The Demon King of the Desert

Chapter 14

It was difficult to have that conversation with Demiurge in front of Nyala. You decided it would be better to consider such a thing when she was at least sleeping or napping. Hopefully she would nap. You couldn't say you'd seen her do that.

Letting her stay on the bed and enjoy the look and space of the room she would be growing up within, you ventured to the balcony with Demiurge. If you whispered, perhaps the words wouldn't travel even to her acute hearing.

"What do you plan to do?" you asked the Demon King reluctantly.

His ear twitched in the direction of your words, turning his head to gaze at you with his squinty eyes. "In your regards to my brother, I am to assume you mean?"

With great reluctance you added, "Yes, but you make it sound as though you will fail and Jaldabaoth will...hurt me. Even if I am his bride."

Demiurge looked back out over the railing of the balcony, perhaps wishing to be quiet of that matter. His entire body tensed, and in that moment, you saw his chest heave as he sighed. "I don't know what's become of him." The devil folded his hands upon the old, mossy railing of the balcony. "I told you that he was born the weakest of us. I am sure, given the other things I omitted for the sake of time, you see him as merely just having been born pure evil."

You grabbed onto his arm, squeezing him there tightly. There was something in his stance and words that hinted at a sort of pain he had kept buried for centuries. "Demiurge...?"

"Demons' memories, when we first wake, are the same as any other childs' upon this soil. We don't recall much. I was told by the servants and my own mother that I needed to be patient with him. When we were to be fed, I constantly snipped at him and fought over our mother's milk to where he could have died. Jaldabaoth had to be fed separately because of this. Trying to encourage a stronger child to not show dominance to their other siblings, to where it could cause death in the weaker ones, isn't a trait that is easy to train down when demons are first born."

Children never knew any better no matter the race. They were growing, learning from example more often than not. A baby had a hard time learning as it were till they reached a certain age. You couldn't blame a baby Demiurge for acting on instincts.

"My mother requested I be the stronger brother and do my best to watch over and protect Jaldabaoth no matter what would become of her." Recalling those last few moments with his mother there in his bedroom, he was confused. Demiurge was only five or six when she came in late one night to cryptically speak with him.

She was a beautiful woman in his eyes. Her skin was a soft brown in color, and her black hair curled ever slightly down to her hips. Unlike his father's horns, hers curved upward in such a design that the people believed she held the sun itself between them.

"My strong flame," she whispered in the darkness, waking Demiurge from his sleep that night. "No matter what becomes of me or your father, always remember that your brother is yours to protect."

Demiurge remembered being confused. Back then, he always had nothing but rivalry where Jaldabaoth was concerned. He was always just Demiurge's 'annoying younger sibling'.

"Why should I watch him? He gets in my way a lot."

His mother stifled her desire to laugh at brothers just being brothers to one another. "A strong fire still needs nourishment from others to continue burning brightly," she reminded him. "Prey upon your enemies–not your own sibling. Swear to me you'll care for him long after I am gone."