The Devil's Tear

Chapter 53- Colourless Flower

                He wanted to sleep. To escape the agony.

                But the woman’s voice would not allow it. “Wake up, Demetri!” It said. “You have to seal her wound! Rosy’s wound!”

                Demetri’s eyelids shook. Of course, he had to seal the wound with his own hand, or the tear would just travel back inside. It was all too troublesome. He couldn’t utilize any of his power whatsoever at that moment.

                But he knew he was obliged to. Without opening his eyes and depending solely on his sharp hearing, he reached out and gently pulled Rosy to his chest. His hand travelled to the exact location of the cut he’d created. And then it struck him.

                How would he heal it? He didn’t have the ability to heal. Arisa brushed her hand over Demetri’s, allowing her own strength to trickle into Demetri’s hand, and subsequently to the tiny cut on Rosy’s chest.

                Demetri mentally smiled; Arisa was quick on her toes, as usual. With that, he allowed the darkness to fully reign, despite the devil’s tear continuing to burn the hand that clutched it in determination.

                -

                The molten ground rumbled, causing His eyes to dart towards the open crack. He perused it with amusement.

                Of course, Demetri had to succeed in the extraction. Demetri was an unfailing subject; he never failed what he planned.

                The Devil interlaced his pale fingers. Dark, shadowy haze lingered above his hands. The mortals would soon arrive to the Underworld- Hell.

                He took a mighty stand. He would be prepared. He was always prepared.

                Mortals could not make Him fall, or even stumble.

                If God willed for the mortals to succeed, so be it.

                But the Devil would always return- always.

                No matter where he was ‘sealed’, it was never sufficient.

                The world of Tytania was not at God’s mercy- it was at the Devil’s, His. It was not God who Examined the mortals, it was the Devil.

                The Devil’s minions, his loyal, mindless minions, gathered in a flawless rectangle encompassing the black throne that belonged to Him.

                “Dance, my Minions,” His voice echoed like a powerful wave of sound. The smaller creatures straightened their posture, no matter how crooked their skeletons had previously been. For the Devil, their Master, even their skeleton would correct itself.

                His voice was charismatic, alluring, intoxicating, rejuvenating, refreshing, breathtaking, divine, unearthly… and hellish. The malignant, malevolent intent was as clear as the orange, flaming crystal that hung over the black throne.  

                “Spill their blood on this ground,” he continued his order, “Fill this crack.”

                If these mindless creatures did not succeed…

                If Tytania’s divine God willed the mortals to triumph…

                The Devil’s lips curved into a twisted smile. No matter, He thought. The next batch of mortals would be his victim, if not the current batch.

                After all, they were all expendable. Disposable. Replaceable.

                -

                Artemis slapped herself softly on the cheeks. Her anxiety should have dissipated by now. Rosy was free. Demetri was unimaginably hurt, but safe. She wanted to visit Demetri, but she couldn’t bring herself to see the condition he was in.

                Since when were you such a coward, Artemis? Her mind inquired with a mocking tone. Artemis sneered to herself, choosing not to respond.

                Of course, it would be strange if she responded.

                She didn’t want to develop a habit of arguing with herself.

                She slammed her hands on the door of the bedroom. That’s it, she decided, I’ll go see Demetri now. With that, she exited the bedroom, and scurried down the hallway till it arrived to two prongs. Almost automatically, she chose the slanted path, running down the marble floor with ease and obvious impatience.

                When she arrived to the room she had been told Demetri was in, she raised a fist to knock. It froze in midair, and she decided to enter without the use of the formality. It was just Demetri.

                She pushed open the door with her usual cheery countenance, grinning. Her grin almost faltered seeing Demetri’s destroyed state lying across the king-sized mattress covered in a white, silk duvet. He definitely wasn’t asleep- those who reawaken required no sleep.

                He was unconscious from pain. Artemis bit her lip, hopping over to his bedside. There was no furniture except for the bed, so she found herself sitting at the edge where her clumsy movements would not hurt Demetri.

                Even from her distance, her hand could reach Demetri’s, which was wrapped fully in gauze. With hesitation, she placed her dead white hand over his. Demetri’s skin was paler than when he still lived, but his hair remained impeccably mahogany and silky. His hair was longer than normal, brushing his shoulders.

                His angular face was tightly set. The muscles in his jaw were squeezed together, and his eyelids wrinkled with the pressure exerted to keep them closed. Artemis unconsciously leaned over, brushing his forehead with her index finger. She remained extremely careful not to disturb him.

                Even so, his eyelids fluttered open to reveal the breathtaking lapis lazuli of his almond eyes. Artemis’s breath hitched in her throat, and she instantly retracted her hand.

                Demetri’s lips curved into a forced smile, and he whispered weakly, “Why did you stop?”

                Artemis blinked, and slowly returned to caressing his forehead. “How are you feeling?”

                In his devastated state, the teasing Demetri managed to gift Artemis his signature, amused smile. “Better now that you’re here, Delara.”

                Artemis smirked, rolling her eyes. She had always considered Demetri her brother when they were all young, including Allegra. He had treated her as he did Allegra; he was endearing and always, always teasing.

                Artemis’s heart clenched when Demetri’s lips mouthed the words silently, “You and Allegra were the same… Always the same.”

                She gave him a brief smile, focusing on letting her hand move over his face without abruptly stopping.

                “Artemis,” Demetri whispered, his eyes glinting like actual jewels, “You were always a blooming flower. Even now, that you’ve lost your colour…”

                “What does that make me,” Artemis smiled, “A colourless flower?”

                “Exactly,” Demetri repeated with a gratified smirk, and an alluring gaze, “A colourless flower.”