sun, but it was nothing like that. From a distance he could feel that it was a cold light, but not pure like that of the Moon. The ivys continued the same way they always were, the thorns were still brown.

"Welcome to the surface of life again, demon." With a sign with their hands, three young women in similar robes approached. The smell of life has eroded his body, and the ivys have moved again "Take good care of him, darlings, he's a very sweet pet."

The woman smiled and began to walk towards the door of that place. After so many years the devil could not explain to himself why it was not a garden, where the sunlight and the noises of nature came from?

He wanted to ask her, that woman knew the answer to all that, and it was probably a certainty.

Slowly the young women, who he eventually recognized as priestess, began to sing and the ivys and thorns slowly loosened. First the demon could move his fingers and toes, then he was able to raise his arms and eventually fell to the ground. Feeling the pathetic weakness of his body.

"Enjoy your dinner, αиєτняα."