Chapter Text
Stolas watched as the stars slowly wheeled around him, realization and melancholy softening his expression as they swayed in their eternal dance. Sadness sunk deep into his bones as he watched them paint a picture, one he wished he had not stumbled upon. He slowly waved his hand, unable to watch any more. The swirling colorful cosmos slowly faded from view as he took a deep, stuttered breath.
He looked down, once more seated comfortably in his study. His Grimoire slowly falling closed on his desk as his power faded from the air around him. He reached out and gently laid his hand on the cover as it finally closed, and he closed his eyes.
He hadn’t expected that news when he began his monthly duties in reading the stars. To be fair, he rarely looked into anything so… specific. Normally he merely read the stars; how the harvests were going to be, any impending disasters, news of any major upstarts, that sort of thing. It was a job given to him as a child, and he has learned over many years how to tease prophecy out of their subtle dances.
But he was gifted with far more abilities, his duties far more varied and faceted than any mere soothsayer. He could see the ebb and flow of fate, the dance of destiny and death. It was a dangerous thing, to be able to see the very spin of the universe. An ability he did not exercise often, for the dangers to one’s sanity that it presented.
He stood up, talons slowly falling away from his grimoire as he slowly made his way around his office. He took a deep breath again, holding it for long moments.
He had not meant to peek into his own future. It was a dangerous thing, to look too closely at the fate of others. The universe spun in a vast complicated dance, so many pieces moving in sync, in harmony. Each a complicated gear in the larger machine that ran their existence. Fate was no map, set in stone. It was instead a river that flowed ever onward. Many factors affected its stream, changing its flow or speed. It made new eddies and bends as it twisted and snaked its way into infinity.
To look at one particular future however was to create a self-fulfilling prophecy. It locks that particular future in place, and there was no way to prevent it. Any attempts to do so would merely bring it about faster. Fate was no mastermind that made them dance to her mercy. Was not some higher intelligence that played with their existence as if they were mere toys. But fate did have a… set of rules that it followed. Some things were imprinted on the very fabric of reality. Many of them too complicated and arbitrary to discern with an untrained eye.
To look to the future to try and change it however… was to doom oneself to whatever fate they see.
He crossed to stare out of his windows, his arms crossing behind his back as he mused over the prophecy he had handed to himself. It had been a foolish mistake that led him to seeing his own future. Had gone looking for any immediate disasters in the future and had found something else instead.
Most humans scoff at the idea that the stars and celestial bodies around them had any effect on them. He laughed at them, for their foolishness. Though he could hardly blame them, they could not parse the very weave of the universe or how the very cosmos impacted even the most basic of building blocks of their reality.
He had let his heart waver for a mere second and that had been his undoing. Had wanted, for the briefest of moments, validation, an answer. In a second of self-doubt and pain he had unconsciously asked the cosmos for a response, and the cosmos had answered back.
He had been trained to never let his heart or mind flag when doing such things to prevent the very disaster he had set upon himself. One must be able to distance oneself and steel themselves against the temptation of an answer long desired.
He should not have even tried this night. He knew he was not in the right head space for such things. Knew he was still tender, aching like an exposed nerve to the air. One wrong thought sending him pulsing in pure pain and his mind into dizzying tailspins. Had cut himself deeper and deeper with each self-deprecating reflection. The moon phase, a bitter reminder of what he had lost, what he had destroyed. He never should’ve tried to seek answers in the stars, for he went seeking more than he meant.
He reached up an arm, gently laying it against the glass. At least it solved his most immediate problem. The pain that had been trying to drag him down to the bowels of his own psyche was no longer his greatest priority. After all, it was hard to worry about the absolute shit storm his life was now when there was a bit more pressing issue to handle. It really rearranged one’s priorities when a deadline was established. He pressed his beak together, eyes un-focusing enough to see his own reflection.
Sometimes he could barely stand to look at himself anymore. His eyes were paler than they’ve ever been, lines of stress making them appear sunken. His feathers were perfectly arranged, looking as neat and orderly as usual. But their color was off, dull instead of shiny. His shoulders held a slump that usually only existed when he was at the mercy of his ex-wife but was now commonplace even after her expulsion from his home. He had had business outside of his palace that morning and had been forced to make himself presentable. Even if he wanted nothing more than to bury himself in his bedsheets with a bottle of absinthe.
He turned away from the window, wrenching his eyes from the sight of his obviously distraught image. Walking around his study once more. Eyes landing on his grimoire, he walked over, running his fingers over the cover. He was glad he did not see Blitzø that morning when he went to retrieve the tome. Having received the book from one of his littler employees. He wasn’t sure if he could handle seeing the other at the moment.
The pain still a raw wound that has not had the time to seal let alone heal. To see those eyes, watching him with loathing and disgust, had nearly broken what Asmodeus had tried to destroy. The overlord of lust had dragged his every mistake, his every failure as a father into the open and then mocked him for it. Had forced him to confront the truths that he had buried beneath his self-loathing. He had actually liked himself for once in his life, and it had come at the expense of his daughter. How selfish was he? That he chose his own happiness over that of his daughter?
He would need to return his grimoire soon, the full moon nearly over. He had already cancelled their monthly liaison. Knowing that neither of them were up to any intimacy. He knew that the other was not fooled by his excuse. A prince of Goetia? Getting sick? That was a once in a lifetime event in most cases. He’s only been sick twice in his life, and both instances happened when he was a child. They both knew he was not sick. But Blitzø had latched onto his excuse like a lifesaver in an ocean and didn’t question it.
He took another deep breath, once more sitting at his desk. He opened his book, slowly flipping through its pages. He remembered the joy and wonder he had felt when he had first received it as a child and was given the responsibility to learn all of its wonders. Now though, it felt like a chain, keeping him bound to the very family that would sooner harm than help him.
He flipped the pages until he finally found what he was looking for. The idea had come to him in the beginning, in the days after Blitzø had crashed his way back into his life. He traced his fingertips along the words.
Asmodeus crystals. Previously named something else, far before he had ever been born. They were not owned exclusively by the overlord of lust. Had been used for other things before succubus and incubus demons were created. The overlord of lust merely staked a claim on them after taking over his reign. Gifting them to his creations as he made them to extend his own power.
They predated the fallen angels that had taken over hell after their expulsion from heaven. Older than even lucifer, though the other would deny such. Most of the information in his book predated the fallen archangel, most of his magic coming from the very void of the cosmos. Even though the book itself was more modern, the information itself was still a thing of antiquity. Translated, but not different at its fundamentals. The new king was happy to use his primordial powers as his own, all the while denying their origins.
It was hard for such a prideful being to admit that the Eldridge monsters that existed in the cracks of their universe had any power in his dominion. It was laughable when he stopped to think about it. There was a reason Ars Goetia still retained power, though limited, even after Lucifer’s ascension as king. Their lineages predated even the earth, though most of them have lost their powers. The few that do retain them were kept carefully in check by Lucifer, kept pacified and under his command.
He smirked humorlessly as he raised his hand and began to chant. His magic began to condense around him, dripping around him and pooling on the table. The frothing purple magic reflecting the shifts and swirls of the very universe in its depths.
He spun the fibers of the very universe as he followed each step of the grimoire with patience. It would take hours and quite a bit of his magic to create them. They were no mere playthings, not made to be used so frivolously. They were powerful and dangerous artifacts. He weaved more magic into them, layering more and more enchantments as he went.
The pool of magic on the table shifted, slowly forming into four perfectly shaped crystals. They were not the usual Asmodeus crystals, no need to mimic that frivolous demon. The one that had helped ruined his very first and probably only date. He smiled ruefully, three of them shaped like little imps, the fourth a hellhound. They had no color, not yet. They were not yet complete, as he was not quite done with what he wanted them to do.
He stood up, staggering slightly as the room spun a bit. It took quite a bit of magic, and he hadn’t been in the best condition to begin with. However he shook it off, knowing that his night was only truly beginning. He had so much to do, and so very little time to do it.
He waved a hand, opening a portal in front of him. He cloaked himself in shadow, even the rustle of his clothing going silent. He stepped in, carefully navigating the darkness of the small room he had walked into. His eyes easily adjusting to the darker interior.
Two imps were sleeping peacefully, one curled tightly around the other. He felt a bittersweet smile curl his beak as he looked down at the two littler imps that followed hi- that followed Blitzø around. A love shared between them so deep and wide that nothing seemed capable of sundering it. They were the very image of what he always wished for himself and was now learning that he would never receive. It hurt… to see them interact sometimes. To know that he would never know that kind of love and devotion of a partner made something inside him crack.
He gently reached out and plucked a white hair from the ruffled head of hair, making the imp snort and snuggle closer to his wife. He waited until they settled until doing the same to the female, retreating back to his portal with one black and one white hair. The faint growl emanating from the bed was a warning to let them settle back down. A soft snort and a happy chirrup and they were both once more settled and he closed the portal.
He gently dropped the two hairs on the table before opening another portal, stepping through on silent feet. This one was the one that worried him. He watched the sleeping hellhound with a critical eye, knowing the young woman was always very on edge. She was curled up in her bed, softly breathing as she slept. Instead of trying to pluck a hair from her he directly, he looked around her room and found one of the many that coated her belongings. He then walked through another portal, this one allowing him to cross rooms without opening a door.
He stopped as he entered the room that he had delayed as long as possible. His heart clenching as he caught sight of the only other demon other than his daughter that had ever made it into his heart. He took a deep breath, slowly approaching the sleeping figure.
He was restless, the small, curled form on the couch shifting as he slept. He closed his eyes and gripped his chest. It hurt, it hurt in a way that he never knew he could. He gently rubbed his chest, trying to loosen the lump that was making it difficult to breathe. He had to regain his composure. He had to remain steady.
He crossed the room on silent talons, knowing that unless he wanted the other to see or hear him, he would not. Not even the nose of a hellhound could track him if he did not wish it. He studied the other’s face with a heavy swallow. Blitzø face was drawn tight, stressed. Not even his sleep enough to allow him the reprieve he deserved. So much weight resting on such small shoulders. So much that Stolas had contributed to. He closed his eyes, listening to the other breath.
Blitzø did not have any hair, not like the other three. It would be a bit more difficult to take a piece of him back to finish the ritual. However as the imp grumbled and turned, his goal was revealed. He had found it endlessly endearing to see Blitzø drool the few times he had actually slept over at his palace. He always looked so content, curled into a pillow or the feathers of Stolas’ chest. Tail curled around whichever he decided to cuddle at that moment, drooling away without a care in the world.
He reached out with his handkerchief, gently wiping the small bit of saliva. He drew back, watching the slow rise and fall of the other’s chest. How he desired nothing more than to crawl in beside him, wrap his body around the other as far as he could.
He swallowed and stood up, shoving that temptation as far into the back of his mind as he was able. He didn’t deserve that place any longer. Had ruined it with his own selfish desires. He turned around, opening one last portal. The one that would take him back home. He walked towards it, giving the sleeping imp one last look before crossing over. The closing of the portal felt more and more like a metaphor than he cared to think about.
He took a seat at his desk once more, laying each hair and the handkerchief on the corresponding crystals. He rested his hands above them, once more pouring his magic into them. Weaving the intent of his magic deeper and deeper into each one. They began to glow beneath his palms, the blank clear crystals slowly changing. Color bled into the surfaces, giving them bright vivid colors as he slowly worked the magic deeper and deeper.
Dizziness hit him as he got closer and closer to finishing, nausea following quite quickly. It made his mind spin, as if his brain had been removed from his skull and left to drift away. He grit his beak and focused, pouring more and more magic into the four crystals on his desk. They were nearly done, only needing the final touches.
The purple magic that was undeniably his own slowly sunk into each of them, disappearing into the shimmering crystals. He gasped as he wrenched his hands away, the last of his magic dissipating as he swayed tiredly. He grasped his head with a groan, closing his eyes tightly as he braced himself against the edge of his desk. He hadn’t anticipated how draining it was making four of them at the same time. Usually they were made one by one. But he did not wish to drag this out longer than he needed to. He had a deadline now, and he had to begin preparing everything. It was easier making them all at once, rather than doing that ritual four times in a row. It had already taken most of the night to do it once. It needed to be done before morning, Blitzø would need them soon.
He stood up with a wobble, gently scooping them into his pocket. He didn’t trust anyone enough to leave them sitting out, not even in his private study.
He staggered to his room, slamming his palm on the light as he made his way inside. The lights went out and he fell face first onto his bed. He groaned in annoyance as the buttons on his shirt bit into his chest and stomach. He turned with a flop, laying spread out on his bed.
Wrestling for his phone he opened it up, ignoring the home screen and opening his alarm settings too fast to dwell on it. It hurt to see it, but he was too weak to delete it entirely. It was the last link he would have to Blitzø, even if the other looked less than happy in the photo. It was a reminder that he had always wished for more than the other was willing to give, that his fantasies did not mirror reality.
Setting an alarm for seven he tossed it off to the side, groaning as pain raced through his head. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply. It was easy to let himself wallow, to allow the emptiness in his chest to grow and grow. Pain of this type an old friend. Exhaustion dragged at his mind, and he felt himself succumb to sleep mercifully quickly. Swallowing his consciousness in a pit of emptiness and he couldn’t be more relieved.