Asmodene

Asmodene. 

God has broken his pact with the devil. His intervention by using Leathig,and by setting the ten plagues on the Egyptians has allowed Lucifer to retaliate. The battle begins for the souls of the Hebrews. Asmodene, his most powerful demon, has been summoned to lead the fight. 

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Asmodene. Thunder filled the cavern. The walls and floor of the huge cave shook with the unceasing onslaught. Foaming and swirling water punched and pulled its way between and over the boulders guarding the two hundred foot drop. Once free, it roared in triumph, before dashing itself to pieces on the rocks below.

The resulting spray exploded against the walls and ran down like blood in the amber light of the oil lamps suspended from the roof on long rusting chains. The yellow, swirling and billowing mist, created claws which grasped impotently at the cold air.

Asmodene, his long hair and cape rising in the updraught, chose his steps carefully on the slippery uneven surface, as he moved towards the thin, algae covered span of rock which served as a bridge across the vapour filled gorge.

The mist thickened as he approached. Memories filled his head of the contorted faces and deathly screams of trolls and humans, begging in vain for mercy, before being thrown to add their bones to the pile being stirred at the bottom of the foaming and thrashing lagoon, one hundred feet below.
He waved a spell at the huge animal headed oil lamp hanging above the bridge. 

"Fiat lux" 

It burst into life. Writhing amber flames, tinged with black smoke, sent guilty, furtive shadows scurrying across the walls. Holding his breath, he placed his right foot on the bridge. The slippery surface withdrew. He breathed an incantation, 

"Tenere!" 

The bridge solidified. He crossed slowly but confidently to the other side.

A shimmering ward, with inverted triangles, the sigil of Lucifer, barred his way,again he called on his power to undo the spell.

“Fúgite potestatem habeo Asmodene."

The veil-like barrier dissolved. A long, flaming, torch lit corridor invited him forward. He entered. The thunder from the cave outside instantly stopped, His echoing footsteps and his heavy breathing were the only sounds.
The torches became fewer as he continued down the long corridor. The air thickened in the darkness. He stopped. Holding his breath, he listened. Silence, not an everyday silence, this was a complete absence of sound. He breathed out. The long exhalation was smothered entirely. He clapped his hands. A dull, stifled, and sponge-like echo of the slap was all he could hear. This, he knew, would intensify the further along this path he walked.He tried a spell 

"Discutere tenebras." 

The air grew warmer and what small light there was withdrew. Asmodene inwardly sighed. He leaned against the wall to gather his resolve before continuing along the ever narrowing pathway.

The atmosphere continued to wrap itself around him. The intimidating silence reminded him of the void. He'd been banished there by Lucifer. He had committed no offence. Lucifer needed to condition him. To prepare him, he said, for service.

The memory of that awful experience haunted him still... A place of nothingness, a place filled with interminable fear. A place with no sense of time, a horror inducing, mind altering and terror filled existence.  A place with no stimulus. He had only his self-created nightmares, and they tormented him ceaselessly.  

Being immortal, the horrifying thought of spending eternity in that state, terrified him absolutely.

Now in pitch black, Asmodene, with his arms outstretched, and his senses alert, felt his way like a lowly worm through the shadows.

His mood lightened when a finger of air brushed his cheek. He stopped. There was light ahead, a small flicker of hope. He quickened his pace. 

Three large torches framed an archway standing sentinel before a steeply descending staircase. An inscription flickered in the shadows in the center of the arch. 
Asmodene leaned his head back and read. 

"Qui huc intrasti omissa spe."
   
  Steeling himself, he crossed beneath the archway and furtively headed down the stairs.
With each downward step his mood lifted. A fresh cleansing breeze cooled the air, and white globes on tall slender poles dispersed the darkness. 

He reached the bottom where a vast, light filled amphitheatre spread out before him. 

A large silver pentagram covered the floor, in the center of which, were steps facing the four points of the compass. The stairs rose to a long narrow throne, where golden angel wings rose high above, as though the throne were about to fly off.

An animated and vividly coloured painting surrounded the walls. Grim faced, armoured angels, wielding fiery swords flew and fought each other on a battlefield wasteland. 

On the ceiling, above the throne, Lucifer and Michael, the Archangel, were engaged in deadly combat.  Their eyes flashed and their armour blazed as they soared high and swooped low, each seeking to gain an advantage. Their raging weapons sliced and parried as they flew.  Their powerful wings punched them through a dark sky, where black, rolling clouds, threw lightning in all directions.
 Sitting cross-legged on the throne, with his chin resting on his clenched hands, sat a seven year old human boy. Asmodene, startled, sent a strong binding spell.

"Extimui sensique!"  

He expected to see the boy scream in agony, as the bonds of air pulled at his tendons and sinews. Normally the victim's back would arch unnaturally, and the mouth would bleed and salivate as the muscles of the jaw contracted, pulling the teeth up into the tongue. Sometimes, his victims bit right through, and the bloody wet flesh would fall onto the torso. 

The boy ignored it.

“I’m pleased you made it through your trial Asmodene. Lucifer wouldn't have been kind to you. He likes to remind his subordinates of his mastery."

" Who are you? How do you know my name?"

" I know everyone's name. As to whom I might be, shall be explained in time. For now I'm a friend. In the future I may be an ally. Now, you must go."
 
His finger pointed to the large ornate door to his right.

 "Your master grows impatient."

Asmodene turned to look at the door. When he looked back at the throne. 

The 'boy' had gone.

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