An Angel’s Road to Hell

Cassandra Pendragon

The emblem lit up once again and with a crackling of power Mephisto materialised in my room:

“So, where were we? Right, we were just about to lay the foundation of our glorious partnership.” Seriously, what was it with people’s sarcastic tendencies today? Well, two could play that game: “Oh mighty and venerated lord of the transcendent planes, this poor princess humbly requests your aid and guidance and is ready to formalise our agreement.” I would have even bowed if I had been standing. He blinked.

“At least you’re not afraid to trade verbal blows. From all I heard that’s more than I expected.” From what he had heard? Did he run a news agency on the side? And I was no coward. At least I thought so.

“I didn’t know you kept tabs on me. How’s that even possible?” He smirked.

“Have you never wondered how Greta just so happened to know a thing or two about angels? Or that she knew how to construct a focus out of your blood? Or that she knew that you had to prepare your body for your development? Or that she just so happened to give me to you when you could finally use your wings? If you’re really that dense, I will retreat to the emblem rather than waste my time with a walking corpse. I am sure the next outcast immortal will come along sooner or later. I don’t mind waiting a few aeons.” That stung.

“I’m not dense. Of course I wondered but I always thought it was part of her charm as a smelly old hermit who had mastered all kinds of magic. Frankly, I would have been more surprised if the ancient witch beneath Boseiju’s roots didn’t know a thing or two about the more esoteric aspects of lore. Maybe you fell slightly out of touch, stuck in a coin for I don’t know how long, but around here a little secret is no reason to start a ruckus.”

“A little secret? You really are an idiot. I expected you to have no real idea about your heritage, but that’s just insulting. We have a long way to go but I guess we also have the time.” He paused shortly and gave me a haughty look. “Despite your lack of imagination and proper respect towards your elders, I’m still willing to share my knowledge. Now, before I address your woeful ignorance, I’d like to draw up the contract so we both know what we are getting into. Don’t you agree?” I was taken aback slightly, I hadn’t expected to get to this point so quickly. A soul contract sounded pretty binding and I still didn’t trust the scholarly figure. Admittedly his demeanour just now had slightly eased my suspicions but even if all he had said was true he would still be a demon. I would have to make sure the contract wouldn’t contain any hidden obligations I didn’t want to live with.

“What do you propose?”

“Glad you should ask,” and with a flourishing gestures he pulled a reddish parchment from thin air. It shimmered slightly in a golden hue, I could see runes covering the front side. I couldn’t read them per se, but somehow the meaning was clear. I felt it resonate within my soul, it wouldn’t be possible to hide anything within the contract. Every rune, every paragraph spilled its contents over into the souls named within. For the most part it was pretty straight forward, naming me and Mephisto as the parties to whom the contract belonged. My name was written as Cassandra Pendragon, formerly known as Lucifer while he was Mephisto, lord of lies and 333. Demon in existence. It seemed like I hadn’t earned a title yet.

The obligations were also pretty clear. Mephisto would teach me to the best of his abilities and support me in any way he could without endangering his existence or mine. In exchange I would help him obtain a lesser demon and grow a core within it. We haggled a bit over an addendum, I wanted to add “without risk to herself” but that was too restrictive for him. In the end we settled on the same wording we used before with a little add-on. The final piece looked something like this:

Cassandra Pendragon, formerly known as Lucifer and Mephisto, lord of lies and 333. demon in existence agree to the following contract voluntarily, without and form of duress and without malicious intentions towards each other.

Mephisto pledges to teach Cassandra in any way and disclose any information that doesn’t pose a danger to their existence. He further agrees to help her in any endeavour that fulfils the same condition.

In exchange Cassandra will aid him in his quest to retrieve a lesser demon and grow a demon’s core within to the best of her abilities. Only the risk of permanent damage to her existence or vessel constitutes a valid reason to abandon the quest. In addition Cassandra pledges to never mention Mephisto’s existence from here on out to any receptive soul, mortal or immortal without his explicit agreement.

I was satisfied with the outcome, even though the limitations he had placed on teaching and sharing information could be interpreted rather loosely. But in any case, if he should start brushing me off due to some vague possible threat in the future, I was going to do the same to him and his little “I want to be a demon again”-quest. Overall I thought it was fair. We both signed, me with blood and him with a strange vicious substance he somehow turned a part of his soul into and the contract dispersed into golden light that settled into our bodies. I could feel it settling around my soul, like a blanket. When I realised I could still feel it I tried to wiggle one of my furled wings around the magic, but I couldn’t control it freely within my body. To get to the contract I would have to cut myself open. Nothing I wanted to try in the immediate future but should the need arise, I thought I had found a way to get rid of it. Well, if I had a seriously powerful healer besides me who could keep me conscious and prevent me from dying of blood loss.

When the last sparkles were gone, Mephisto turned a chair around to face the bed and dropped onto it. His cloths changed from his scholarly robe to something I’d call a nighty. Quite plush and in dark colours but nothing one would wear outside of bed. I’d quite like to get one for myself.

“We can as well get comfortable for now. You already told me you have questions and there are some things I’m also sufficiently curious about. Now how about we play a little game: quid pro quo. I’ll answer a question and then you’ll answer one of mine. That seems like a good start.”

“What are your limitations in comparison to a real demon?” He hadn’t been expecting my question, I could tell from the slight blush that rose to his cheeks, but he replied smoothly:

“First of all I don’t have a transcendent core. I am pretty much a mortal with the memories, astral body, life force and soul of a fully fledged demon. So while I can’t channel or produce transcendent energies to any notable degree, I’m still a bad-ass master of magical arts and probably more than a match to anyone we will encounter in the near future. But”, he slumped even further into his chair while he continued, “like i said before, I’m mostly a genie in a bottle. Due to…circumstances I’m not willing to talk about right now I decided to join you when you were reborn and I had to burn my core to bind the rest of me to your emblem. A very clever enchantment allowed me to retain a seed of my soul, life force and astral body. When you touched the disk, you inadvertently triggered the second part of the enchantment and filled the seeds with transcendent energies, regrowing them to what I am now. Before I was only a disembodied spirit, i could communicate in dreams with someone close to the emblem but that was it. Now, I can use my restored energies but I’m still bound to the transcendent energies flowing through the emblem and powering my seeds. I can only manifest or influence anything that’s close by, say within a radius of one meter or so, and if the emblem is destroyed… we’ll let’s just say at least the fireworks would be amazing.” He breathed slowly and sat back up.

“Now, I believe I have answered your question to the best of my ability so it’s my turn. How do you feel about Aurora?” It was my turn to blush. I was tempted to lie, I wasn’t bound to disclose information by the contract after all and that was damn personal. But I had a hunch he would already know the answer. This question might as well be a test to see if I was willing to tell the truth, plus I actually didn’t mind admitting my feelings. I wasn’t used to it and felt slightly embarrassed but I wasn’t really uncomfortable. With some hesitation I replied:

“I don’t really know but I guess you could say I love her. She’s more often on my mind than not and when you mentioned that you know where she is and how to get there I was ready to drop everything and just rush off. I still am if you are willing. It’s strange, I don’t have any real memories of her, but I have this feeling of emptiness and loss every time I think about her and I feel happy if I imagine meeting someone I have never seen before. It’s like I love an idea that’s anchored deep within and I feel like I have to somehow make it real. If I get lost late at night it’s even close to an obsession.” I hadn’t broken eye contact during my little monologue so I didn’t miss the short flash of pity that streaked over his features. Did he pity me, Aurora or everybody in between? Maybe I should ask? Nah, that wouldn’t be worth it.

“How is my development going to proceed?”

“Every immortal who starts from scratch has to go through nine different phases until he is fully functional. First, you have to realise that an immortal is, for the most part, nothing more than a form of parasitic energy that invades a host. It’s not malevolent but it merges with the hosts astral body, life force and soul, the connection can only be severed through the death of the host. That energy is what we refer to as core and is the only truly immortal part of you. Now, while your body may die and your current soul might pass on, your core will always remain and carry on a part of all that it has been. If it binds to a new host, it will slowly merge with it, in step with the natural development of the host.

During the first stage she will just be a normal toddler. When the brain is sufficiently developed, memories will start to emerge bit by bit, signalling that the core has bonded to the host. The next step will bring forth a first surge of transcendent energy, signifying the growing compatibility and reservoirs of the host. The fourth evolution will sprout the major characteristics of the core, wings for angels, horns for demons, and bring them under the host active control. That’s where you are at.” He lifted his hands and massaged his temples.

“Afterwards, it’s all about the different forms of energy. Your astral body will awaken next, allowing you to channel transcendent energies within yourself and through your wings. You can think of it as a body-magic only period. You’ll gain the ability to use mana outside of yourself with your next evolution. The seventh and eighth transformation will allow you access to your life force and soul. You have to keep in mind that even though you are using the same energies as mortals, your spells will always contain a certain amount of transcendent energies, making them exponentially more powerful. And that’s what’s going to happen in the end, you will gain the power to control your transcendent energy without the crutch of mana, life or soul based spells.” He dropped his hands and his eyes focused on me with a stern expression.

“Each stage occurs naturally, when body, astral body, life force, soul and core are sufficiently developed and integrated to sustain the next step. But they can also be triggered artificially through stimuli like trauma or memories and occur before every part of you is ready. That’s dangerous and sometimes deadly. You felt a small part of the backlash back when you faced the Furglows. The goal is to prevent that from happening ever again. That’s also the main reason why I’m not going to share everything with you. Remembering too much of your old life could trigger another transformation and you sure as hell wouldn’t survive that mere days after your last one.”

Leaning back in his chair he asked:

“Do you want to become a queen sometime in the future?” That question I understood. If I had been in his shoes I’d also have liked to know what I just signed on for.

“Again, I don’t really know. I have some pretty good ideas about who I am and what I want but I don’t have the experience to decide which way I’d like to go. Probably not though, I lack the deviousness and patience to be an effective politician, as well as the ambition I suppose. If I think about it I’m also pretty sure that I will have to leave my home sooner or later, I’ve got an angel to find after all, so it won’t be a matter of concern for a long time anyway. Until then you hopefully have your body back. I wouldn’t want to explain to anyone why my most trusted adviser is a coin, even though a shiny one. What do you know about Amazeroth?” He nearly fell of his chair and spluttered: “How do you know that name? Has he contacted you?”

“No, but he seems to be the lap dog of a foul wizard from across the globe with whom my brother had a decently savage disagreement. That were two additional questions. So could you please answer my first one?” He blinked at me, stymied but collected himself after a moment. I watched him closely and he seemed nervous.

“Fine, but you have to tell me exactly what you mean with savage disagreement and how Amazeroth connects into it. Amazeroth, 113. demon in existence and lord of mirrors and master of forbidden knowledge. The only immortal that I know of who has never lost a single vessel. His existence stretches on, unbrokenly, for aeons. He is the spider in the web of fate, the shadow in a mirror, always there, never recognised. Let me tell you a story, maybe that will make it a little clearer.” He closed his eyes for a moment and when he continued his voice had taken on a deep, resonating timbre.

“Long ago, the servant of a wealthy merchant headed into town on an errand his master had tasked him with. There, on the market square, he saw a tall, haggard figure, wearing a dark cloak with a hood over its face. That struck the servant as odd for they lived near a desert and it was hot. So he slowly approached the looming figure to peek under its hood. When he was close enough to count the wrinkles in its cloak, the figure turned around, lifted its hood of its face and greeted the servant with a small bow. The servant became white as a parchment and rushed off into the distance, because underneath the hood he had seen the bony visage and empty eye-sockets of death himself.

Death was confused and stared after the servant. He had been surprised to see him there, even though they were going to have an appointment later that day in Samarra.” He paused for a second.

“Now I ask you, who do you think Amazeroth was in the story?” I was puzzled. From my point of view that story had been about the inevitability of death, or destiny if you preferred a wider interpretation. There was no one in there whom I would associate with control or manipulation. Nobody instigated the scene, I thought. Wait a minute…

“Was he the merchant?” Mephisto smiled.