God's Game Chapter 1: Plan

A winged figure fluttered swiftly between the crumbling ruins of a once proud city. Its dark shadow flooded over the rubble, the leathery wings with hooked claws rose up and down in a steady, continual rhythm. It travelled faster than any human transport could. With the soft sigh of beating wings the young demon landed with a gentle thud, his arms spreading wide to catch himself from the fall. His red ringed eyes glowed duly in the dimming light of the waning blood sun. Chestnut brown hair was spiked to perfection, lightly dusted with red tips of an entirely natural source. Folding in his pitch black wings, he brushed off imaginary dust particles from his raven black jacket that hung over a greying shirt with a faded peace sign imprinted upon it. His loose black trousers rustled slightly as long grass snatched eagerly at the shifting fabric. Dried mud flaked off from the fine lining running across the rims of his black and white converses.


Taking several hesitant steps forwards he raised his head to stare fearfully up at the raised dais that held a large stone chair. Fine carvings were etched across it, depicting epic scenes of battle, heroic victories and clips of beautiful romance. But what was most transfixing of this throne was the shifting carvings, their images blurring and morphing into yet another every few minutes. There was however a being that was so beautiful, so fear striking, that you could do nothing but lock your eyes on the tall figure. He was currently in his preferred form, lounging lazily across his seat, a crystal glass of water held delicately between his long, slender pale fingers. Cold blue eyes gazed monotonously at the oncoming demon as his snow white hair wafted about him, drifting uneasily about the non-existent breeze. It was long, easily long enough for the man, appearing in his early twenties, to sit on. With his pale skin, the combination of a white shirt, its buttons loose half way down the chest, black trousers and smart black shoes suited the man quite well. Behind him lingered the fading sounds of moans, cries of pain, cheers of gratitude and much more, twisting and coiling like the folds of a giant serpent. They mingled with scents of rare, chillingly beautiful flowers, freshly made bread, the metallic stench of blood and a many thousand more. Emitting a low sigh he shifted his legs and sat up, the glass resting still in his clawed hand.


“You have news for me? Bethelimos?” He asked, his voice even colder than the ice that melted so long ago, yet as enticing as the scent of honey dripping sumptuously over the edge of its meagre container. Bethelimos bowed respectively, his head dipping low.
“Yes My God, Sir. Twenty five souls have been sent to the lower earth; ten to the upper earth and a final five have yet to be discovered. We are expecting double tomorrow, perhaps triple if it becomes a bad day.” He paused, a glimmer of nervous fear shimmering behind his eyes. “Also, there have been three tsunamis, two hurricanes and many numerous thunder storms. Humanity’s war is increasing as are the casualties and the –“He broke off as his master sighed and returned his gaze to the water filled glass.


“Is, that all?” The man asked in a bored tone. His voice sent a chill down Bethelimos’ spine making his wings rustled together.
“I…I don’t understand Sir.” He answered in a hushed voice.
“Is that all to report? More ‘tragedies, deaths and destruction’?” The man snapped, his fist clenching tightly around the glass. The Demon flinched, ducking his head and crouching, his hands flying to his face while moaning in a sudden blast of pain. It was to be expected when his master wasn’t pleased. He was just lucky the master hadn’t set him on fire.
“Y-Yes Sir, I’m afraid the humans are just not listening to the warnings, it’s been impossible to send any more messenger’s down, the angels are refusing to do it as are the spirits.” He whispered his report, struggling not to stutter in his fear. The pain had vanished as instantly as it had arrived, sending relief like a blessing coursing though his veins. Once more the man turned his steely gaze onto the horned demon who averted his sight to the ground.
"Then why, Bethelimos, do the angels and spirits not speak to me about this?" He spoke in a dangerously low voice. Bethelimos couldn't answer. He knew what he should say, and the truth of this situation, but it would be suicide for him to tell his master this. After all, no one enjoyed being told that their servants feared them and insulted them behind their back. At the same time though he knew he wouldn't be able to hide the secret, God knew everything, that was the nature of God.


"Well? Answer me!" The man's voice became a snarling order causing the demon to flinch.
"Sir, they are afraid of you. They are afraid that you will be displeased and in turn punish them." He whispered, involuntarily stepping back, prepared to feel pain again. Instead, he heard a cold, humourless laugh. Looking up Bethelimos' eyes widened in surprise at the sight of his master placing the glass on the arm of his throne and chuckling to himself.
"So instead they send a young, weak demon such as yourself to deliver the news so you receive the punishment and they are left alone? How cowardly my servants seem to be. I thought I had trained you all far better than this." He mused to himself, eyes narrowing slightly. Bethelimos didn't respond, clenching his fists and biting his lip to prevent an angry outburst of agreement at the unjustice of the demon's treatment.
"Go now Bethelimos...It seems I have work to do." God waved a lazy hand, moving it to once more pick up the glass and swirl the liquid around until it shimmered a deep red.
"But my Lord, what are we to do about the earthly crisis?" Bethelimos cried out, instantly recoiling and covering his mouth. No punishment came, only a faintly amused gaze from now ghostly green eyes.
"I have a plan little demon, and it will involve you, our newest spirit and of course some assistance from an old friend." Bethelimos still felt confused, this didn't make sense. What would his God want with a low ranking demon, a new spirit and an old friend? He hadn't even known his Lord HAD any friends. Still, knowing he had out stayed his welcome the bat-winged demon outstretched his wings and turned. Taking a few running steps he alighted off the ground and soared high into the air. God watched his servant glide away and smirked.
"Yes, I have a plan....Those pathetic humans will never know what hit them." He chuckled cruelly before leaning back into the stone throne and closing his eyes, the glass tumbling from his grip to roll across the floor, red liquid pooling across the stone slabs and running through the cracks.