"Wakey, wakey," Azathoth smiled in the dark.
Seven-year-old Serena rubbed her eyes, still half-asleep. She looked up and saw a towering, pitch-black shadow standing over her.
"Ahhhhhhh!" Serena screamed in pure terror, scrambling backward across the floor. She scrambled to her feet and ran toward the wooden door.
Azathoth instantly appeared in front of her, blocking the exit. "Calm down, calm down," he said in a mocking, cheerful tone. "I am just here for your birthday."
Serena's tiny body shook violently. "Who are you?! Where is my mommy?!"
"She is right behind you," Azathoth grinned, gesturing grandly with his hands. "Surprise."
Serena slowly looked back. The room was flooded with blood. And then, she saw the demonic statue.
She froze. Her child-like brain completely short-circuited. She stared at the severed head impaled on the left horn, and the mutilated body hanging from the right.
"Mommy...?" Serena whispered, her voice trembling. "Mommy... is that Mommy?"
"Yes, that's your mom," Azathoth nodded sympathetically. "She left because she was angry at you."
"No!" Serena cried, her voice breaking into a wail. "I didn't do anything! Mommy!"
She ran toward the bloody statue, dropping to her knees in the pool of blood. She grabbed the cold, lifeless hand dangling from the idol.
"Mommy, wake up!" Serena sobbed, shaking the arm. "Mommy, wake up!"
"She is no more," Azathoth said coldly.
Serena collapsed onto the floor, hyperventilating. Her chest heaved as she gasped for air. "Mommy... Mommy, I need you. Wake up. I'm sorry for making you angry!" She squeezed her eyes shut. "Astragel, wake Mommy up! Please!"
Azathoth crossed his arms, genuinely annoyed. "Come on. Is it not beautiful? I gave you the best present ever, I put a lot of effort into it, and this is what I get? Damn it. Humans are so ungrateful."
He walked over and stood above the weeping child. He tapped her cheek lightly with his cold foot. "Wakey, wakey. Wakey, wakey."
Azathoth smiled. "I have an idea."
"Wake up!" a familiar, deep voice suddenly shouted.
Serena gasped for air and opened her eyes. Standing over her was not the shadow, but her father.
"Daddy?" Serena cried, reaching out for him.
But Charles's face was twisted in pure, hateful rage. "You did this!" Azathoth-Charles spat. "You are the one! This is all your fault!"
"No, I didn't do anything, Daddy!" Serena wept, crawling backward. "Please!"
The fake Charles reached into the shadows and pulled out a heavy leather whip lined with rusted iron spikes. He gripped the handle tightly.
"Mommy died because she was angry at you!" he shouted. "You ask for too many things! You made it all about your birthday!"
"Daddy, what did I do?!" Serena screamed. "Please! Please!"
"You killed her! You are cursed! I hate you!" Azathoth smiled through Charles's face. "Cursed are the weak, and blessed are the strong, because the strong can do whatever the fuck they want!"
He raised the spiked whip high into the air.
"NOOOOOOO! STOPPPPPPP!" Serena screamed, covering her head.
CRACK.
The whip tore through her small shoulder. Serena leaped off the floor in blinding agony.
"HAAAAAAAAAH!" she shrieked, clutching her bleeding arm. "Stop, please!"
She scrambled up and ran blindly toward the door. But a figure stepped out of the shadows to block her.
"Mommy?" Serena gasped.
Elizabeth's phantom stared down at her with dead, empty eyes. She, too, was holding a spiked whip.
Serena looked back. Her father was walking toward her. She looked forward. Her mother was blocking the door. She was trapped between the two people who were supposed to protect her.
Serena dropped to her knees, pressing her forehead against the bloody floor, begging for her life. "Please, please, stop! Stop! I will never do it again! I'm sorry!"
The phantom Elizabeth just smiled a cruel, sickening smile. "You have been naughty. Very naughty. And naughty girls get flogged."
This book was originally published on NovelPhoenix. Check it out there for the real experience.
"Please," Serena whimpered, completely broken. "I will not do it again..."
Suddenly, the phantoms of her parents dissolved into black smoke. Azathoth reformed in the center of the room, holding the real whip, smiling down at her. "You have been forgiven."
Before he could strike again, the wooden door burst open.
Pastor Callen rushed into the room, holding a lantern. He stopped dead in his tracks. He looked at the weeping, bleeding child. He looked at the towering shadow. And then, he saw the horrific demonic statue painted with Elizabeth's remains.
Callen's eyes filled with watery tears of pure horror.
"You are the demon," Callen breathed out, his voice shaking. "The one they were talking about. Hunting them for years."
"Demons are a fairy tale," Azathoth replied boredly. "I alone exist. As the source of all fear and despair."
Callen leaped forward, throwing himself in front of Serena, shielding her tiny, bleeding body with his own. He raised his hand toward the shadow.
"I destroy you in the name of Astragel!" Callen shouted with righteous fury. "I cast you out in the name of Astragel!"
Azathoth gasped. He stumbled backward, dropping the whip. "Stop it! Stop! Stop!"
Azathoth began to shake violently, holding his head. "Stop!"
"I cast you out in the name of Astragel!" Callen screamed louder, hope surging in his chest. "Die, you demon! I cast—"
"Please! Stop! Stop! Stoppppppp!" Azathoth wailed.
Suddenly, Azathoth went completely still. The shaking stopped. He lowered his hands, a wide, sadistic smirk spreading across his face.
"Just kidding."
Azathoth speed-blitzed. He moved faster than light, appearing directly in front of the Pastor. With a casual flick of his wrist, Azathoth effortlessly snapped Callen's neck.
SNAP.
Callen collapsed to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut. His dying eyes looked at Serena. "I am... sorry..." he whispered, and then he was gone.
Serena screamed, covering her eyes with her bloody hands. "It's just a nightmare! What is going on?! What is going on?!"
Azathoth grabbed her by the hair, violently lifting her off the floor.
"Open your eyes and look at my present!" Azathoth yelled, slapping her hard across the face. He brought her tiny, tear-streaked face inches from his own dark void. "Don't you love it?! I made it with care!"
"Look closely, little one," Azathoth whispered, his voice vibrating through her skull. "No one can save you. You will find Astragel's warrior, Ignis, and you will kill him. That is your purpose in life. Then you will find all the Germs. And all you will do after that is kill, kill, kill, kill."
"Mommy..." Serena sobbed weakly.
"Let me make this clear," Azathoth snarled, dropping her onto the blood-soaked bed. He clenched his fist, preparing to deliver a punch that would shatter her bones.
Suddenly, a blinding, brilliant golden light engulfed the entire room.
The blood, the darkness, and the cold instantly vanished. A towering, majestic golden figure materialized in the center of the room.
Serena gasped. Through her tears, she smiled. She stretched her tiny, trembling hand toward the light.
"Azathoth, enough," Astragel's voice boomed, sounding like a thousand thunders, yet filled with infinite sorrow. "I won't allow you to torture a creature. Especially a child."
Azathoth looked at Serena, who was smiling at the God of Light. The Creator of the Void scoffed.
"Never," Azathoth defied him. "I created her. I made her blueprint. I brought her into existence for my will, so I have absolute control and ownership."
"Yes, you created her," Astragel argued, his light pulsing with heavy authority. "But you are obligated to respect the created being's autonomy and well-being. She did not ask to be created! She did not ask for this terrible life! She is innocent!"
"Making it about yourself again," Azathoth sneered. "Many people hate the idea of an evil god, including you. I know deep down you hate me."
"I don't hate you," Astragel replied softly. "I hate what you do."
"I created her, and I have full right over her!" Azathoth shouted. "It would be crazy to say I don't!"
"You would have had full right over her, but you gave her free will," Astragel stated, laying down the ultimate cosmic law. "She is not your slave. You created her with freedom."
"This is why I hate you!" Azathoth roared, the shadows violently fighting the light. "You set the rules based on what you want! You put boundaries based on what you want! Because you are 'good,' you make me morally wrong!"
Azathoth pointed a dark finger at the God of Light. "Yes, I am wrong! Yes, I am evil! Yes, I am unjust! That is the point! That is me!"
Azathoth paced the room. "You always want me to follow the rules you set. You say I cannot torture my own creation because it is 'bad.' That is the whole point! You always want Good to win!"
Azathoth stopped, his voice dropping to a terrifying, absolute truth. "We were one. Unending. Until you decided to create. I didn't destroy your creation or physically harm anyone before this. I only corrupted them based on your free will. I tempted. I manipulated. But I have never come down and directly tortured them."
He pointed down at the bleeding seven-year-old girl. "But this one... this one is my creation. She is my daughter. She is my creature. I made her just so I could express my hatred and rage on her! I hate creating! I only destroy! But I made her specifically so she will suffer to please me. What is your problem?!"
"My problem is she is not a mindless being!" Astragel's light flared. "She has feelings! You made her with true emotions and freedom just so you can torture her! That is wrong!"
"You are finally understanding my point," Azathoth smirked. "If no one had sinned, I would have stayed hidden in the dark. But I am done playing by your rules."
Azathoth stood tall, expanding his cosmic aura. "I do not care about any stupid laws or cosmic morality! For Serena, and Serena alone... I will do whatever the fuck I want."
He picked up the spiked whip. "And that parental control? I do not need it. I have Creator control. I have Creator authority."
Astragel looked down at the bleeding, hopeful little girl stretching her hand out to him. His light flickered with profound, universe-shattering sorrow. Because he championed free will, he could not force Azathoth's hand without breaking the very foundation of existence.
"I am sorry," Astragel whispered to her.
And then, he vanished.
The darkness instantly swallowed the light. The room plunged back into a freezing, blood-soaked nightmare.
Serena's tiny hand dropped to her side. She could not fully understand the cosmic debate she had just witnessed, but in her heart, she understood the result.
Hope was gone.
"Now, back to business," Azathoth smiled at the girl. "Sorry for the interruptions. Let's get back to where we started."
Azathoth walked toward the bed, uncoiling the spiked leather whip.
"I love to see children suffer," Azathoth whispered, his red eyes glowing in the dark. "I love it so much. They don't understand much, but their screams are so beautiful. So pleasant."
Azathoth gripped the whip tightly. And he brought it down.
Serena screamed, and the true psychological death of the little girl began.