A true Death

[mimifearthegn]

The fiend holding up Sarin's head listens to the prisoners many words quietly.

When she's finished speaking, there is silence.

Then there is laughter.

First from the one in front, then from the rest. Laughter that cuts into Sarin's ears as surely as any knife has cut her flesh. Mocking in tone, alike to a court of nobles crying out in both joy and disbelief at the antics of the jester at play.

As they laugh, the blue eyed fiends thumbs begin to drive their nails into the corners of Sarin's eyes.

"You? A Brachina?" She laughs again, as her nails worm their way behind Sarin's eyeballs.

"You wish to tempt others to the will of Baator, when you are the one tempted to every wayward path that presents itself?!" Further in the nails dig, while the claws of the other fiends make their own marks and bury themselves into Sarin's flesh.

"And you would be the tormentor to the one who gave you to the angels? Think you that Hell is filled with fools to play to your deception?! NO!"

With those words, Sarin's left eye is gauged out entirely.

"Prove to me your worth, wretch! Condemn your sister here and now, if you would be her tormentor! Speak the words that are known already; that Maraphael is a traitor to Hell! Confess this truth that your eyes have seen, or the one remaining will be taken too!"

[Sarin]

Sarin does not shrink at the eye gouging.

“I gave my testimony. You know anything gained from torture can be contested in court by Maraphiel as a potential lie. You can easily demote her with what I gave you. You don't need anymore. She is a fool, and she failed. But she is not a traitor. She is greedy, and stupid, but she was always loyal. To herself, yes, but also too the hells. Her demotation is warranted, and what I gave you will guarantee it. You don’t need anymore from me. Her fate is sealed. She is damned enough, and damned with the truth. I refuse to damn her with lies. A devil does not lie. We don’t need to.

“And as for my being tempted. No longer. What have the heavens ever given me? Birdsong? Birdsong and wrath. I hear song no longer, and I feel only wrath. What has freedom given me? Uncertainty, pain, suffering, madness. The hells have given me everything. They have given me power, sense, purpose, drive. They have made me strong, and let me be what I always was. Not a singer, but a murderer. A creature who smites and kills without warning, on command. I don’t seek freedom now. I don’t seek redemption. I have my purpose, and freedom will only get in the way.

“In the span of a month, I have suffered eternities upon eternities of torture. All that is left of me is wrath, and rage. I want to kill demons. I want to show the seven heavens their folly. Prove that they are no better than worms. That is what I want. My god is dead. Returning to Arcadia will grant me nothing. The one who lead me down the path of redemption is a pacifist. I was cast down for the crime of pacifism. Give me a short leash, and let me prove I am useful. If I failed, if I am tempted, return me here. I won’t. The celestial in me, what was left, is burned away. Freedom is slavery, kindness is weakness. A devil does not lie to get what they want. And I will not lie to get this. You have the damning truth about Maraphiel. A devil who needs more than the truth is not a devil. Let me be useful, let me serve, and I will pay my debt in souls.”

[Sarin]

“Or… If you truly want too punish me, send me too Arcadia. Be rid of me, and let me torture myself for the rest of creation. You have enough on Maraphiel. Any lie I tell would only damage your case. You know it. She is no friend to me now. Nothing is. I would not hold back if she had done worse. I simply will not lie to make it seem worse.”

[mimifearthegn]

Again the erinyes laugh.

"Look, sisters!" The blue eyed one says. "See how she still clings to her fantasies! All those lies she tells herself to excuse the costs she faces."

Her eyes bore into Sarin again. "What you want means nothing to us now. You who came groveling for Hell's embrace, only to turn and flee from your charge. Think you that this will have no consequence?"

She sneers at Sarin, as something cold and sharp is brought against the base of her wings.

"Think that your newfound rage and anger at your own failings and weakness is enough to welcome you back? That you shall ever again be counted among the erinyes of Baator? I say to you, never!"

As she proclaims the word, the saws dig into the skin and bone of her wings, riding back and forth over what seems like a good half an hour. Metal teeth dig deeper and deeper, into the flesh, severing the nerves, chewing through her powdered bones, until that merciful moment arrives when each wing falls to the ground. As they hit the stones, they turn to ashes that scatter and vanish, as if they never existed at all.

"You dare to lecture as to what it is to be a Devil. You who is WEAK. You who knows nothing of our ways. You will never belong. But you will have a use, oh yes you will...."

She casts her gaze towards the other side of the chamber, behind Sarin.

"Bring the larvae." She says with a wicked gleam in her eyes, before turning to look at Sarin once more. "You will feed the youngest of Hell first. And when they have eaten away at those impurities you thought to replace the perfection we gave you, you will be repurposed to something more fitting."

"Don't worry." She says with a malicious smirk. "As they dine, we will consider your words and testimony. Perhaps we'll even send you "home" after all."

[Sarin]

Sarin had held strong through all the torture and pain. It was nothing new to a veteran of the blood war. But with the slow removal of her wings, she lets out a few wracked, dry sobs. Too never fly again. One of her greatest fears. As she watches her wings turn to ash, she becomes still again.

She decides to say nothing. There was no point. Let them do what they will. They had what they needed. Now she must simply endure. She couldn't even remember a point where pain wasn't her life. Her head sagged, and she waited.

[Taurus Daggerknight]

By the time the horrid soul larvae were brought around, Sarin was less an erinyes, and more just a mass of ruptured, scarred flesh. The dust that once was her skeleton was held inside only by her bloodied and mottled flesh, her teeth having long since fallen out of her mouth. Her head fell in awkward ways, as the skull had given way, her remaining eye held only by the nerves that connected it. The only bones left in tact were the remaining stubs that once held her wings, a cruel reminder of what was stolen.

Yet still, all that she had experienced thus far did little to dull the pain of the larvae's biting; hideous, human mouths mounted upon the pulsating bodies of maggots, digging their teeth in and greedily digging in. One was gingerly placed within the empty eye socket, another at her feet, and still more upon other sores.

Sarin felt every second of their movements, inside and out. With each passing our, more of her was lost; taken into the wretched little thieves, each vying for more; more of her power, more of her being, that they could have even a small, minuscule chance of ascending.

The hours passed. The mere possibility that she was ever an Angel or a Devil started to seem more and more distant and implausible, as she rotted and withered.

Then, at long last, the doors opened once more.

Sarin couldn't see who came, but she heard the steps. Two pairs, each wearing heavy armor, clanging against the stones. The sound of a blade cutting through the air, and slicing through the chains that held her up.

She crumpled down, near-formless as a lemure. Was this salvation? Had someone come, against all odds, to free her?

The sensation of hooks driving into her ankles did away with such thoughts.

She was dragged out of the chamber, across rough tiles and down dark, twisting halls, the worms still trying to take what they could.

Into a new chamber she was taken, and thrown upon another surface. An alter, perhaps? All the while, she could hear a fiend snarling angrily at others in the tongue of Hell.

"There is nothing to work with here! What am I supposed to shape of this wretch, when you've already let the maggots fill their bellies of her essence?!"

"Use what there is." Came another, disinterested voice. "No one cares if it stands or does anything. Doesn't even have to be a lemure for all anyone cares."

The first voice grumbled. "Fine! Fine, but the maggots will have to be shaped too, I can't work with-"

"Less lecturing, more working!"

The grumbles continued, even as the sound of shifting tools and devices echoed.

Sarin couldn't turn to see what was happening, until she was eventually 'spread' over the altar. Her head- the vague semblance of its shape at least- still couldn't move, but her eye caught sight of parts of the chamber. An alchemists lab, of sorts. The machines of Baator filled the room, with strange chemicals in vials, and rune markings across various surfaces.

The grumbling fiend was tall, lanky, his head crowned with large, curling horns. She couldn't tell what exactly he was, though he wore bloodied robes of what may have once been richly embroidered silks. A high ranking fiend, in all likelihood, and going by the laboratory, an alchemist of some kind.

No, not an alchemist. A shaper.

The fiend waved it's claw, and smaller devils flew in, wielding horrid hooks and knives.

"Make the first incision... "

The cuts were precise, and agonizing. Her flesh was sliced, and opened like a bag, as various reagents were placed around the altar. Black candles, bones, and what appeared to be organs.

Her screams did not seem to concern anyone involved in this twisted procedure. Her cries were ignored entirely, as the fiends whispered ancient incantations and continued their damned work....

* * *

Sarin wouldn't have been table to track exactly what happened, or recall anything besides the pain. The result would eventually come into focus though; her bones were restored, and she could move again.

The moment was ruined when she realized she could also still feel the wriggling inside. The wriggling, and the gnawing. Fewer than before, yes, but still very much there.

More than that, the pain seemed even more unbearable. And the smell... somehow the -smell- around her was different, altogether more offensive in a way she had never quite experienced.

She was also cold.

...and something else... a pounding. A pounding in her chest, up her throat, in her wrists.... a pounding like she had heard in so many doomed mortals before they met their demise.

The pounding of a heart.

[Sarin]

A planars mind and body are connected. They are but soulstuff and magic. Nothing more or less. As the soul larva ate at her essence, the who of Sarin slowly, painfully, left her body. She was nothing, in the end. Nothing but pain, and anger, and even the anger began to fade. She screamed and thrashed, her mind far gone. She couldn’t remember her other pains, so every fresh new bite, or cut or burn or removal of skin was forgotten, only to be experienced anew one moment later.

When she was finally cut down, there was nothing left. Sarin was gone, her mind shot. Perhaps there might be flashes of memories, a sound, a smell, an image, but she could not think. Hardly more than a lemure indeed. She longed for her other eye to be removed, so that one of her sense could no longer be tortured. The insertion of hooks was nothing compared too the rest, but even this new feeling made her scream. She didn’t notice being dragged upon the alter, as the soul maggots continued to chew. She did notice the devil as a higher ranking creature, but that was only through the remaining base essence she had. When he began to work, she screamed anew. She would have thrashed, if she truly had any functional muscles left, or any energy. In the end, she couldn’t even scream. When the beating came, her mind focused upon it. This new feeling. This feeling that wasn't pain. It fascinated the creature that used to be Sarin. With this one thing to focus on, the other tortures dulled slightly, and it became all she was. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump…

[Taurus Daggerknight]

Her focus on the hammering of this thing in her chest was cut short as rough, clawed hands gripped her by the arms and shoulders. They pulled her off the alter, her weak knees slamming against the ground as they did, and dragged back into the halls.

The stones once more chafed and cut against her skin as she was dragged, the only mercy taking the form of a maggot finally digging its way out, and falling along the floors. Perhaps the wretched thing would find its way to a dark corner, and feed until it grew into something bigger. Or perhaps it would be stepped on, or consumed by another devil. Sarin would probably never know.

Finally, she was brought into a new chamber, and thrown to the floor. Before her were scores of erinyes, all glaring with perfect hatred at her. Still more soared above, circling around the domed ceiling high above.

One of the fiends drew closer. A memory flashed; the dress of flayed faces. The blue eyes. Sarin knew who this devil was, and recalled the previous hours with her, all her hateful words and cruel torments.

"Look at you." She said. "Pathetic. Weak." Her foot swung into Sarin's face, striking with force.

"What is pain but mercy for one such as you?! What are the maggots tearing at your being but leniency and a welcome end?"

Sarin was once more grasped by the armored hands. They held her back up to her knees, another claw gripping her head - bald now, it occurred to Sarin - so that she was forced to face the erinyes before her.

"No. For you such promise of oblivion is too good."

She smiled then. A cruel smile, with the promise of malice.

"Far better is your desire. You will go home, as you wished. And maybe you will kill a demon. Or not. Either way, we keep our word. You may go. Go back to your dead gods charge. Back to the place you swore to defend, as you swore to Hell. To the first of your failures."

The energy in the room began to swell, then ebb. The light around Sarin seem to dim, as the erinyes stepped back, her expression now severe.

"I, Galatrix My'axomir of the Basilica of Blackened Stars, Right hand of the Aeries of the Obsidian Crags , release you of your bindings to all of Hell, and also of the dark blessings its fires once bestowed upon you! In the name of Bel, Archduke and Lord of all Avernus, I strip you of your name and place among the Furies, and curse you eternally! May you wander till the end of all time, may no realm take you, and may your body wither and rot as surely as your oaths to all you have failed!"

A shrill howl filled the chamber. The horrid, rage filled cries of the erinyes, numbered beyond counting, scorn beyond anything Sarin had ever known. Their blackened wings blocked out the light, more and more as they all took flight. Shadows swirled around , carrying in each turn a terrible wind like a blizzard, howling with the devils who condemned her.

The sound eventually began to fade, as if falling behind a great distance. The wind was no more, nor was the sound of the beating wings.

The ground had changed. Rocks, like a desert, lit by a light akin to a moon, but no moon could be seen in the sky above. Little at all could be seen, save for the silhouette of ziggurats around her.

More details of the world slowly came into focus. A paved, ruined street ahead. Broken wooden beams near smaller structures of stone.

And the outline of a man, atop the tallest of the ziggurats, not too far ahead of where she lay.

[Sarin]

Sarin’s form is lanky, gray, scarred and stitched together. With the return of her body, so too comes the return of her mind, although this new form has a hard time comprehending the memories of what she was. Her eyes see differently, she hears and smells differently. She pulls herself up for a second, then falls back. She curls up on the ground, and begins too cry.

She stays like this for a while, until eventually the tears dry up, and her mind is hollow. She stands, and walks through the ziggurats. Faint memories flicker in her head. She makes her way towards the figure. Picking through the environment. Every motion is agony, but she continues. Eventually, she stands at the foot of the many stone steps, and begins to painfully climb.

[Taurus Daggerknight]

The stones of the ziggurat are somehow familiar. The engravings in each step like something she has surely seen a hundred, no, a thousand times before. Yet it seemed somehow further up. Was it always this exhausting to climbs these steps? Had she ever felt real exhaustion?

She began to hear voices bellow. Gathering masses, several feet pattering against the ground. She couldn't see them in the darkness, but she knew they were many.

Up she climbed, running increasingly out of breath, until finally, she was up at the top, by now forced to crawl on all fours. Before her stood a male form in an elaborate, red stained robe. Familiar garments, and a familiar headdress, except for those red stains.

His face, what little of it she could see in the dim moon-like light, was also familiar. How long had it been since she saw this man, kneeling before her, laying all that he was in utter worship to the very ground she walked?

The longer she looked upon his face, however, the more the differences began to become clear. He surely was not always so scarred, and she distinctly recalled he had eyelids, from what vague memory she had of seeing him.

The man paid her only one glance, before turning his attention back to a body on the altar. Another man, naked, bound and crying desperately.

The man spoke in a strange , guttural tongue, and raised a knife of some kind of jagged stone material high, ready to drive it into her chest.