Miriam's Demon

Newborn Man

Romaith woke up to a newfound heaviness. For the first time in his existence, he felt gravity. Not a being of air and fire any more, he stood on his shaky legs and examined his pale white hands cloaked in mud. Everything hurt - pain was not a familiar sensation. The ringing in his ears made him scream - he knew that the witch's curse worked, for now he is mortal.

The commotion was attracting the villagers nearby, soon faces peeked from the hedges that surrounded Eomer's hut. Romaith, still hurting, fell to his knees and crawled to the woods, his wet long black hair trailing behind him. It was a sight to behold for those who saw the state of the Eomer household - the burning mud hut, Sundra's bloodied corpse and a pale man dragging himself to the forest. Istopher the neighbor, ran to the village Chief to report. The cold night clung to Romaith's body. He hid himself in a small grotto used as a shrine to the Guardian of the Woods by the villagers. Carved into the side of a hillock, it barely gave him any warmth but he could not push himself any further. Shivering, he called for his Mother and all 10 of his brothers with all the breath in his human body. This, he thought to himself, must be what praying was - sending out wishes into nothingness, not knowing if there will be a response. All the exhaustion, pain and confusion was too much for this newborn man. He gave in and embraced the blackness in resignation.

"Baby!" A voice called out in the darkness. "Mother, can we set him on fire?" Another voice responded."Look at him! A foetus surely!" "Wakey, wakey baby!" Voices of  laughter surrounded Romaith. Sharp rays of light pierced his eyes as he opened them. "Argh!" Through slits, he saw himself to be in a room. Shadows and light were dancing on the walls. "Stop it!" he heard his mother's voice yell as giggling followed. Mercifully, the room became dark again. As his eyes focused, he saw ten small green flames surrounding him - his rapscallion younger brothers was enjoying his suffering in glee, shooting their flames higher to blind his hurting eyes. His mother, the Demon Queen Azraphila of the Nusku Tribe was a welcomed sight. Skin in glittering gold and her crown of fire sitting on her wild black hair, her hollow eye-sockets enlarged as she greeted her firstborn. "Romaith! You have brought this upon yourself!" His brothers chuckled "Can't say we told you so!" Iznath the youngest chipped in. "You have wronged blessed souls and they have placed this curse on you! I told you never to align with the mortals! The humans are for the relm of the Gods to decide. Let this be a lesson to all of you!" She turned to his brothers her fury evident as the green flames shrunk. He felt a sharp piercing in his chest. "Mother, what is the nature of this curse? wh-where am i? what-what do i do? Can you undo it?" his questions drew laughter from his brothers who reveled in his suffering. The schadenfreude among the brothers was lighthearted as they knew their oldest brother would get back on his feet in no time. They, unlike their mother, were not aware of how truly serious his predicament was.

"Child, your body is human, yes. But thankfully you are still eternal as is your Nusku nature. You have broken the pact our tribe have with the Gods and you will be punished. I have pleaded with the Gods and they have been merciful. Your powers remain, though not as strong. They have created a remedy for you but you will have to journey  to find it. This is your baḵt. Accept it my son, and all will be less painful for you." Perhaps it was his nature, Romaith felt anger; heat was rising from his chest to his head, he wished for vengence. "Mother! How can I alone be at fault, it was not my ill-will that i carried out. What about the humans who wished harm on Eomer and Sundra?" Azraphila, sharing his anger, grew larger, filling up the dark room with gold and fire. " For their pact with you, their baḵt is sealed with yours. Their greed will consume them. Your damnation will also be theirs. Your remedy will also be theirs! Sleep now my son, you will need your rest for your new life. Mehr and Dânesh will guide you." Like a spell, Romaith sank into his bed of straw and into his first dream. He slept for 20 days and 20 nights, so deep was his rest that not even the visiting villagers could wake him. The women both young and old took turns to clean him, out of curiosity and lust. Many sat by his bed agape at this man so peaceful in his god-like beauty, waiting to be of service. Body carved out of the purest unblemished marble and wavy sea of raven hair framing his serene face, the humans believed that Romaith must have been an angel, not a demon.

Finally, the Chief, owner of the home, had enough of the visiting women and barred them from coming into the room. He pondered if he should kill Romaith in his sleep. However, his wife having eavesdropped the meeting between Romaith and his mother, concocted another plan. Little did they know that this plan would mean their destruction.