Cherubim

The stands thundered with the bloodlust of tortured souls. The subjects of this emotion were the two creatures who battled in the arena. The man was powerful; the beast merciless. The feet of the man stamped heavily upon the dust while the clawed appendage of the infernal beast raised the red sands in fury. Both participants of this savage sports clashed and separated, each looking for a hidden weakness in his opponent, for time was running out. One had to fall soon. Their self-styled emperor- seated on his high chair- looked on, the corner of his lips pulled up in a slight smile, betraying his pleasure at the scene unfolding in his presence and for his delight.

The beast stalked the giant. It was not unlike a Lion in morphology, but with ten times its ferocity and strength. No fur appeared on it, just a hairless trunk which rippled with the moving sinews beneath the thick skin. Indeed, it only resembled a lion in the curious majesty of its movement in the dim ubiquitous light that stayed eternal. It clawed violently at the man who was armed with spear. He was a worthy opponent. The beast felt rage rising from within all over again and lunged blindly.

Then it was over. The scene was fantastic.

The sweating man was on his back, his spear was pointed towards the dark void that served as firmament. Midway along its length was the impaled trunk of the beast. A loud squeal of anguish was let out just before its essence dissolved into pure energy. Oblivion.

He that was worshipped sat and regarded them. His smile was a fixture on his handsome face. He had set the gears of this scene into motion; he revelled in his perceived magnificence, none was lord above him here. He was the cherubim who had walked among the fiery stones on Zion. He, the blight of creation; the glory of Sheol.

The man had requested for a second chance. His wife…, he had said. He wanted to go back. As they all want to when they first arrive, before his minions beat that resolve out them. But he had granted the man this concession. After all, he was Lord here. A life for another. He had also wanted to get rid of a troublesome demon. All for his pleasure.

The man stared at him from the sands, breathing laboriously. It was simply by force of a habit which was yet to die, of course, for none really drew breath in this side of creation. The whole arena was silent. The demons with their white-hot chains and gruesome appendages looked on stoically out of reverence for their lord, but were inwardly eager to resume the routine of torture dealt upon the hapless souls of the condemned.
From his lofty seat suspended high above the assembly, The Prince of the Air deigned to give a silent nod, his signal of assent to the man’s request. A smile broke out on the glistening face of the man.

The world tumbled as the ubiquitous light of hell was as extinguished. In full view of the spectators, his soul assumed a linear aspect and shot itself into the black void an immeasurable distance above. He felt himself travel the path laid out by the silver chord of life. Any moment now, he would be reunited with his body. Ecstasy filled him.

When he came to, he first thought he had passed out from the exhaustion of the battle. He felt like a million broken pieces. It felt familiar, the unbearable pain. This what it felt like when a seditious soul was taken to the pits, where its essence was torn in twain by the Ripper and carried to the two corners of hell, Mir and Dgi. The rift between the pieces of the soul caused absolute agony. That was the pain he felt coming now. It was worth bracing for. A moment before he realized the tremendous nature of his doom and understood for the umpteenth time the evil nature of his benefactor, a snippet of knowledge that explained all coursed through every atom of his scattered essence.

Cremation.

As in a manner distant, he heard a solemn chuckle from what he knew to be the throat of Baal’ze-bub.

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